Deal with Him | Lee Heeseung

1-A sinful rendezvous

The deafening, never-dying sound of the church bell rings through her ears, masking away a song she is trying to remember with desperation. Her eyes glare at the divine building, accusing its noise of having broken the chain of thoughts she struggled so badly to form.

Reasons for not being keen on church outside of this particular event were already there, running mazes inside of her synapses, but this is her very last straw.

Evelyn's pace quickens as her skin fights with November's unforgiving rush of wind that is forcing itself into her tissue barrier. It takes away the ravens' shrieks and jumbles them in the air with the tintinnabulation, violating everyone's hearing senses.

She forces her hands to remain in the black coat's pockets and not cover up her ear holes in pure annoyance. That would do her no good, a state of serenity would have even lower chances of shaping, with the people's attention on her.

Instead of giving in to the urges that seemed to have their own consciousness, she settles with keeping up her steps in an attempt to arrive at her comfortable house before the dangerous, intimidating clouds decide it would be a great day to ruin her new clothes.

Her hand finds the length of long black charcoal hair, moving it to the left side of the shoulder ever so elegantly before stuffing it back into the way-too-thin material of the coat. The weather given is not appropriate for the poor choice of clothing she made.

Autumn has made its presence known, staining the streets with faddy shades of Stygian and the people's faces with more than the usual solemnity.

Evelyn is no exception to those people. Her heart holds as much misery as a human can take, her mind is constantly bugged with unexplored and unimaginably graphic images, and her face is the best mirror of a soul anyone can create in a lifetime.

Her eyebrows furrow together as a wave of dust, leaves, and cold air slaps her face with unforgiving strength. The reasons just add up to the imaginary list of things to hate for the day.

The girl's mind cannot process what God's reason for this exceptionally gloomy day of fall may be. Truly, she can't figure out any of his reasoning, his motives, or his choices. She turns her head once again to the Gothic church's tower, watching as the old tiles are nearing the edge, just waiting with eagerness to fall and hit the freezing ground. But they don't, at least not when she is looking.

A few short seconds later, she refocuses her gaze on her front, her street, and, respectively, her house. Her old house, looking like it came straight out of the Dark Shadow's dystopian background. It is small, scary, presumably scary enough to keep the curious minds away, but tidied up and her own.

Her body flinches and almost falls on the cold, hard ground—like the tower's tiles never did—when an ear-shattering scream of ravens fills the air for the thousandth time. Although the town is an expert at stealing away silence and any remaining happiness from one's soul, the deafening sound still shakes her.

Her ears seem to be in a constant fight with the outside world as even her steps begin to sneak into her audible sense, the cracks on the paving weaving their noises with the present howls of the death harbingers—the ravens.

Evelyn feels the shivers down her spine, creeping too close to her neck like they are trying to bite it and suck off her blood—as if her essence is not already drained and dry.

She remembers the bell just rang, meaning it had to be a little past six pm already. It occurred to her that it was just another day with even less free time than the others, although she didn't have a thing to attend to or do or watch or care about whatsoever.

Meaningless is not the word to describe it, but for her, it goes along the lines, her life.

"Maybe it's not about the meaning or purpose one holds. Maybe it is just about feeling something other than heart numbness," she thinks, ruminating a just-read book, "a purpose is, anyway, just an excuse."