They came from the north,  their dark wings beating almost in rythym with the others. Only a few came at first as to not immediately alarm him. But soon, the sky was black with them.
    He strained against his wooden cross, but despite its years, it was sturdy and planted firmly in the middle of the cornfield. he might have screamed, but his mouth was stuffed with straw. As their wings beat off his hat, he could only turn his head the other way. But no matter which way he turned, they were there. there unfeeling caws echoing and silencing all other noise and their dark, cold eyes reflected an empty, indigo vengaence that scared the hell out of him.
    They started clawing at his face with their talons and then started working for the rest of his body. Pieces of him began to join the straw scattered beneath his dangling feet. Small pieces at first-- the hankerchief from his shirt pocket, a strip from his cheek, a button, strands of hair, but it soon became obvious that their ultimate goal was his total destruction..
    One perched atop his head and appeared to be giving orders. Another locked his claws on his collars and started working on his right eye. then the rest tore off his clothes to get to the rest of his body. Beaks tore at his stomach,  claws raked at his shoulder, and pieces of flesh were being ripped off his legs. His eye came out, bounced off his chin and joined the debris at the base of the cross.
    Then they tor him open. his insides spilled on the ground and the black assasins danced their victory dance and victory cries. their message was clear now: You are nothing. We have taken you apart and shown you who owns this field.. their celbration continued until the heat of the mid afternoon sun drove them to the cool oak trees bordering the corn field. The sun beat down on his remains and at last, all was quiet--
    --until his big sister came out to check and see if he had learned his lesson about tattling on her.