by Alexandra Cenni
"If by chance you see a raven, death is sure to follow"
He was watching me again last night. At least I believe him to be a he, but have never drawn close enough to make sure. Terrified. Scared. Like no other thing he brings these feelings out of me.
I hate him for that.
When old Mags told me to beware the raven, I thought she was loony. What could a raven do that war and famine have not already done? What of the old tales that say he is the familiar of the great Phantom Queen? This is the age of technology, there is no place for petty deities any longer.
On nights that I see him fly between my window (so close his wing brushes the pane of glass) and the yew tree closest to my house, his maw open but no sound comes forth. I huddle under my covers on those nights, repeating the prayer that Father Thomas has told me to say in the face of evil.
Tonight feels different though. Maybe its the full moon, or maybe its because I have finally had my first blood, regardless I can feel the difference. Tonight when he flies by I don't believe he will be silent any longer. Tonight my fate will be decided. Tonight my choice has to be made.
Do I stay, cowering in fear as I always have? Or do I go, becoming something that should be feared?