Raining on Ravenheart

Her skin was whiter than white, making her flesh shine through

Her eyes were blue when she was a child; now, she painted them black.

She had seen a lot in life that had hurt her, but that’s not the point of this story.

The point is that it changed her; it quieted here.

At least, to the outside world; while inside, the constant war of words went on.

And she fought and argued with herself; she won some, and she lost some.

But her every victory drew her away from the world; so she drew on herself with ink

And her every defeat helped her build the wall around herself; so she drew on herself with ink again.

Till the white skin shone black, in memory of those victories and the defeats.

And her face was hidden beneath the mask of sorrow

And her eyes, once as blue as the sky, were veiled behind the blackness those eyes had seen.

She left this world behind; she got lost in the private world she built.

She also spoke to the animals and birds; ravens had a special place in her heart.

For they, like her, shone black as well.

She runs away often; she’s run away today as well.

Not too far today, though; just to the lake behind the hills.

She seems to be waiting for something, but it can’t be the sun.

She says she hates the sun; but then, her eyes are shifty when she says it, so I can never know for sure if she’s telling the truth.

I hope she’s waiting for the rain, because the clouds overhead look promising.

But wait; is that a glint of regret in her eyes? Regret that the sun won’t be here?

And now, she hangs her head in sorrow; and shivers in the chilly air.

And from the gusts of wind that blow over her from the flapping wings of her raven.

Does she long for the sun, after all? Does she miss the warmth, and the life, that the sun promises every day?

And then, it rained upon her; and on her special raven.

And a little of the ink was washed away; but only a little…

~

Inspired from Magpie Tales.

Whatsername

Her hair had highlights. I hate highlights. But then, that was the only thing that I could hate about her.

No, wait; for the first time in my life, I found that I couldn’t hate highlights, no matter how hard I tried.

So, her hair had highlights, but I couldn’t hate them for the first time in my life.

And her eyes were like two blue orbs bulging from her sockets; and if that sounds rude, I admit that I am exaggerating.

She was made up, but there wasn’t much that she needed to hide. Or maybe, there wasn’t much that she wanted to hide.

It was a subtle difference that I understood. She took the hint, and smiled back at me. That smile told me that she had wanted me to understand that subtle difference.

She was wearing all black, and the highlights of her hair (damned highlights that I couldn’t keep my eyes off!) shone amber under the streetlamp.

Twinkling winking blinking at me. Much like her eyes, the blue almond shaped (and not too bulging) eyes.

The eyes were looking at me. They were talking to me, in the way that only beautiful eyes can talk.

That look was seductive.

That look was suggestive.

So, I did what I had to… I stepped on the pedal and raced away.

I fled the scene, as fast as I could.

I know what you’re thinking, but don’t judge me too fast.

I mean, I was scared. And she…

Well, she was a ‘working girl’…

~

The Green Stone Eye

Apart from his imposing height, strong jaws and the one stone eye, he looked like a very usual man. He blended in well with the crowd, too – so well, in fact, that it was hard for others to notice him unless they were actively looking for him. This was a little strange, in my opinion, considering the fact that he wasn’t trying to hide, or trying to get by unnoticed. He just stood there by the wall, unnoticed by the flurry of activity that surrounded him. The hosts and the guests of the party moved all around the room, fluttering from one end of the room to the other, always accompanied by a joke or an anecdote, while he stood like a lone rock among a large school of fish; stoic, silent, immovable. He took it all in with his eyes, and stood there propped against the wall with a small glass of whiskey sitting comfortably in his hands.

The party was on in full swing, with small groups congregated across the rooms, and there was something common between the both of us. We were both standing alone in the midst of activity, but while I was uncomfortable being in that position, he was confident in his solitude within the crowd. There was a part of me that wanted to be able to go up to him and talk to him, but there was another part of me that was hesitant. Of what, I’m not too sure – maybe that part of me wanted to be as comfortable in my alonedom as he was with his.

And then there was the part of me that was scared of him. You see, it’s not every day that you see an imposing man like him with one eye made of stone, lifeless and unblinking. So, although I knew it to be an irrational fear, I was terrified of approaching him. The more I stayed uncomfortably on my side of the wall, the greater the fear grew. I started wondering how he had lost the one eye, and what adventures that eye had seen before it was taken away from him. I found myself spinning adventure stories, one after the other, in my head. Of course, there was no way for me to know if any of that was true or not, but I still couldn’t stop. I had resigned myself to stand there all through the evening, smiling uncomfortably every time someone caught my eye, and look on jealously to this lonely stranger enjoying being ignored so much. I found myself wishing that I could be like him as well.

He drained the last of his whiskey, and with that done, started moving towards the bar to get another refill. My discomfort on the rise, I realised that he would pass my way while going to the bar. I quickly looked away, avoiding all sorts of eye contact with him – stone or natural. It wasn’t easy, though, as focussing on anything else seemed something of a challenge at the moment. The dancing couple couldn’t hold my attention, the flashing jukebox didn’t seem flashy enough, and all the while I could hear his heavy footsteps getting closer and closer. I wanted to flee, and hoped that my brain would be able to make up an excuse and run away from the party at that very moment.

“Man, lame party, isn’t it?” he said in a low voice the moment he reached. The green stone eye was staring right into me, but from close up, it didn’t seem that terrifying anymore. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this uncomfortable in my life. I don’t even know anyone out here! And from the looks of it, neither do you,” he added with a smile.

It took me a few moments, but then I smiled and shook his hand, and walked over to the bar with him for a refill myself.

~

Inspired from Magpie Tales