Raven
A cool breeze blew throw the rot iron bars around the porch, tousling Andrew’s short blonde hair. The bars had been there when they bought the house, Andrew and his wife Natalie. In this part of the country, they came standard. Summer homes like this were a prime target for local gangs. One group in particular seemed to enjoy the art of breaking and entering so much that they had tried it twice on this house already, even though their one successful attempt had proven that there was nothing of value inside the house.
Andrew waited for them every evening around dusk. They had not shown up since their last visit but he waited all the same. He didn’t know what he would do if they showed up again but he wasn’t about to let them hurt his wife. Andrew pulled Natalie across their wooden bench closer to him while he sat in thought. They had almost cut their vacation short because of the harassment, but they had decided to stick it out. Locals said it was normal and they would leave them alone now that they had their fun.
And fun is exactly what it seemed like they were having. That was why Andrew was far from convinced that they wouldn’t show up again. It was beyond him why the local authorities did nothing to stop them. The gang consisted of ten or so youths, the oldest no more than fourteen and the smallest looking at most to be five or six. But ten to two was bad odds whether you were fourteen or forty.
Andrew exhaled loudly drawing a concerned look from Natalie. He stared into his wife’s deep brown eyes; looked at the flecks of green in them, visible only in the right light. It was a moment before she spoke.
“Let’s go inside now,” she said softly, “No one is coming. It’s been three weeks.”
Andrew didn’t respond. He merely gave his wife a half smile before looking back toward the ever-setting sun. He had seen more sunsets on this vacation then he had in his entire life. The huge sphere threw pinks and purples across the sky. It was beautiful. But Andrew had stopped appreciating it lately. He connected those vibrant colors with terrible thoughts now. And then his gaze shifted again. To Max. The fourteen year old, dirty blonde urchin who now stood in Andrew’s yard.
Max wore a smile, one that was shared by his companions. Only five others stood behind Max, which made Andrew wonder where the others were. He peered into the trees surrounding the sides of the house but could see no one. Andrew spoke then.
“Where are your friends?”
Max kept on smiling, like he knew something Andrew did not. “They had other engagements. Besides, I know this place inside out now. I’ll have no trouble coming in to play.”
Andrew smiled now too. “What do you plan to do? Break in right here, in plain sight? Us watching will put a bit of a damper on things don’t you think?”
Max Laughed, “It will only make it more fun, old man.”
Old man? Andrew was twenty-three. Far from old. But then, he was facing a group of pre-teens. A wave of shame passed through him that he would be afraid of these children. He opened his mouth to speak again, to tell Max and his friends he was not intimidated, but Max cut him off and chaos followed.
The boys broke apart and surrounded the house. Tearing at bars on windows, trying the back door, shaking the porch gate. Max was one who had retreated behind the house. Andrew and Natalie looked around, shaken. It was Andrew who spoke first.
“The cellar window!” he spat.
Natalie looked confused, worried, “What?”
But Andrew was already moving to the door. “The cellar window has no bars on it.”
“It’s too small for anyone to fit through though.”
“Natalie,” Andrew said, “These are children.”
With that he threw open the door to of their expensive security enforced summer home and ran to the cellar stairs. The door was already ajar so Andrew pushed it open wider and rushed down the stairs. They never left the cellar door open, but Andrew had no time to think about that. Besides, he had just noticed the shattered window of the empty cellar.
Cursing loudly, Andrew ascended the steps in a hurry. He ran to the front door which was closed and locked. He quickly unbolted the door and swung it open to find his wife at the tip of Max’s rusty steel blade which seemed to smile at Andrew every bit as much as the boy himself. The man stopped dead and noticed another boy at his side with his own happy blade.
“Stop this now, Max.” Andrew half-begged, half-ordered.
“Stop?” Max sneered, “But it’s just now getting fun.”
The two boys on the porch laughed. The others were no where to be seen. Andrew barely noticed. Max put the blade closer to Natalie’s neck, almost touching it now. Did he really intend to hurt them, or was this just a game? Or was hurting them the goal of the game? Andrew shivered in the hot evening air.
“Max, you need to stop, now!” Andrew said with conviction. He knew it was an ultimate truth. The boy had to cease immediately.
“Or what, old man? You are in no position to threaten me.”
Andrew knew that that should have been true. But even as that truth coursed through him another, stronger truth was emerging. At the same time dark clouds began to gather over head.
“Max,” Andrew’s voice took on a warning tone now, “Take your friend, and leave. Go home.”
Max laughed again. That damn laugh had plagued Andrew dreams for weeks. Now he pitied it. He knew the boy’s humor to be short lived. But he didn’t want it to be that way. He could feel it. Closer now.
“Max, go home.” Thunder cracked.
Max glanced at the sky, nerves visibly shaken for a moment. But he regained his footing.
“I’m not going anywhere. This is too much fun.” He said each word like he could taste it in his mouth, and he loved it.
The sky was dark as night now and getting still darker. Thunder sounded and wind blew. Andrew knew what was coming. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen it; wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Max needed to leave.
“Max, you need to listen. Go home. Now.”
“I already told you,” Max began.
Andrew cut him off, “Go home!” It was forming now. The clouds swirled madly. They seemed to solidify. For the second time Max lifted his eyes to the sky. This time he did not look back down.
Max’s friend spoke for the first time, “Something’s happening man. Let’s get out of here. There might be, like, a tornado or something. Max didn’t respond. He just stared. He could probably feel it now.
“Max,” his friend again, “Come on man!” When Max kept silent, his friend began to back out of the porch area. “Alright man, do whatever you want. I’m leaving.” With that, Max’s friend deserted him at a run.
Andrew spoke, almost a yell, “Go home Max! Go home!” The form in the clouds was nearly completed. You could almost make out a head, a beak.
Max looked terrified now, but he seemed frozen to the ground on which he stood. He dropped his knife and his arm fell to his side.
Natalie ran across the porch to Andrew’s side.
“Go home, Max!” Andrew growled. The boy didn’t move. His face only contorted more with a sickening mix of confusion and fear by the minute as he started at the sky.
The clouds were a deep red now, just a shade from black though. In them there seemed to pulse the half-solid form of a bird. A raven.
Andrew screamed at the boy, “Go home!”
Over and over he screamed for the boy to leave but he would not. He was crying now.
The raven descended, Andrew screamed, Max cried.
The bird swept down at amazing speed. At least three times the size of a man, it’s descent was terrifying. Andrew could feel the bird. It was in him, in his soul. But he could do nothing to stop it. It had begun and now it would be finished. All he could do was yell at the boy to go home. A futile effort but he tried.
Then all at once the bird was upon the boy. The clouds swirled about the boy in a mass of chaos. Andrew and Natalie shrank back against the black bars of the porch. It last only moments. Then it was over.
The clouds dissipated. The setting sun finished its descent. The couple stared at the boy who in turn stared at the trees, at nothing. He was not dead. His fate was worse. He would not move. He would not eat. He would do nothing if he was not forced.
Never again would he speak. Never again would he play. Never again would he laugh.
Never.
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