Funk-N-Fiction

Welcome to day four of our Halloween Flash Fiction blog event! Kicking off today is an incredible story from Tere Michaels that is a sneak peek into the future of her Love Broker Universe!

The Legend of the Raven
by Tere Michaels

In the beginning.

Once upon a time.

Humans created time to measure it, to add meaning and purpose to their lives. They cannot comprehend things with no beginning, no end, no rules. 

They can’t imagine existence without time.

It started as a game. That wasn’t the word for it; it just appeared one day, a thought in the shared consciousness. They didn’t know what boredom was–another human invention–they zipped around existence as clouds, solids, liquids, gasses. They banged into each other and turned into yet another thing. 

But now they decided on a game. 

Creation, it was called, a whisper some attributed to the red trail of energy that never seemed to be still. It wasn’t serious; the shared consciousness divided off into corners of existence. In one particular place, the competitors included the red energy.

There were rules.

Each got a piece to play with. 

On what would be earth, the path to humans started. 

Some of the entities grew anxious and dropped out of the game. They flew off to other places. 

Anxiousness was a new thing and they didn’t much like it.

In the end, the game was reduced to groups. Competition now raged between them. 

It got personal. 

That was also new.

How many prayed and worshipped in your name? Tallies changed over and over again.

Giving up now? Never.

In a place green and lush, with bright sparkling water and soaring mountains, an entity decided to break one of the rules–because rules without punishment are just suggestions. It appeared in the woods, a shaft of light unseen by the humans. 

It just wanted a peek.

They called it a village. The entity sat amongst them, observing, for so long–because what was time–the humans grew older. Some disappeared. It saw their energy rise to the sky, to join the rest, power absorbed by their makers. 

One day, it knew what they were called now, one of the humans stopped at the tree where it sat. None of them had ever come this close, had never tipped their heads and stared. 

“I see you,” it whispered and the entity shivered.

It should have left but curiosity–hmmm, new–kept it attached to the land, the people, and that man. Man. His hair was blacker than night and the others in the village, the women, paid attention to him. And it knew that because it was paying attention too.

When he left the village to hunt, the entity followed. It drifted through the trees, dipping and soaring to watch him silently creep through the woods until his well-placed arrow took down one of the horned animals who skittered from him. 

Leaving was impossible, the entity believed. It would stay until his life cycle ended, and his energy became part of it. 

The entity did not understand feelings and emotions, and it didn’t comprehend love. But its devotion to the man overruled any other whisper that came across its mind.

It ignored the reprimands. They claimed it had lost the game and would not be welcomed back.

It didn’t care.

On a cold day–known because he wore many pelts and furs over his skin–the man went again into the woods. He stopped, then looked up. The entity was directly overhead. A ripple of something went through it.

“I wish I could truly see you,” he whispered. 

The entity could not explain what happened next. Even as its own kind called it, it flew down.

He did not see it.

It read the sadness in his eyes. It felt it too. 

Creation with emotion happened that day. The entity felt its energy forming into something solid. It thought about soaring above. It thought about devotion. It thought about the man tramping through the forest alone.

He wouldn’t be alone anymore. 

It was quiet. The entity’s vision had changed. Narrowed. Its body fluttered. 

The man’s sadness turned confused.  

Then he smiled. 

“Beautiful,” he said, reaching out his hand. 

It fluttered its wings, landing on his arm–gently so its claws didn’t hurt him. But that wasn’t close enough. It hopped lightly to his shoulder, close to the face it so loved to see. 

The others in the village marveled at the creature, so tame, so devoted to the man. It stayed on his shoulder when he was awake, it sat next to him as he slept. It helped him locate prey. It kept a watchful eye on the man’s village. It felt this thing over and over–love and affection, devotion. The village now belonged to the entity. 

When some of its kind appeared, intrigued by its change and rebellion, and curious about being a part of the game, the entity felt something new.

Anger.

Fear. 

The newcomers crept closer to the village. The entity let out mighty sounds, to alert the man. 

But he didn’t see them.

Panic drove the entity now. It had to communicate with the man. It flew through the trees, over the lake, contemplating its choices. Perhaps it could make the man leave the village but that thought brushed away as quickly as it came. He would never leave. 

It landed where the others sat in wait. They marveled over its shape, its form, and substance. They wanted to know the secret, they wanted to join the game like it had. And if the entity helped, the village would be left alone. 

The entity tried to explain love and affection. It tried to tell them about the feeling of being a part of the village. But they didn’t understand. 

Finally, the entity knew what it had to do. It had to lead the others away from the village, which meant leaving the man. Oh, the pain–it didn’t like that. It hated it. 

It left one of its ink-black feathers beside the sleeping man, gazed one more time at his face, and then took off for the woods. 

The entity took the others away from the village, farther into the woods, promising to help them change. Further and further, where the trees blocked out the sun and darkness lived year-round. Finally, the others refused to go another step. They demanded their information. 

Filled with fear and anger, warring with its love for the man and his people, the entity felt itself begin to change again. The wings became arms, the feathers became black hair and eyes, the body grew huge. 

The entities were not afraid–they didn’t know that word. They didn’t zip away as the anger took over; they stood and watched. Waited.

When the emotions had receded, the entity would consider what happened then. Protection became destruction–but it knew there was no destruction possible. Their kind didn’t end, just as they hadn’t begun.

So, it became consumption. 

Absorbing its kind threw the entity into a state of blissful power. Like when the man and his village ate flesh and plants, it was filled with energy. 

The change back to the bird was much easier. As it traveled back to the village, it practiced. A deer, a hawk, a raccoon, a tiny bug. It had words for everything. It felt everything. When it reached its home, everyone was waking, eager for breakfast as they exited their homes. 

The man stood in the center of the village, anxiously scanning the sky.

They knew he was looking for them. 

The urge to return to it’s form flickered. 

It became the raven–that was its name–then changed into the wish of the man it loved. 

And oh that smile introduced a new feeling for the entity. Joy.

As the legend went, the brave warrior took a magical bride, both a raven, and a woman. The raven protected the village, keeping them safe from peril, even as people poured into the region, anxious to steal their land and lives. They moved deeper into the woods, to where the raven’s power was born. 

Generations of their children settled into the town at the edge of the lake. It was blessed by their protection, and the protection of their ancestors.