Raven

prologue.

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It was just like any other night, when sleep eluded me, and under the pretense of enjoying the beauty of night, I remained awake.

3 am in the morning is a beautiful time as any. It's the time, when even death walked away, because the silence became so heavy, it choked. And unless one has spent hours talking to that parasitic silence, one could not survive it.

I would know, because it had taken me months before the silence opened up, and I let it inside me.

And as I said before, it was another usual night for me, when I looked out of my apartment searching for stars in a sky that had fallen through, and hid behind a fake glamour of the dead city lights.

It was all artificial, and that sickened me.

I walked back to the bed, and looked at the notes scattered on the mattress, as if they were bed-sheets. It was so random, that I had to stop, breath in, and look again. They were as nonsensical as my thoughts, and I just picked one to go through it. Apparently for no reason, because very soon my brain decided that it was too boring and bland.

I couldn't help thinking how monotonous my days and nights had become. Life shouldn't be so predictable. What was the joy in that?

And I also could not help thinking as if I am just a sailor trying to predict the temper of the sea I was travelling on. I should have perhaps thought that the sea never remains calm. It gives you the time to gather your senses, your resources before the upcoming storm.

And it comes.

It always does.

As those thoughts ran through me, it was as if someone had given me a megawatt shock. I physically jolted under the impact, and sat straight, looking at the mirror on the opposite wall.

The girl that stared back at me was not me. It was her eyes that set us apart. They were burning with anticipation, for an adrenaline drive that the consciousness behind them hadn't thought of dreaming before today.

I could see her lips twist up in a smile that I hadn't seen before. It was twisted, one sided, as if time did not want that smile to emerge yet, trying to hide a surprise and weighed down upon her folds, but she had figured it out, and her face acted on their own accord trying to express it's glee.

And gleeful I was, just thinking about the storm, the hurricane, the fucking torrent of disaster that awaited me. Because surely if my routine had dwindled to such a miserable state, there would be a change that would tear my world apart.

I rushed to the mirror and slammed my fist against the wall beside it.

The girl's tongue slipped out, wetting her lips.

"I can't wait for it," I told her.