A Cloud of Omens
Fireflies stirred around the base of the world tree as Morgan climbed down from the branches and mounted her bone-white horse. The fading glow of the day’s sun drifted below the horizon and the evening chorus of crickets filled her ears with a peaceful serenade, guiding her undead steed out of the dark forest and into the clearing. The horse snorted his disapproval and stamped his cloven hoof on the ground in protest, but a tap on his reigns urged him forward. Her companion loathed the abandoned drive-in and the faint scent of humans that had long ago frequented this place. Dried oil stains in the grass and remnants of stale popcorn couldn’t mask the rancid smell of human life that still permeated the air. The scent of old fear and human pheromones lingered long after the race had abandoned this plot of decaying land. Morgan ignored it. It was time to gather her darlings and as always, there was work to be done.
“Take these broken wings and learn to fly,” she hummed under her breath, remembering the Beatles’ tune she favored most. It was one of the few things these pathetic humans had created. Besides, it was a much better tune than Sing a Song of Six Pence. “All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.”
She maneuvered her steed beyond the broken down sign that read- Black Oak Drive-In. It was peculiar how humans felt the need to label things. Take her, for instance. She had been known by many names throughout the centuries. Some had called her Rhiannon or Rīgantōna, The Great Divine Queen with her birds that could wake the dead and lull the living to sleep. The Hopi had called her Sussistanako, or Spider Grandmother, who sent out her darlings as directional guardians, but associated them with the underworld. Some had even called her Black Annis, though she despised that title. She preferred her Celtic name; Mororiganis, the Nightmare Queen. It seemed fitting.
Weaving between rows upon rows of rusted, silent speakers, she made her way to the old projection booth and dismounted. She pulled an enchanted apple from her cloak and fed the beast, affectionately scratching below his chin with her curved, iron claws. The horse whinnied in approval and she stepped into the booth and closed the door, humming as she went.
She had always used lakes and streams in the past for this particular job, but the humans' reckless pollution had soiled the waterways and her visions were often muddled. Besides, her darlings were easily distracted and by using this forgotten theatre, she could broadcast a much wider viewing. It was another one of their creations she could admire, even if they no longer did.
Just before dusk, the messengers trickled in, cawing at one another and ruffling their feathers. Watching them line across the top of the busted screen and along the telephone lines, she felt a tinge of sadness as she always did before her broadcast. Most would carry their messages to the undeserving, their warnings completely ignored. Others would venture within human homes just to get their attention and even then they would simply be shooed away. Many would even sacrifice their lives to forewarn the ungrateful of their impending doom, smashing into glass walls and crushing their majestic skulls. Most of it would be in vain, but it was work that had to be done, nonetheless.
Morgan carefully removed her crystal eye, mounting it to the projector. Light pulsed through it and reflected onto the empty screen. A hush fell over the viewers as they received their orders and made special note of the omens specifically assigned to each one. Flashes of horror splashed across the forsaken canvas. Humans died in agonizing pain. Corpses and carnage. Disease and disorder. Murder and mayhem. It was all there, the future broadcast across the drive-in’s screen like a kaleidoscope of death, no two tragedies alike. As each blackbird received their omen, the harbingers of sorrow took flight to forewarn the ungrateful. Morgan sighed with a ragged breath as the last one faded into the night air.
“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,” she hummed the melancholy tune. She mounted her horse and returned to the world tree where more visions would plague her sleep. “Take these sunken eyes and learn to see.”