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The rain thundered down, drumming
on roofs and dancing down drainpipes, landing with an audible splash on the tarmac. The wind whirred and howled, the wolf
of the sky, making its power known to those below.
Amidst the din, a low rumble
could be heard, starting off small before reaching a crescendo, a loud, deafening roar. I hear thunder…a beast awakens.
I hear thunder…low and deadly.
And truly the most powerful contender,
a spark of lightening, forking its way to the ground, flashing and crackling, snapping branches from trees in its path. The
only light in the grey sky.
A girl stared out at the chaos,
safe within the warmth and light of a temporary cabin. She tried hard to focus her attention back to her essay, but it couldn’t
be done.
A lock of jet-black hair fell
over her face, before quickly being swept behind her ear. She was an attractive young lady, with deep blue eyes and thick,
luscious red lips. Her dark hair was piled up on her head, secured by a silver grip. Her skin was deathly pale, a strange
ivory contrast to the midnight of her hair. Yet chemicals or creams, didn’t secure the look, her style was nature’s
intention.
Her name was Onyx Star, a name
to match the pendant her mother wore when she was born and to mirror her dull black locks and twinkling eyes.
She chewed on the end of her
pen, gazing out as the trees bowed and swayed on the wind’s command. She sighed, longing to feel the power and energy
of the storm outside, yet dreading the journey back home in the bitter cold.
As she stared, she watched a
bird dance along the rooftop of the neighbouring cabin. It was black as night, its beak yellow, and its black eyes cold, dark.
A raven.
“One for sorrow.”
She noted to herself, softly.
All of a sudden, the raven stopped
dead, facing her desk, seemingly staring at her through the glass. She looked back at it, their eyes meeting. She shuddered
and turned away, but something pulled at her, causing her to look back.
She whipped round quickly, hoping
to see it fly away, but still it stood, watching. She looked into its eyes once more, this time holding the eye contact for
longer, before once again losing her nerve and turning away.
She rose from her seat, making
a short walk to the front of the room to collect a dictionary. As she collected it and made the journey back to her desk,
she looked outside and there it was.
The large black bird was following
her, copying her every step, her every movement. She shuddered, taking the time to walk to the window, firmly closing the
curtain and sitting down.
The next hour was a blur as she
tried hard to concentrate on her work, but every now and then, her eyes would dart back to the curtain, half expecting it
to be open, and the bird staring at her.
Finally a bell could be heard,
she breathed a sigh of relief, signing her name at the top of the paper and scurrying out to brave the winter weather.
© Rebecca
Crossan 2004
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