Daily Screams

The Hawk

Sharp eyes that can spot a sewer rat from fifteen stories up and ear-indents that hear beyond the static buzzing of telephone masks. A beak designed to rip flesh from bone and talons that can sink so deep into a stray’s ribs as to curl round on themselves again.
Under the soffit, three meters above and to her right, she can sense the chicks fretting. That fierce ingrained instinct that keeps her near can hardly be described as maternal; but somewhere, behind those cold, yellow eyes is a cruelly calculating brain - just fizzing with insanity and hatred.
There is a noise below her.
One of the squidgy two-legged animals that infest her city is dangling, ten stories up and supported by garish plastic straps. She cocks her head and makes a decision.

Splat.
There’s a release of pressure and a lightening of her body. The greenish sludge hits the human full in the face and she snickers in satisfaction. A flick of her beak, and the chewed-up pigeon leg dangling from her mouth joins the shit on the intruder’s revolted face.
Still he doesn’t leave.
In fact, the window-cleaner is approaching further. Approaching her nest.

With a scream of rage she plummets. Wings pulled in tight, head tucked in, legs retracted high into her body. It’s only a short drop so she needs dive as hard as possible for full effect. Hissing and screaming she flings out her wings, arches her neck, and thrusts her talons as hard as possible into the human’s face.
But a sheet of clear glass bounces her away from her victim and hurls her inside the human’s burrow where another of the filthy vermin lays in wait.
She turns her attention on this new threat. Hooked beak and razor talons ripping the human female’s gossamer-thin skin. Blood and gore splat from the woman onto the windows. Outside, the horrified window-cleaner looks on with morbid fascination, still dangling in his ridiculous stirrups.

The she-human flails under her attack; waving pudgy and stripped-raw hands, ineffectively trying to beat her away. A be-ringed and nearly skinless hand slaps against the bloody window, leaving a demonic scratching print.


Prompt: A message written (in condensation*) on glass or mirror
Word Count: 359

*yeah, it isn't, but I was totally ripping off bobturn at the time, so...