Haunts
The raven stares hard through the window, seems intent on reading the rants on the sheet of paper lying on the table as if they were a flavored part of my brain. The raven is a carnivore that feeds on non-veg dishes of fear and curiosity. I clutch at the sheet, fold it and put it in the drawer, lock it, and almost feel my rants have suddenly escalated from being rants to a costly piece of jewelry. The winnowing sound of the ceiling fan is terrible, makes you wonder of each moment that passes. The raven leaves, burning along with the dusk. I stare outside the window like a can of wine that was suddenly emptied by a drunkard's wife and the contents released through the sink-holes. I unlock the drawer, put the sheet in my fingers and start reading. They were just rants, nothing more. Why did the raven..? Oh shit! It's back again, why is it staring like that? Why is it here, now that it's evening? Black and black and black makes me puke. I tear the sheet into shreds of tears, and make a necklace out of it. And I throw it out of the window. The raven is no longer there. The evening stares at me like my past self in the mirror.
-Pin Dew (14/05/2017)
Copyright © Pin Dew | Year Posted 2017
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