As usual, he sunk into the cushiony couch after a long day of work at the pet store. Today had been a particularly challenging day. One of the puppies had escaped its cage and attacked a parrot, and the man had been left with a mess of feathers and fur to clean up. Thanks to the idiotic mutt, the pet store was a mess: cages overturned, food spilled out of its bag, feathers everywhere. The incident had been particularly frustrating because the parrot’s wing had been wounded and the man had to bandage it, wasting the precious time that he could have used to play Candy Crush. He was relieved at 5:00 when his long day was over and he could lock up the pet store to go home. After stopping at the drive-thru to grab some dinner, he returned to his large, always empty home. Now, sitting in the living room, the man’s large, heavy body created a welt in the cushion as he settled down and chose a film to watch. He decided to see “The Birds,” by Alfred Hitchcock. His chubby fingers reached into the paper bag to pull out a large hamburger and fries.This was his ritual every night, but though he did not know it, tonight was different. Tonight was the last time he would follow his normal routine.

The theme song of the movie played in the background while all his thoughts were washed away with the vivid images being played on the screen. The clock on the wall ticked its normal tick; the cat meowed its normal meow; the wind chimes chimed their normal tune. The night was dark and silent, especially with only him in the house. Whispers of spirits filled the air. They echoed across the room, mimicking the howl of a rabid dog. Wind howled through the trees. The curtains fluttered in the breeze. Yet the real danger was still unseen, camouflaging their black bodies in the dark night outside his house. Warnings were given from the wind and trees. Lock all your doors and windows to keep them out. However, the dire warnings were disregarded, unnoticed by the man.
They accumulated in massive groups; on the top of buildings, outside the school, in the paved streets, around his house; waiting for the right time; planning their revenge; furious that he had locked up their ancestors in cages where they did not belong; enraged with the way their kind had been treated by him; resentful of they way he had deprived the birds of freedom.  They seemed as if they were planning their attack, waiting for the moment when he would be surprised most. The truth was, they had been studying him for weeks, watching him constantly, learning his repetitive schedule so that they would anticipate his every move and be successful in their attack.

They had seen him leave his house every morning, drive to the pet store, come back home, watch a movie. Everyday his ritual seemed the same. Being a notoriously clever species, they had been capable of planning this attack. When the animals that were locked up in their cages had sent out a cry for help and freedom, they had been the first to respond, wanting to put a stop to the suffering of the poor caged animals. They couldn’t bear the thought that for generations their beloved relatives had been locked up and restrained by this man.
A cold air blew across the room. Perhaps it was a warning from the gods or the spirits, attempting to change his fate, but the cautionary breeze failed to notify the oblivious man of the danger  that was coming. Though the cat, sensing the upcoming danger by the change in the wind, meowed more urgently, and the wind chimes changed their tune, he did not exit the depths of his oblivious state. He was too involved in watching his film to notice.
As the night dragged on, the danger grew greater. It was a wave in the ocean, building up higher and higher, preparing to crash down upon him. They waited until their time of attack was guaranteed success. With every second that passed, the time for assault was nearing closer. They assembled their small black bodies in a line, cawing to each other and sharpening their beaks in preparation. Even when he heard their calls in the black night, he did not realize what was to come next.

He sunk deeper into the corner of the couch and remained in his undisturbed state. The clock ticked closer and closer to the deadline. The cat abandoned his attempt at warning and fell asleep. The wind chimes hung noiselessly. It was a silent night.

They waited restlessly outside his house, perched upon the roof, under the porch, beside the rocking chair that creaked when the wind blew. Then, the clock struck twelve.

Their leader let out one final caw. Perhaps a final disregarded warning. They rose from their places, spread their wings, and ascended into the dark night sky. Their leader guided the murder into the house through the window, across the kitchen, down the hallway, into the room where a man slumped into the couch watching a movie. He saw them, but it was too late. They angrily hurdled their beaks and black bodies towards him, backing him into a corner.

He was forced into the depths of his basement, into a pit of darkness.
They slammed their bodies against the door, closing and locking it.
They cornered him in a cage.
He was deprived of his freedom.