The Dark Bird of Heaven's Decree
"Idle fantasies at eighteen years and twelve months."
Before dawn, a row of magpies convened on the dormitory roof—black-and-white, sleek, calling and fluttering. At 6:30 in the morning, their noise was not quite crowing nor quite crying; they called for a while, fell silent, called again, then dispersed.
In the northwest corner of the lawn there is a stone flower bed, octagonal in shape, with a sundial at its center; at that hour it still lay in shadow. Legend has it—legend is an overstatement; “the ancient Greek philosopher Roderick Usher once said”—that this house is alive.
At 7:30, the campus filled suddenly with people, all wearing the same expression.
After the blizzard, a dead bird appeared in the snow by the lake—black feathers flecked with snowflakes. It must have been a magpie.
The dark bird of heaven’s mandate descends, giving birth to Shang.