For Reemul
Aug. 2nd, 2003 03:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ferineDescending.
Falling through clouds, feather light.
Returning.
There comes a time when we must stop, breathe, and open our eyes in wonder. Open our eyes to wonder.
**************
What the hell was that? Minerva shot upright as something thudded on the roof. Was there a storm? She listened intently as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
She stumbled across the room to her window and peered through the blinds. The pavement below glistened in the streetlight. So it did rain, okay. Probably just lightning making thuddy noises then. No biggee, back to bed.
A half hour passed and Minerva was still awake. She got up, annoyed, and walked down the hall to the living room. She flipped on the TV and then the goose-neck lamp by the window. An eye stared at her through the window.
“What the f----!”, Minerva yelped, fumbling with the lamp and sending it flying to the floor. Shadows danced wildly. It was disorienting, and Minerva had to place a hand on the wall for a moment to steady herself.
She reached down quickly and brought the lamp up to the window, hoping to take the peeping tom by surprise. Of course, by then it was too late. Nothing but the ambient glow of streetlights and a few leftover rain drops on the glass.
Wait a minute. Minerva’s apartment was on the fifth floor. There was no balcony. How could there have been an eye, let alone a face, let alone a person, out there? There wasn’t even a ledge out there wide enough for a cat to creep on.
Okay, maybe she had been seeing things. Yes, lamplight reflected through a raindrop. Not an eyeball… sheesh, what a goof.
Minerva thought about picking up a pair of drawstring blinds for the sliding glass doors, like those covering her bedroom window, to avoid instances like this, if anything. She chuckled at her foolishness and sprawled onto the couch. An old Heckle & Jeckle cartoon was on TV.
A barely audible scratching came from the door. The hair on the back of Minerva’s neck stood up. She muted the TV and sat quietly. If she didn’t budge maybe she would somehow hear better. Yeah, right, like not using her body would enhance her hearing to the level of a superhero. What a goof!
The scratching grew louder, as if more assured. Maybe it was the neighbor’s cat? The door did open to outside stairs, after all. If it were a person out there the doorknob would rattle, or they would knock. Right?
Minerva steeled herself and inched toward the door. She looked through the peephole, expecting to see nothing. A cat would be too low to see through the hole. Then she would open the door, pet the kitty, and feed it some leftover pepperoni toppings from last night’s pizza. When it got light out she would go to the neighbor’s apartment and return the cat, none the worse for wear.
Instead, a large black orb blinked at her through the peephole. Frozen in place, Minerva stared as the orb backed away from the door and exposed itself as a black eye, half of a pair. It was a raven, but huge -- tall as a man, with humanoid arms and legs! The hands were like bird talons, as were the feet. Otherwise it was as a raven, the beak, black orb eyes, wings, and tail. Impossible, way impossible. Probably fell back to sleep watching Heckle & Jeckle and it inspired this.
Okay, right. What to do? Minerva did have a penchant for dreams that held symbolic meaning. This sure seemed like one. Most significant journeys began with opening a door. Easy enough.
Minerva undid the safety chain and slid back the bolt. She took a deep breath and opened the door. She half expected nothing to be there, but there the raven man stood. At least she thought it was a man; its anatomy was concealed in trim black feathers.
The raven cocked his head awkwardly, even comically, and seemed to be as surprised by Minerva’s appearance as she was by his. The raven remembered Minerva as an Egyptian princess and his sister-bride. The raven remembered Minerva as the soul of a lynx in a crippled vessel, and as his sister-in-spirit. The raven knew each lifetime they reconnected.
As Minerva stared, there was something familiar to the soft depth in the raven’s eyes. She felt as if her soul was swirling through whirlwinds of stars and cloud dust of time, all by looking into those black orb eyes. She knew this raven, somehow.
The raven knew her even now. The raven would always know her, no matter what her name or face. He reached out to gather her close. Minerva didn’t resist, and surrendered to his embrace. She breathed in the velvety softness of his breast and knew this was home. She remembered, oh God how she remembered! Lifetimes of laughter, love, self-discovery, wonderment, and support… and she relived each death in that hug, as well as each rebirth.
The raven launched off the stairwell, clutching Minerva tightly to him. His finger talons dug into her, drawing blood, but it didn’t bother her. She knew she had felt it before, and it meant security.
They glided through darkness, the city’s glow muted through wisps of storm cloud. They ascended, clearing the cloud cover. They loop-de-looped in front of the yellow half moon. They laughed and held one another as one.
The raven knew Minerva’s world wasn’t ready for him. The raven had met with her as destiny dictated, and they would meet again. He brought her back to the stairwell with a flapping of wings and an ungraceful thud. The raven reluctantly released his hold on Minerva.
Minerva slowly backed up and smiled up at the raven. She raised a hand to his feathered cheek. "See you next life."
She softly kissed the side of his beak, and waved as he turned and flew off into the horizon.
Minerva twirled a giant raven feather in her hand and sat on the stairwell, watching the sunrise. It hadn’t been a dream after all. A few ravens few by, cawing. Minerva couldn’t help but smile.
Falling through clouds, feather light.
Returning.
There comes a time when we must stop, breathe, and open our eyes in wonder. Open our eyes to wonder.
What the hell was that? Minerva shot upright as something thudded on the roof. Was there a storm? She listened intently as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
She stumbled across the room to her window and peered through the blinds. The pavement below glistened in the streetlight. So it did rain, okay. Probably just lightning making thuddy noises then. No biggee, back to bed.
A half hour passed and Minerva was still awake. She got up, annoyed, and walked down the hall to the living room. She flipped on the TV and then the goose-neck lamp by the window. An eye stared at her through the window.
“What the f----!”, Minerva yelped, fumbling with the lamp and sending it flying to the floor. Shadows danced wildly. It was disorienting, and Minerva had to place a hand on the wall for a moment to steady herself.
She reached down quickly and brought the lamp up to the window, hoping to take the peeping tom by surprise. Of course, by then it was too late. Nothing but the ambient glow of streetlights and a few leftover rain drops on the glass.
Wait a minute. Minerva’s apartment was on the fifth floor. There was no balcony. How could there have been an eye, let alone a face, let alone a person, out there? There wasn’t even a ledge out there wide enough for a cat to creep on.
Okay, maybe she had been seeing things. Yes, lamplight reflected through a raindrop. Not an eyeball… sheesh, what a goof.
Minerva thought about picking up a pair of drawstring blinds for the sliding glass doors, like those covering her bedroom window, to avoid instances like this, if anything. She chuckled at her foolishness and sprawled onto the couch. An old Heckle & Jeckle cartoon was on TV.
A barely audible scratching came from the door. The hair on the back of Minerva’s neck stood up. She muted the TV and sat quietly. If she didn’t budge maybe she would somehow hear better. Yeah, right, like not using her body would enhance her hearing to the level of a superhero. What a goof!
The scratching grew louder, as if more assured. Maybe it was the neighbor’s cat? The door did open to outside stairs, after all. If it were a person out there the doorknob would rattle, or they would knock. Right?
Minerva steeled herself and inched toward the door. She looked through the peephole, expecting to see nothing. A cat would be too low to see through the hole. Then she would open the door, pet the kitty, and feed it some leftover pepperoni toppings from last night’s pizza. When it got light out she would go to the neighbor’s apartment and return the cat, none the worse for wear.
Instead, a large black orb blinked at her through the peephole. Frozen in place, Minerva stared as the orb backed away from the door and exposed itself as a black eye, half of a pair. It was a raven, but huge -- tall as a man, with humanoid arms and legs! The hands were like bird talons, as were the feet. Otherwise it was as a raven, the beak, black orb eyes, wings, and tail. Impossible, way impossible. Probably fell back to sleep watching Heckle & Jeckle and it inspired this.
Okay, right. What to do? Minerva did have a penchant for dreams that held symbolic meaning. This sure seemed like one. Most significant journeys began with opening a door. Easy enough.
Minerva undid the safety chain and slid back the bolt. She took a deep breath and opened the door. She half expected nothing to be there, but there the raven man stood. At least she thought it was a man; its anatomy was concealed in trim black feathers.
The raven cocked his head awkwardly, even comically, and seemed to be as surprised by Minerva’s appearance as she was by his. The raven remembered Minerva as an Egyptian princess and his sister-bride. The raven remembered Minerva as the soul of a lynx in a crippled vessel, and as his sister-in-spirit. The raven knew each lifetime they reconnected.
As Minerva stared, there was something familiar to the soft depth in the raven’s eyes. She felt as if her soul was swirling through whirlwinds of stars and cloud dust of time, all by looking into those black orb eyes. She knew this raven, somehow.
The raven knew her even now. The raven would always know her, no matter what her name or face. He reached out to gather her close. Minerva didn’t resist, and surrendered to his embrace. She breathed in the velvety softness of his breast and knew this was home. She remembered, oh God how she remembered! Lifetimes of laughter, love, self-discovery, wonderment, and support… and she relived each death in that hug, as well as each rebirth.
The raven launched off the stairwell, clutching Minerva tightly to him. His finger talons dug into her, drawing blood, but it didn’t bother her. She knew she had felt it before, and it meant security.
They glided through darkness, the city’s glow muted through wisps of storm cloud. They ascended, clearing the cloud cover. They loop-de-looped in front of the yellow half moon. They laughed and held one another as one.
The raven knew Minerva’s world wasn’t ready for him. The raven had met with her as destiny dictated, and they would meet again. He brought her back to the stairwell with a flapping of wings and an ungraceful thud. The raven reluctantly released his hold on Minerva.
Minerva slowly backed up and smiled up at the raven. She raised a hand to his feathered cheek. "See you next life."
She softly kissed the side of his beak, and waved as he turned and flew off into the horizon.
Minerva twirled a giant raven feather in her hand and sat on the stairwell, watching the sunrise. It hadn’t been a dream after all. A few ravens few by, cawing. Minerva couldn’t help but smile.
