History of Sorts

The crow rests for a while. He is tired. He witnesses something strange. It is daytime, but yet, it is getting dark.

Not too long ago, he would have been upset by this, but he has seen a lot more that recently he can’t explain.

Following a train during one of his flights, hoping to find perhaps some scraps of food thrown out of the windows by the passengers.

This train is different. It usually carries cattle, but not today.

Today, the train carries women, men, babies, and old-age pensioners. Where is it going? The crow decides to follow it.

In the distance, he can see some buildings. He thinks that is where the train is going. He is right. The train stops, and the people are taken out. Some are shot because they are too slow to get out. He sees so much fear but also the hate from those in uniforms.

The crow sees other buildings—some have chimneys.

He sees a group of passengers from the trains. He follows, going towards a building with a chimney.

He flies back to where the train stopped to see where the other people went. He can’t see them near the train. Where did they go? He decides to fly around a bit. He sees some of the other passengers. They are at some sort of camp. The crow thinks maybe they are on a holiday, but not a nice one.

He flies to another building with a chimney. He sees ashes coming out of the top—so many ashes that they eclipse the light.

There is a silence. It is a scary and eerie silence. The crow’s instinct tells him not to stay. This is not a place for holidays—this is a place of death.

The crow now looks at the darkness that surrounds him again. He realizes that this is only temporary and partial darkness—an eclipse of a part of the sun. He also knows that at the place where the train stopped, no amount of sunlight would help those people. They were surrounded by permanent darkness.