The Raven Queen

On her beak of a nose rests a pair of glasses with dark red rims. I don’t think she needs them; she takes them off when she reads or drives, and I for one am never in doubt when those sharp eyes pierce my back. She is always slightly hunched as if she hides wings under her loose black sweater. I don’t know where she lives, but I bet it’s on a hill. I can picture her perched in the window of a high tower, gazing out over the town, screeching to the thunderclouds.

 

At first I planned to talk to her, but now I know I’ll never dare. So I go to the library every day, peering at her through bookshelves, pretending to read as she passes, and hope that she will do something, anything, to reveal her true nature, something that will let me know for sure whether she really is The Raven Queen.

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2 Comments

  1. She probably knows you’re watching Her. Might be best to just go speak to Her, and see what happens rather than waiting for Her to lose patience waiting for you. Just a thought. 😀

    Reply

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