The Clutter Box Read online

  Chapter 11

  Bruce read Dr Thorn’s entry for that short story competition in the Halloween edition of the company’s newsletter. Bruce wasn’t at the company back then, but later Dr Thorn had shown him a copy, and later still, I would find out about it from him.

  She wrote about a woman who lost her eye to a crow. She had recently retired and had taken to feeding the ducks in the park, across the road from her house. It was during her daily walk through the park, one morning, when a crow swooped down and snatched her eye, straight out of her head and flew off into the tree with it.

  Shortly after, she was fitted with a new glass eye. It didn’t move or see, but it looked the part. Heading home she cut through the park once more. She couldn’t believe her bad luck. That same crow swooped down and snatched her glass eye - flying off with it into the trees.

  After that she gave up on wearing a glass eye and settled for wearing a patch. When the crow took her patch, not even in the park but just outside her own house, she gave up altogether.

  She spent the next day walking around with an exposed hole in her head. Her husband thought it was ugly and wanted her to cover it, but it all seemed like too much trouble.

  The day after that, whilst walking down the road, she spotted the crow circling above.

  “Oh, no, not again. You’re not taking my other eye.”

  She covered her eye with both hands and waited, covered in darkness, until she found herself struck hard on the face. Removing her hands she couldn’t believe the crows audacity. It had only gone and dived into her empty eyehole, and it seemed to have taken up residence there.

  She rushed back to her house and to a mirror, trying to grasp at its beak. Every time she reached for it, it ducked further back into her head. She tried using a pencil to poke it out. No use, even when she managed to pop it out, it would just circle the room and fly back into her head. Eventually, she felt herself give up. The crow would come and go and there was little she could do about it.

  Her husband was concerned, but he too had little control over the matter. Once he brought her some rope and suggested she tie it tight over the hole, so the crow couldn't get back in. She shook her head and sank into her chair, defeated. Against such a determined crow, if she got in its way, she’d risk losing the other eye.

  She made a curious sight in town, walking down the street with a crow’s head peering out of her eye socket. She learned to live with it. It didn’t seem to make much of a mess in there. She started to leave her window open at night, so the crow could come and go, unrestricted. She got to the point where she could comfortably sleep through its comings and goings.

  One day she was sitting in the park, peering out over the duck pond, when her crow kicked up a fuss. It was fluttering about inside her head in a panic. She was so concerned with the sudden commotion that she never noticed the approaching snake. It darted into her eyehole and swallowed the crow whole.

  At this point the woman had grown quite fond of her feathered friend and found the experience quite disturbing. Even more disturbingly, the snake had decided to curl up inside her head. She’d learned over time to trust the crow not to harm any vital organs but the snake wasn't housebroken. She tried pulling it out with the pencil - no use. She went to the vet, to see what he could do. The vet got his finger bitten for poking too close and shooed her away. At this point, her husband put his foot down .

  “No, you’re not going around with a snake in your head.”

  He tried coaxing it out with some mice. The snake would dart out and eat the mice, but always recoiled back inside her head.

  “What eats snakes?” He asked, pulling a determined face.

  “Eagles, but I don’t want an eagle in my head.”

  “Don’t be silly. An eagle wouldn’t fit in there.”

  The vet was able to put them in contact with a eagle handler and they all agreed to meet in the park.

  “You stand over there,” said the eagle handler, “and I’ll release my eagle. He’ll fly over and snatch the snake right out of your head.”

  She obeyed.

  She stood in the middle of the field and waited as the eagle had its blindfold removed. After a second it was off, soaring through the air. The woman tensed her body as the beast darted closer. Then she was knocked back to the ground. After a moment, fluttering on her face, the eagle flew off into the air - the snake in its clutches.

  “It worked,” cried her husband. All seemed well.

  They went home that day, to plan a pet free life. Days went by without incident. Then weeks. She even got herself a new glass eye.

  One night, when relaxing in bed, she noticed a trickle of blood run down the side of her nose. What’s this, she thought, dabbing it.

  Moments later there was an almighty crack. Her husband woke up and screamed. She rushed to the mirror to see what happened. She gasped as she gazed upon her head.

  “That damn eagle,” she screamed, “It must have laid an egg!”

  The top of her head had cracked open and a large eagle chick was peering out of the top.

  Dr Thorn didn’t win the short story competition. Her story was sillier than I expected, but perhaps more imaginative. How little I knew her.