Drabble Wednesday flies off with the birds this week, especially with one bird, the raven…
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
They circle over head as I trudge. As it has always been. I trudge, they circle. My companions, the ravens. I welcome the sight of their black wings outstretched, the harsh croak uttered from their beaks.
It makes the punishment less somehow, even though this was not the intent.
No, they were sent to keep watch over me.
The ravens are my guards, messengers to those who imprisoned me with this ghostly immortality. They ensure my soul will never rest, and they are my only friends.
So I trudge, mile after mile, eon after eon, alone save for my ravens.
It sits outside my window in the oak tree. A common raven, a sooty feathered bird watching me. An ominous creature, perched on the edge.
I know it’s waiting for me.
But it shan’t have me yet. No, not yet. Not until I’m done. Not until I’m finished. Then the wretched bird can have me. Then it can feast on my corpse and peck out my eyes. Leastwise, I’ll naught be good for anything but worm food, when my project’s done.
It won’t have long to wait, just one more. One more to kill.
Then the raven can come…
Shadow Against The Moon
The air shivers with the beat of their wings, and their shades flit across the moon, shattering its pale contrast against the inky sky. They scream, her raven servants, a raucous screech to herald her coming.
They clear her path, those black birds of the Morrigan.
Her silhouette chills the wind, and deadens the shine of moonlight. Beyond and above, the ravens fly, and some perch proudly on her shoulders. In one hand she carries a lantern, lit with fire, in the other a sword. In her footsteps, the trodden grass withers and dies.
Tonight, the Morrigan comes for me.
© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved