“When the door opened, I thought you were going to die,” Barb said, her eyes wide and serious.

“She’s watching us,” Mark said.

We looked at the house, a good distance away now that we were in the car, and saw he was right. The woman was standing in the doorway, not much more than a silhouette from where we sat, but definitely watching.

“She wants to make sure we’re leaving, asshole, let’s go,” Dennis said irritably. He was embarrassed, I could tell. I rubbed my palm over his back in soothing little circles.

“We didn’t touch the door,” Mark complained. He was trying to turn the car around with what little room he had on the stone bridge. “We didn’t get a picture, you left the camera here.”

“Who gives a shit?” Barb demanded. She regarded him for a moment with obvious distaste before folding her arms and looking out the window. “Forget the movie. Just take me home.”

“If you’re going to be a bitch about it—“

“Just take her home, Mark,” Dennis snapped.

“Guys,” I begged, my fit of laughter finally subsiding, “please, I have a headache, let’s just—“

Then we heard it, a high warbling sound piercing through our argument. It sounded like a mix between a cat’s yowl and a child crying ‘ow!’ – plaintive, keening, otherworldly.

We sat in stunned silence.

“What the fuck was—“ Mark began, and we heard it again.

“Go, Mark,” Barbara whispered after the last cry had echoed away.

He turned to look at Dennis, eyes wild.

“I told you there was something out here, man,” he said excitedly. “Look, she went inside, let’s just go back and see what it is—“

“Why the fuck would I want to see what it is?” Dennis demanded, incredulous.

“Okay, screw you then, I’ll go do it.” Mark opened his car door and hopped out. Barb made a strangled little sound of protest but didn’t move. “Take the picture, Barb!”

“It’s too dark,” she said miserably.

The howl came again. It was nothing I’d ever heard before – terrible and yet somehow melodic, like the way the sirens must’ve sounded to Greek sailors.

“Dennis,” I said, helpless.

“I know, I know…” He craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Mark through the rear window as he walked back towards the white house.

“That stupid shit,” Barb whimpered.

The three of us waited, Mark’s car idling beneath us as we held our breath.

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard Mark scream.

Dennis was out of the car in a flash, running towards the sound of his friend’s cry for help. Barb started weeping.

“He’s dead, the Bubbleheads got him, he’s dead,” she managed through her sobs.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” I said, trying to see where they both were. Dennis was a vague blurry form in the quickly darkening dusk; Mark was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly – unexplainably – I heard Mark laughing.

Barb and I looked at each other, made equals in our confusion. His laughing went on and on and for a manic moment I thought he’d gone mad but then I heard him yell:

“It’s a stupid bird! A dumb fucking bird!”

I got out of the car, moving quickly towards where I saw them hunched over, about 15 feet away from the house.

“What’s going on?” I whispered angrily.

“Mark kicked a bird,” Dennis said.

As I got closer I saw it, the thing sprawled out on the ground near Mark’s feet. It looked like a turkey until I saw that it wasn’t a turkey, not at all, it was something far grander than that – something shimmering with iridescent colors and thick, luxurious feathers.