In a desolate land, a raven perched on a tree branch overlooking a sullen field. The raven plucked at one eye with precision while the other stared blankly ahead. The sun dipped toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the dry, cracked earth as a soft breeze blew from the south. The land seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for something to happen.
In the middle of the field, a man lay sprawled on the ground, his lifeless sockets aimed at the sky. His outstretched hand inches away from a briefcase. His cold fingers longed to touch the salvation that would never come, for the man’s fate had been sealed.
The raven continued to watch, its claws pressing into the tree branch as the dissection came to a close. Suddenly, the sound of a broken branch caught the raven’s attention. Tipping its head, the raven listened intently for signs of intrusion as the carrion host had no invitations to the party. The once quiet field was now alive with the rustling of leaves and the snapping of twigs underfoot.
From the edge of the field, a figure emerged, clutching a revolver. The man’s eyes were cold and calculating, scanning the area as he approached the fallen body. The raven, now alert, watched the intruder’s every move. It sensed danger but could not flee; it was a witness to the unfolding tragedy.
As the stranger closed in on the body, he raised the revolver and took aim at the raven. With a deep breath held in, he pulled the trigger. The hammer fell with fatal precision as the bullet pierced the raven’s eye. In an instant, the only witness to the crime was silenced, its mind scattered across the field of dreams along with the briefcase.
The man cautiously approached the corpse, his eyes never leaving the briefcase. Finally, his warm fingers closed around the handle, and a sinister smile spread across his face. The briefcase, filled with the promise of wealth and power, now possessed its next victim.
But little did the man know that the land he stood upon held a curse. Whoever claimed the briefcase would suffer a tragic fate, and the raven was the guardian of this dark secret. As the man turned to leave, the wind began to howl, and the sky darkened. The briefcase, once an object of desire, now clutched the man’s destiny in its cold, unforgiving grip. The cycle of greed and death continued, and the land remained a desolate place where dreams went to die
