Louise O'Neill: Even when the omens are ominous, it makes me feel less alone

I am someone who looks for signs. The number 63 has surfaced and re-surfaced in my life for such a long time now that I sneak the number into every book I write

Louise O'Neill Photo: Cathal Noonan

It started with the bird. I was sitting in my living room, reading, when I heard a loud banging noise. The dog jumped from his bed, howling at whatever was outside. It was a bird, I saw when I went to investigate. It had flown straight into the glass window panes and was now lying on the ground outside my front door, dead. Its brown feathers splayed; its right eye still open, ghoulishly white.

I stared at it for a few minutes, knowing I should do something, I should go and pick it up at least, but I seemed to be unable to move. Without taking my gaze off the bird, I phoned my father and explained the situation.