The Crow & The Broken Mirror

One gloomy afternoon, Matilda the crow flew above the city, as crows do. A dumpster here, a manhole there, people out and about everywhere. “Huh, nothing new.” She rolled her eyes. “No jewels, no tools. No shiny things, just fools.”

Then… a glint.

Intrigued, Matilda swooped down to an old, crumbly rooftop. There lay a large, ornate mirror, cracked and weathered. Its jagged glass reflected her again and again.

“Oh, my!” She grinned. “Hello, my people. ‘Tis me, Matilda.” She bowed, and the reflections bowed, too. She giggled, pride swelling. Never had she seen a mirror before, so she believed this silent crowd was real.

Matilda flitted left, then right, marveling at their obedience. “From this day onward,” she declared, “I shall be your leader! We will be one flock!” She spread her wings, and the reflections followed suit.

She thought of her first decree. Shiny things, of course. “Hear, ye! Gather jewels, coins, rings! Silver and gold, copper if you must, diamonds most of all! Now, go, my flock!”

Silence.

She commanded again. And again. But still, they did not move.

Day after day, Matilda returned, waiting for them to obey, until a tiny sparrow perched on the mirror’s frame. “What are you doing?”

Matilda sighed. “My flock won’t fly or listen to me.”

The sparrow chuckled. “That’s because your flock is just a reflection. It moves because you do.”

Matilda blinked. She lifted a wing, and the reflections lifted theirs. She hopped left, and they hopped, too. All this time, she had not been leading, only chasing herself.

For a moment, the wind whispered through the cracks. Then, Matilda laughed—a sharp, free caw into the sky. “Well, would you look at that,” she murmured. “A queen with no kingdom.”

The sparrow tilted its head. “Or a bird who was never meant to follow.”

Matilda considered this. Perhaps she had spent too long seeking devotion when she had always been free. Perhaps the only crow she needed to impress was the one soaring in the wind, not the one trapped in glass.

With a final glance at the mirror, she spread her wings and took flight, leaving behind the broken reflections that had never truly been there.

From that day on, Matilda no longer sought a flock. She flew as she pleased, answered to no one, and let the wind carry her where it willed.

And if ever she caught her reflection in a puddle or a pane of glass, she would only wink—then disappear into the endless sky.