Through The Eyes of a Raven

He knew his body was dying. He could feel death vibrating through him like the strings of a harp as he lay on the cold cement. He couldn't hear the chaos around him, still in shock, but he could see it; smoking buildings and debris and frantic feet running aimlessly in the distance. But there was nowhere to hide.

Matthew had been one out of five people taken days before the sky had opened up. He never believed in abduction until he found himself locked up inside a cold rusted cage, treated like an animal. The cage was small, his back cramped, and all five prisoners were crammed into it. He hadn't seen anything except the dark room they were kept in. The walls seemed to pulse with the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. There was a strange damp smell and the air was hot and stale. Matthew closed his eyes to try and block out the sobs of his other cage-mates and forced himself to sink into his memories.

Sunlight shone against his eyelids as he remembered a summer day and could almost see it in his cage. Pleasant goosebumps rose over his skin as warm rays wrapped around him like a blanket. Sophie's laugh had echoed around him as she chased colorful butterflies, squealing in delight when she had managed to coax one onto her finger. She had just turned seven in the Spring. His memories brought him to Samantha, tucking a lock of golden hair behind her ear as the wind rustled through, watching him as he had spread out a dark blue blanket beneath a tree. It was both painful and soothing to think of her and all the little things he had taken for granted. He remembered the feel of her skin, soft and smooth, as their fingers would lace together. They had made it a habit to picnic once a month during the summer and Sophie had been ecstatic. She chased butterflies and picked flowers as he and Samantha sat back, watching the clear blue sky. Sometimes, if they were lucky, they would spot a raven soaring overhead. They were Samantha's favorite. He had thought the love of them came from her great grandmother, they had been her favorite also. Samantha had never met her great grandmother, she had died while her mother was pregnant, but somehow felt closer to her by that single black bird. They made her smile, that warm tiny smile that told him Samantha was thinking about her. But that time had come and gone and all he had left was the escape of his memories.

Matthew was only able to keep his eyes closed for so long, the sobs next to him a distraction. His cage-mates had all screamed for hours, shouting out names he assumed were loved ones, maybe to see if they were hidden away somewhere in the dark corners of the room. He knew it would do no good and so had remained silent. There was no one to hear them. Instead, he sat against the bars of their cage and lingered in the back of his own mind, watching his memories like an old film reel. Having remembered Samantha's dazzling smile brought one to his own face in his dank prison. From the moment they met, when he had accidentally dumped coffee all over her skirt and she had graciously accepted his clumsily repeated apologies with a giggle, he knew he had to marry her one day. Of all the things that drew him to her, it had been her voice the most. Samantha had so many different tones, each for different things, and Matthew knew each one. His favorite had been confusion. She would quirk her left brow ever so slightly and her voice became soft with a questioning infliction. He had tried to count how many tones she had once, but it had only irritated her when he kept counting as she talked. He had liked that one also, but he kept that to himself.

Samantha had cried when he finally asked her to marry him. He hadn't been able to promise her a lavish life but that had been ok with her. And then after a year of trying, she had finally told him she was pregnant.

"Matthew," she had said, her soft voice lilting the way it did when she had something special to tell him. "I have a gift."

He had set his book aside as she helped herself to his lap, straddling his thighs as her golden braid draped over her shoulder. She had bit her lip, a nervous habit, though smiled through her teeth. Delicate fingers held out a white stick, a pink ribbon wrapped around the top. At first Matthew had thought it was a strange thermometer, but then he saw what it was and he gripped her hips tightly, hopeful eyes looking up into her own.