You were on stage, illuminated by a dim blue light. You were on your tiptoes, Your graceful movements, your dress made of swan feathers. Your face was tense, one mistake and your career would be over but not the way you expected.

You moved your foot slowly and by putting it the wrong way you twisted it and fell to the ground. Your hair slowly came down, the cellos also accompanied your movement, making the suspense terribly distressing.

A viewfinder was on your white face, someone was trying to get you out of the way. Before the inevitable could happen, the killer was killed silently by the presence of a crow, the man...He shot himself with his own weapon.

After the performance, Sunday waited for you backstage and looked at you with a kind smile.

“My dear, your performance was terrible, I expected much more from you.”

Sunday had seen everything, he had his eyes everywhere in that silent room. A raven, an insatiable demon in the form of an angel, sought nothing more than to obtain something. Your soul, and he would have done anything to have you.

After all, you are the sparrow and he is the crow.