the NES (where am i going with this? - no clue)

as mansfield droned on and she tuned out something happenned. birds, hidous shiny black-feathered birds multiplied in number and perched silently on the roof of the science building. they hung from the edge huddled tightly, wing against wing, their beaks (smirking beaks) poised disdainfully down. at them. at first she looked away so that she could look back and not find them there. a figment of imagination that is insanely out of control. her eyes crept back to the window climbed the edge of the metal staircase tripped on the roof and. there. they are still there. she stirred her head and felt an ominous reversal. of roles of life of things as we knew them. death is not the enemy. the enemy is the thing inside us that lets us think we have control that we control creatures land time life and then one day the pretense is snatched away. and we kick and we howl and we scream at the sudden lack of blanketed warmth when we lay there without the cover naked, icy cold.