The Call of The Ravens

I

October 4th, 1986

Back then, whenever my hands flew over the keys of my piano, I drifted from the world. Work, bills, relationships—they all drifted away until they faded into nothingness. All that mattered was the music. How the notes ebbed and flowed together, and how the melody would echo in the room as if the walls were singing. I would play and play until the moon crawled to the top of the sky. Once I stopped, the weight of the world was once again lowered on me, weighing down my shoulders. I had to rip my fingers off the piano so I could drag myself off to bed.

Now, whenever I sat at my piano, my hands went cold. The keys were now simply black and white to me. They didn't hold the vibrant colour they did before. When I played any song, all of its melodies clashed together, and its beat would never stay steady. I also didn't drift away when I played. Instead, the weights of the world stacked higher and higher on me the longer I sat at the piano.

And it's all because Colette disappeared.

When she was still here, I would play for her and only her. Colette would open her mouth when I started playing, and all of the world's beauty and pleasures came out of it. Her words flowed with the melodies of my piano. And the way she went across the room as she moved to the beat! Nothing could compare to the way her brown hair flew through the air as she danced, and that wide grin that spread on her face whenever I played her favourite song.

Now that she is gone, the melody feels empty. There was no reason to play at all. Without her lyrics, no song sounded the same.

I gazed out of the window and the forest that sat behind it. The moon was up high now, accompanied by a sea of stars. The trees lurched, and sticks, dead leaves, and pebbles were tossed about by the howling wind. I blinked, and for a second, a pair of green eyes staring at me from the depths of the woods appeared. But before I could register it, they disappeared.

"She's gone," I whispered to myself. Yet, I couldn't tear my gaze away from the window. Colette was gone. I'm hallucinating. I've told myself that many times. But still, there might be a chance.

Then, a raven's squawk tore through the air. Every muscle of mine tensed, yet I still didn't look away. Colette was gone. But that didn't mean I didn't have to stop waiting for her to come back.

A raven then flies onto my windowsill, its yellow eyes piercing through the night. They looked right at me. I don't dare to look back at it.

Instead, I stared into the forest, waiting for those green eyes to reappear again.