The Ravens lived at the end of the narrow street.
They weren’t much liked by the neighbors, with their thick black feathers and dark shifty eyes.
Donny was in 4th grade, he was the youngest of the family – an unkindness it was called. He didn’t like being called an unkindness much… He thought his family was perfectly kind, thank you for very much. His mom and dad volunteered at the local bird feeder and his aunt directed the youth theater program. But everywhere the family went, they were met with overt glances from nervous parents shuffling their children briskly away.
The Ravens were a kind unkindness. The liked each other, and they liked others. But others didn’t like them. Others were afraid of the picture of the Ravens they’d always seen in their heads and in the papers and on the televisions. Dark and ominous and a signal for bad news and crummy luck.
But if the neighbors went down to the end of the narrow street and knocked on the large wooden front door, they’d find a lovely family only too excited to invite them in for a cup of tea and a crumpet.
The Ravens didn’t get much company.