Horror Fiction: Counting Crows

Five crows. 

Yesterday, he could have sworn there were six sitting atop the park bench. He glanced at them, shuddered when he had an ominous thought about all of the crows turning their heads to look at him.

He jogged away and felt relief only when he reached home.

The next day, there were four crows.

After that, three.

Two.

One.

The day after, he felt a chill run down his spine when he saw the park bench empty.

And then he felt a clenching pain running down his arm. Then his chest. He couldn't breathe anymore.

He collapsed and fell to the ground.

He could hear the panicked cries of the other joggers. They rushed over to them. 

But he didn't hear their cries. 

He could hear the crows calling out in the distance.