Quoth the Raven

Jim Stitzel

I dabble a little in a lot of things — writing, webcomics, gaming, photography, web design, music, and more. I’m a full-time code-wrangler with far, far too much to do.


I laid on my back on the forest floor, the deadfall beneath me striving vainly to push me closer to the sky. Perched above me a black raven rested on a branch, peering intently down at me, just as it had for the last two hours. The creature never moved, never blinked, never stretched a wing. It might have been dead, for all I knew, except that the occasional gust of wind forced it to readjust its stance.

We remained like that for a long time, the raven and I, staring at one another in quiet communion. I didn't know why it held such an interest in me -- or I in it, for that matter. But there was a sense of calm between us I couldn't explain.

An old poem I'd read as a child kept replaying through my mind as I laid there. I'm sure you've heard of it. I kept expecting the raven to utter the word, "Nevermore!" and fly on its way. But it never did.

So I said it, instead. "Nevermore!" I called. The raven cocked its head in response, curious at my outburst. "So you do move," I breathed. "That's good to know."


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Comments (1 so far!)

Robert Quick

Robert Quick

Enchanting. I'm fond of ravens in stories, although I mix up crows and ravens no matter how many times I look up the differences. Would like to see more.

  • #2960 Posted 13 days ago

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