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The musings of a mildly mad raven. |
| Simply setting up a summation of serious soliloquies. |
| [Disclaimer: All blog entries are written in character of author's Raven persona.] Flying low over a park, my eye could not help but catch the glint of something that shone and sparkled in the sunlight. I changed course immediately to investigate, landing expertly on the back of a bench. The shiny and bejeweled object dangled from the pages of a thick red book. Human hands gripped the thick red book and a puff of air ruffled my feathers at her gasp. She dared not move as my eye met hers. As she made no move to interfere, I reached out and snatched away her shiny object for myself. Yet, now that I had sated my curiosity in it, I looked instead to the words on the page. "It's a book about Alice in Wonderland." I turned my head one way and then the other as she spoke, the shimmering bookmark dipping to touch the pages. Alice in Wonderland? Yes, I knew that tale well. "You're in that one, you know?" she went on, amusement warming her expression. How well I did. A raven being likened to a writing desk, indeed. I dropped the shiny bookmark into her lap and shifted closer to her shoulder. "This one's more about the author, though. Lewis Carroll. Well, I guess that's not right. It's about putting the book into context, you know?" She gave me a questioning look and I bobbed my head. I knew quite well how important context could be as time shifted and changed this world. "It talks about all the different societal influences and how he was inspired by what he'd read and the state of science and mathematics at the time. He drew influence from a lot of places where people think he must have been unique in his thought processes. But, really, he was a product of his time. But I guess we all are." I bobbed my head in understanding. She gave me a strange look. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you understood me. But ravens are very intelligent, aren't they?" I stood proud and regal, puffing my chest out and posing against the stark winter sky. She laughed. "Do you want to read the rest with me?" I bobbed my head once more and perched directly upon her shoulder. It might do me well to learn more of this influential man and how he came to be the creature responsible for this oft-read tale. It was clear the author of this book had put in much time and effort in understanding both the man known as Carroll and the world in which he lived. He went so far as to familiarize himself with the books that Lewis Carroll had read in his lifetime. As we read on, I wondered what would possess someone to focus so very passionately on one man who had died over a century ago. Humans had such odd obsessions. I stole my treasure away and took to the sky, leaving the strange girl gaping in my wake. |
| How does a bird such as myself engage with mankind? If I open my beak to speak, my coarse voice is sure to frighten you. If I take the hand extended, your soft flesh is sure to feel the bite of sharp claws. I am a great listener, I assure you. I assure myself. I will be at your side, perched upon the pallid bust of interest. Yet with but a glance of your curious eyes, I feel the irresistible call to the sky. In my defeat, a voice calls hauntingly of nevermore. A word placed upon my soul by another, rooted so deep I feel it is my own. |
| [Disclaimer: All blog entries are written in character of author's Raven persona.] It was by mere chance alone that I found myself in the town of Chamberlain, Maine at the cusp of such a miraculous and cruel tale as that of Carrieta White. The moment I laid beady eye on her, I knew the glint I caught in her own would lead to something entertaining. So, I followed. And I watched. She endured unseen horrors at the hands of a madwoman who believed herself a mother. Worse were those she suffered in the dim-lit, locker-lined halls of school. Uneasy eyes turned from each torment suffered upon her. Humans are afraid to gaze into the sins of their own kind lest they find themselves mirrored back. And so, none could spare a moment's glance for Carietta White. None but Sue Snell. In seeing her own cruelty reflected in the pain of her victim, she endeavored to soothe her conscious, offering up her own mate to poor, pitiful Carietta White. Pitiful indeed. I kept my eye on the other girls, not so inclined to repent for their sins towards Carietta White. To no surprise, I found one clinging to the path of torment and revenge. Chris Hargensen and a boy not even this petty and vindictive child deserved, schemed and laid out their trap in the days leading up to the grand mating dance. I witnessed the critical moment with cold eyes. Just when Carietta White began to feel at one with her own kind - accepted or at the very least tolerated - it happened. Panicked and cruel hands pulled the rope and painted Carietta White red with blood. In that moment, her humanity dissipated. The world bent to her vengeful will. And she watched with glee as the children inside the school burned and writhed in agony. She moved through Chamberlain, leaving behind a line of fire and destruction none could predict. But from my bird's eye view, I could see the winding trail's end. Her next victim would be her greatest tormentor. I watched from the window, unable to hear the words they exchanged as mother and daughter faced one another at last. But the mother monster had no chance against the fast burning power of Carietta White. When she stumbled out of her home, a knife plunged deep in her shoulder, I could no more speculate on her destination than she herself. In the end, she met and promptly killed those who had triggered the horror of her powers. But she had weakened. The young human girl who had moved the town of Chamberlain, Maine from earth to the mouth of hell could no longer so much as turn herself over for one last glimpse of the night sky. As Sue Snell approached, I took my leave. For this story had ended and there remained a world more to explore. |
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