The Cloud Crows
of 
Berlin 

​

The city of Berlin never slept. Olli Bankes, however, wished he could sleep forever. Tired and groggy, he hauled a pillow over his head. The echoes of a restless night still clung to him — crows making a horrendous racket above his apartment, their cries cutting through the dark. Now, there was a loud, insistent rapping sound invading his fogged brain. He rolled over with a groan and forced his eyes open. A sharp beak was tapping on the windowpane. That crazy crow! Surely, after last night’s fiasco, it doesn’t deserve any food, he thought — but then he relented. Getting slowly out of bed and grabbing a bag of shelled walnuts from his desk, he opened the window.

       The hooded crow shuffled along the grimy sill. Even though it was used to seeing the sleepy-looking teenager—Olli had been feeding it for months—the bird seemed to be visibly shaking.

       That’s weird, thought Olli as he sprinkled the food on the wooden window frame.

       “What were you up to last night?” he asked gently, seeing the bird’s distress and forgetting his anger of a few moments before. The crow said nothing.

       His phone on the desk suddenly buzzed, snapping his attention to the screen—only then did he notice the time.

       “Damn I’m late,” he said pushing the window shut and rushing down the hall to the bathroom.

       Staring in the mirror while brushing his teeth, he lifted his other hand and pushed back the shock of red hair that he had inherited from his German mother. She would barely recognise me now, he pondered, studying the young man staring back at him. His cheekbones had become more sharply cut and his jaw a little squarer. Olli’s mum had passed away when he was six, but he still spoke a cool mishmash of German and English at home with his British dad that they called “Deutschlish”. He also had an unusual blond streak at the front, just to the right of his centre parting. “It’s like you’ve dipped your hair in the honey pot,” said Nana Bankes in England, which always made Olli want to crawl under the table. He preferred it when his dad said it made him look like a pop star.

       He spat out the toothpaste and brought his face right up to the mirror, his narrow nose almost touching the glass, his breath smoking it. The thing that truly completed his strange looks were his eyes. When he was born they were two different colours: one of Olli’s irises was brown and the other was a disquieting blue. Olli had read all about this rare phenomenon – Heterochromia Iridum – and was quite the expert.

     

        It was barely daylight when he hurried across the schoolyard towards the main entrance of the dirty redbrick school. The late autumn days were getting colder in Berlin and there was now a definite chill. A pale mist snaked around the buildings and the clouds on the horizon were ragged with the dull crimson of dawn. He spotted Theo and Sophie, his best mates. They were standing in their usual spot in a quieter corner of the yard to avoid the hangout of Marcus Schleimfeld, a notorious bully who often picked on Olli. The icy wind had whipped up some leaflets and flung them into the corner, sticking them to a chain-linked fence where they fluttered like faded bunting. School kids had only just started filing into the main building and Schleimfeld and his cronies were standing like security at the entrance harassing them as they tried to get to their classes.

       Theo was wearing a new black winter jacket with the collar turned up. He was shorter and stockier than Olli with a shallow cleft chin and handsome dimples when he smiled. His raven black hair had a gentle wave that often fell across his pale blue eyes and his thick eyelashes. As Olli approached he met Theo’s steady gaze and held it. There was something unnerving about it like he was seeing Theo for the first time. Embarrassed he flicked his attention away to Sophie. She was tall and wiry with long slender wrists but had a slightly awkward way of standing, like a young foal that was just learning to walk. Her brown almond shaped eyes curved attractively upwards but were hidden partly with the thin gold-framed glasses that she wore. Today she was wearing long socks and a short red tartan skirt to match.  

       “Hey Olli, how are you?” asked Theo. “You look awful.” Olli shot him a dark look.

       “Alright I suppose – I overslept and didn’t even get a chance to have breakfast. I see pig brain and the piglets got here early,” said Olli nodding towards Schleimfeld.

       “Careful, he might hear,” whispered Sophie.

       Theo dropped down and got something out of his bag.

       “Want one of these?” he asked offering Olli a sandwich.

       “Are you sure? That’s your lunch isn’t it?”

       “Come on, you know my mum, she gives me enough food to feed an army.”

       “Cheers thanks,” said Olli. “She definitely makes the best!” Olli was feeling ravenous. He was not surprised really, he always felt hungry, ever since that growth spurt before his fifteenth birthday. He had just taken the sandwich out of Theo’s hand when with a brutal shove Marcus Schleimfeld barged past him, knocking the sandwich to the ground. They all stared at the sandwich lying on the gritty asphalt. Time appeared to stand still.

       “Lost your mummy’s sandwich have you… lost your mummy?” sang Schleimfeld, in a whiny voice. His small eyes rolled upwards and he rocked his large head from side to side while he said this. This was too much for Olli. Something suddenly just snapped in his head, like the firing of an arrow from a taut bowstring.

        “Du Arschloch!” he shouted, shoving Schleimfeld backwards with both hands on his shoulders. Olli was amazed to find himself eyeballing Schleimfeld, he was easily as tall as him now. Schleimfeld had been terrorising the kids at the school for years, particularly Olli, and he saw Theo and Sophie both staring in disbelief as the large, cumbersome bully toppled backwards. This was not the quiet Olli they knew. They both took a step back in amazement. There was clear shock on Schleimfeld’s face too. But he quickly recovered. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Walking over to Olli, he grabbed his face in his meaty hand.

       “Look at me, look at me you little shit.” Olli struggled but couldn’t help but look into Schleimfeld’s lifeless eyes.

       “Been dyeing your hair again have we?” he taunted Olli. “I bet that was your stupid mother’s idea. But she’s gone isn’t she!” He pushed Olli backwards with his hand.  Olli stumbled but then stood firm, starring at him, his arms straight at his sides and his fists clenched. What the hell… he thought, I’m over this. He could feel his emotions tipping over a precipice and hurtling down at full throttle like a rocket.  He had lost his mother but still really didn’t know what had happened to her and his dad avoided answering any questions about it. His father just didn’t say much, preferring to be shut away in his study, poring over his translations from the university.

       “NO ONE says anything about my Mum!” he snapped, as rage welled up inside him. It was a blind fury, like a white-hot molten inferno that he had never experienced before. Any fear that had been there only a few seconds before just vanished. Olli had the strangest visceral feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. It was powerful and uncanny and possessed a will of its own, uncontrollable and ancient. What’s happening to me he thought? His mind filled with a storm of firing synapses and a white light blanked everything out, blinding him momentarily. A second later, he came round, shaking his head, his mind reeling and still seeing a few white spots floating in front of his eyes.

       Suddenly there were crows everywhere, mobbing and pecking at Marcus Schleimfeld. A small trickle of blood was flowing down his cheek and he ran across the yard his arms flailing about. It would have looked quite comical if the attack hadn’t been so vicious. The birds flew at him relentlessly. Then, just as quickly, they were gone.

       “What happened?” asked Olli shaking. Nothing made sense to him. “I blanked out just then. Where did those crows come from?” His friends were just staring at him.

       “Something really odd,” said Theo carefully, “one minute you were pushing Schleimfeld and the next there was a kind of shift in the light … it went blue and bright. Like the daylight actually changed and it was more intense. Then the crows appeared and started pecking at him. It was weird!” Olli looked at Sophie and she still had her hand over her mouth. Her bright eyes were wide and fixed on him. “…But it was brilliant!!” added Theo and they all looked at each other and burst out laughing.

       Then Sophie frowned. “All the same, what was that?”

        “I don’t know,” said Olli truly perplexed. “…it was weird.”

 

                                                                                                                       ***

 

       In Frau Meyer’s physics lesson, Olli was sitting and staring at his phone, still puzzling over that morning’s events. His dad had sparked Olli’s imagination from an early age filling it with ideas about the cosmos and science… which was why it was so unusual on this freezing November afternoon, for Olli to be staring at his phone instead of putting his hand up every few seconds when his Physics teacher, Frau Meyer, asked a question.

       Something had happened with the crows that had been so strange and unnatural. Maybe it’s me? Maybe I’m not normal? Could that be the reason? The gravity of the situation with Schleimfeld was just beginning to sink in. Olli’s mind just would not rest. He absentmindedly twisted his golden streak of hair around his finger, his mind flashing back to the schoolyard.

       The crow attack was travelling like a contagion through the kids’ phone messages and flashing up on their social media. It was everywhere and someone had even managed to catch part of it on video. Olli scrolled through his phone and groaned. There were comments like, Scare Crow Bankes and Weirdo Bankes and the Crazy Crows. Most people already thought Olli Bankes pretty weird. “Most” meaning most people at the international school that is. It’s not because he could speak two languages, everyone could speak at least two languages, some even three. He still thought most of them were pretty ignorant though. It was probably because of the music he liked – some of it old stuff that his dad liked from the seventies and eighties – and maybe his hair and his black clothes too. But now there was a whole new reason for them to think he was weird.

       Tap… Tap… TAP.

        Olli’s eyes came into focus and he saw a crow. Surely not again he thought. It was sitting on the wide windowsill of the musty classroom and fixing him with its gleaming eye. It moved in a coquettish fashion, strutting up and down like a lord and cocking its head in quick jagged movements. It ruffled its plumage and puffed itself up, making itself look bigger. The black feathers of its hood and wings glimmered with blue and turquoise iridescence. It was a hooded crow, with a dove grey body, as if it was wearing a warm velvet jacket.

        That bird looks familiar, he thought, but surely, it couldn’t be…?

        Tap… tap… TAP… once again on the glass.

        Did my anger make those crows attack? Could it be me? Or perhaps, thought Olli, it was just that the crows had seen the sandwich hit the floor. After all, they were everywhere in this city – you couldn’t get away from them. In fact, he had sometimes seen them mob the younger kids in the schoolyard for their lunch.

       “Olli... Olli Bankes? Perhaps you would like to give me the answer?”

        But Olli could only hear Frau Meyer’s voice faintly as his mind swam through that morning’s extraordinary attack. He wasn’t focusing on the lesson at all. English or German, the words just didn’t register.

       “Mr OLIVER Bankes”, will you please answer the question?” demanded Frau Meyer.

       As everyone turned to stare at Olli, the crow that had been tapping at the windowpane flew off. Olli saw some tail feathers sticking out at odd angles and instantly recognized the bird. It was Scruff – the rather dishevelled crow he had been feeding at home for months, the one he had fed that very morning. But what the hell was it doing here? How did it know where he was?

       “I was just asking you to tell me which of Newton’s Laws do we need to explain the particular force being applied to the moving trolley and its acceleration?” persisted Frau Meyer.

       Just as Olli was opening his mouth to reply – he really did know the answer – there was a knock at the door and the headmaster, Dr Friedrichsohn, poked his head into the room. He nodded at Frau Meyer, his grey beard filling the gap in the door.

        “I would like to see Oliver Bankes in my office now please.”

        The class began to erupt into chatter. “Enough,” shouted Frau Meyer, clearly exasperated. His face burning, Olli got up and slowly crossed the classroom.

       Olli followed Dr Friedrichsohn down the long, drab corridors with the high ceilings. He glared at the terrible Ocean Project as they passed. Frau Neudecker had organised Olli’s art class to try and cheer up the corridors, but the crappy blue paper waves were beginning to look faded and sad; the refuse plastic cups and bottles representing the pollution of the oceans, forlorn. On the crests some sprayers had added slogans in white about global warming. His heart hadn’t been in the project from the start. He preferred to draw and paint, not stick plastic cups on cardboard like some kindergarten.

       Dr Friedrichsohn was a tall man with long strides but Olli was just as tall now and could easily match his pace. He didn’t say anything to Olli. Finally, he opened the door to his study and ushered Olli in. Sitting opposite the desk was a sullen-looking Marcus Schleimfeld and two red-faced parents with the same squashed up nose and dead eyes that Marcus possessed. They stared menacingly at Olli when he entered. Olli felt his skin prickle.

       Dr Friedrichsohn sat down at his desk, sighed and raised his hands in a point with the fingertips touching. He surveyed them all over his glasses.

       “I would like to make this brief,” he said in German. He didn’t offer Olli a seat, so he hovered self-consciously by the door. He felt awkward and angrier than ever. A fresh scar on Schleimfeld’s face had a line of butterfly strips. Addressing Olli directly, the Headmaster continued in his gentle, deep voice. “Marcus Schleimfeld’s parents have come to me saying that you attacked their son in the schoolyard today causing a serious injury. Luckily no stitches are needed, and the doctors don’t think it will scar.”

       “Yes that’s right, yes, it’s terrible.”

       “That awful boy…,” said the parents, nodding and talking over each other.

       Olli glared at them. “But sir...”

       Friedrichsohn raised his hand before Olli could continue.

        “This is a very serious matter Bankes and I would like to see you apologise now to Marcus and his parents.”

       But it has nothing to do with me! thought Olli, feeling his stomach turn with the injustice of it all. What about the crows?

       “But sir...” Olli began again. Dr Friedrichsohn shot him a fiery look and Olli shut his mouth. Then he thought he’d try one more time. “Sir, there were crows, hundreds of crows who attacked Marcus, not me, I …”

        “This is your last chance, I am not asking for explanations. So please apologise.”

Olli now burning with indignation turned towards the Schleimfelds. “I’m very sorry for the hurt and pain I’ve caused Marcus and I hope he’s feeling better soon,” he said. Olli felt furious but at least he had done what his father would expect of him – being polite and rising above the situation.

         Olli couldn’t help but notice the smirk that flickered across Marcus Schleimfeld’s face. I really do hate you now, he thought: Schleim by name and slime by nature.

        “Also,” continued Dr Friedrichsohn, “due to the gravity of this act I will have to suspend you for two weeks.”

        Olli’s felt a shot of anger. He couldn’t believe it. He was seething, but tried not to let Schleimfeld see how upset he was.

        “I hope you find Bankes’s apology satisfactory and you won’t be taking any further action,” said the Headmaster, addressing the parents. The Schleimfelds all stood up and the parents, looking smug, shook the doctor’s hand.

        “Good, that will be all. Thank you for coming in and bringing this to my attention.”

        Olli turned to go, but the Headmaster added, “Can you please stay behind for a minute Bankes?”

        The door shut behind the Schleimfelds. Olli could hear laughter as they walked off down the corridor. He had not been in trouble much at school before – he had always kept his head down and tried not to stand out any more than he already did.

        “I will have to give you a letter to take to your father. We all know, I think, what Schleimfeld is capable of and we are going to keep an even closer eye on him. But next time please do not take justice into your own hands.” His lips pursed as he looked gravely at Olli over his spectacles. “I will explain everything to your father.”

       “No, I won’t sir. I’ll report it next time. Thank you sir,” he said realising that the matter was now closed. There’s no point in mentioning the crows he thought, he’d never believe me anyway.

       “Yes, that will be all,” said Dr Friedrichsohn and Olli turned on his heels leaving the room with his stomach still churning.

       In the meantime, lessons had ended for the day and kids were beginning to fill the corridors with an excited clamour. Olli went back to the classroom to collect his bag, which was still lying on the desk. No one else was there and there was no sign of the crow at the window. Had he just dreamt all that he wondered?

 

                                                                                                                      ***

 

        At the school gate Theo and Sophie grabbed him.

       “So what happened, come on tell us?” asked Sophie excitedly, shaking his shoulders. Her hair was quivering and the tartan scrunchies holding it up were distracting Olli. It always surprised Olli that she was almost as tall as him and she was now staring at him so intently he felt embarrassed. He took a step back.

       “Yes, come on, did you get expelled?” teased Theo.

       “Not far off it,” replied Olli.

       “WHAAAT?” clamoured Sophie and Theo in unison.

       When Olli explained about the suspension, they couldn’t believe their ears. Olli was usually so mild mannered it didn’t fit at all.

       “That’s such a joke. But you’re going to be the coolest one at school now. Everyone will think so,” said Theo.

       “This is already all over social media…” said Sophie frowning. Olli remembered the nasty posts he’d already seen.

       “Yeah really cool,” he said sarcastically and gave Theo a cold stare. He knew Theo was only trying to make him feel better but he couldn’t help himself.

       “But did anyone mention the crows?” asked Sophie.

       “No they didn’t. Friedrichsohn wouldn’t even let me try to explain.”

       “Weird!” was all Theo seemed to be able to manage.

       The school was in the centre of the city in Mitte, an old quarter of tenements that had been considered a slum during the cold war, but was now renovated and well-to-do. The friends lived in opposite directions, so Olli waved goodbye to Theo and Sophie, who were still chatting about the crows as they left. They hadn’t mentioned the tapping crow in the physics lesson – did they even see him at the window? Perhaps I did imagine that after all, thought Olli, as he kicked up the amber leaves on the street. What a weird day.

​

        When Olli got home he threw himself on his bed and flipped open his laptop. He didn’t bother turning on the light. The blue glow of the screen filled the room and he typed in hooded crows berlin. Some stuff came up about the differences between hooded crows (Corvus cornix) and black carrion crows, which are completely black. He found some videos of wild hooded crows solving a wooden puzzle box; it was amazing how they finally got the food out after clearly working out the system of drawers. He was surprised to learn that hooded crows never ventured west of the river Elbe but their territory stretched deep into Russia and Asia, even reaching the tundra wastes of Siberia. But they were also in Ireland, apparently, where they are called caróg liath or grey crow. In German they were “mist” or “fog crows" – Nebelkrähe, he said to himself.

        He read on getting more and more fascinated and falling into a free-fall Internet search. He typed in crow attacks. A few random videos of attacks by single crows in Asia came up. But nothing compared to the mass of crows that had come down on Schleimfeld, nor the ferocity with which they had attacked him. It just doesn’t make sense he thought, and an uneasy feeling began to creep up from his stomach. Something felt disjointed, something felt wrong. Very wrong.