Flight of Deaths Counterpart

A Ravens Misery Is Death

Flight came easy for the black feathered caller to the dead. The Chihuahuan Raven lifted off of the tree limb it found itself rooted to. Dropping a few feet, until it began floated slowly toward the ground were the wind fully caught under its wings. The breeze lifted it bodily into the air with ease. The raven began its difficult task of collecting. With outstretched wings, a full stomach for the carrion it had found lying on the cold hard pavement earlier that morning, and a dizzying understanding of things unknown to most humans, it swam through the air.

         It is easy to collect the dead, or in the case of the raven, for collecting is deaths work, call for the arrival of death. It felt the urge come from deep within its mind, instilling in it a need to be somewhere. The raven wafted up into a warm breeze that lifted it high into the air. Traveling for quite a few miles before beginning its long slow decent towards the ground and the intended victim of the action so soon to be perpetrated.

         It had no idea where these feelings came from or the drive that forced the creature to range so far from its place of rest, daily. It would receive an urge and begin its travels. Meandering through its mind as it traveled wondering of things it truly had no comprehension of. Just that thing's always worked out and it found all that it needed and was looking for.

         As the Raven descended towards a parking lot filled with many cars and a few people, it looked for a perch. A place that it could hide in and scope the area around it for its intended target. It spotted a light pole hidden next to a tree and decided that this would be a great vantage point to witness most, if not all, of the creatures that would pass by.

         It was unsure of the intended creature death would summon, be it human or animal. All souls were of likeness so it had no qualms summoning death for any creature of the earth. Out of the corner of its eyes came a slender looking man. Tall and lanky with a warm looking plaid shirt and wood brown hair, stringy and falling awry on the top of the man's head. Blue eyes and the darkest pupils the Chihuahuan had ever seen in it existence.

         The creature knew instantly that this man was the intended. It lifted off of the Lamp post to get closer to the victim. With no choice of a perch, the bird knew that it would need to land upon the ground. It flattened itself out spreading its wings and curling them out as it came close to the ground catching the air and stalling as its feet came into contact with the earth.

         Looking around, it spotted the man twenty or so feet away. It began a hopping gate that is "the strut of the raven". The man caught sight of the raven and their pupils locked. This was the way it always began. The creature liked to see the eyes of the Intended before it let out the howling squawk that Summons Death to collect.

Its sight swam into the inner soul of the Intended. The air became crisp, as is the way, and time froze around the raven and the man outstretching to encompass everything and everyone. The sound of the call echoed and resounded throughout eternity and deeply penetrated the man's every being. This occurred as death crept in to lay the touch upon his chest.

Death drew near and the eyes of the raven were averted to meet those of the darkness. The Chihuahuan had meet the eyes of death many times before though something new and intriguing floated off out of its periphery. Death reached out its mangled limb. Not bone but torn, shredded, and aggressively bruised flesh hanging loosely onto the charred bone that formed arm and hand. Most did not care to view death the way it truly looked.

Its fingers grasped the man's heart through his chest. Its mangled flesh becoming shredding more as it squeezed the life from the man's Struggling heart. The body that held no life now had slumped to the ground and keeled over. Others were running over to see what had happened. People were shouting of a heart attack or an aneurism and the sound of sirens rang out in the background.

The Raven lifted into the air. Taking flight, the urge came as it always has and always will. It was drawn, as is the plight of the raven. If ever you are witness to the cold dark stare of the raven as it squawks to death to take you beware that it knows not why its duty is thus.