The Other Raven

Tick-tick-tick!

“What’s that?” he questioned. Peering to the frozen window. Al sat forward from the corner of the fireplace room. He had been sunken into his own mind possibly for hours. The fire cracking and dwindling to his right. The glaring light from the flames licking most of the small office, illuminating the library, massive obsidian desk, and other modern installments. The shadows cast from the flames provided silent company for Al as he leaned back into his corner. He preferred to call it his numbing nook. He was nursing a rather deep stein of eggnog combined with enough liquid courage to sustain a small communion. 

Al’s mind was bombarded by the desire to pass through this evening with little effort in order to get “to tomorrow, good and forgotten”. If he was lucky enough he could catch the flames giving light to the perfectly wrapped box that sat upon the desk. The emerald and crimson ribbons provided a beautiful field for which the golden bow sat. The box could nestle in Al’s palm, he imagined. Those brief visuals preceded with long slurps from the stein. 

Tick-tick-tick!

“Oh! Stop with that!” Al shouted to the window, raising himself from his numbing platform. Al shuffled with little control to the window, slamming his right hand on the same side as he pressed his nose to the chilling glass. For a moment his eyes began to flutter shut and his face turned to rest into the frame. But only for a moment.

Tap-tap-tap!

Al jolted from the window, pivoted to his backside, sloshing the holiday joy from his stein, and shot his eyes to the door which led to the backyard of the home. 

Tap-tap-tap!

“Ah-ha! I hear you! You bastard! Whoever you are!” Al spoke out loud as if announcing to a banquet hall of subordinates, “disrupting my joyful Christmas Eve!” Al raised the stein, took a long slug of the drink, wiped away the escaped drops from his dark and handsome beard, and raced to the door with his best ability. “I don’t want nothing! You hear me? Leave it at the door. Go away. And don’t use the back gate. The front door is...well...in the front, you useless elf,” he chuckled like a school child at his insult while going for another sip. He staggered backwards, each step causing a small rumble through the floorboards under the pressure of his girth. He turned to find his corner only to swing his hips into the obsidian desk. There at his waist was the perfectly wrapped box. He felt soft and sad. 

TAP-TAP-TAP!

Echoing and louder than before came the rapping from the door. Al spun back, losing his balance, dropping the stein to the floor. His anger boiled. The sweat on his brow was gathering as he marched to the door. Al threw it open with as much gusto as his inebriated state could allow. But it was dark. As far as his eyes could see. Blackness with the soft foundation of the snow. 

“Show your guts, coward,” he shouted into the abyss, “show now, creep!” He could hear and see nothing as a response. Al tightened his lips and puffed his board chest, inhaled and bellowed out, “well Merry Christmas to you as well!” But his holiday message was laced in avarice. Al reached to the door knob, and pulled it back into the frame, shutting himself from the cold and back into the office. Al felt that the room had scaled down since his argument with nature only moments ago. He lumbered to the fallen stein, reached for a nearby sweater he had worn earlier in the day, and began to soak up the lost drink. He raised his head to place the stein on the desk only to be met directly with the box. The fire behind him gave the ribbons a shine akin to a holy grail. Then suddenly, in a flash of darkness, a long shadow fluttered over the box. Al heard the struggle of wind behind his ears. He turned to find the shocking sight upon the mantle above the fireplace.

Perched to the side of the Advent wreath was a large black raven. Its beak glistened above the light of the fire but its coat was endlessly dark. It sat still, hooking its feet into the wreath. The candle to the raven’s side was lit. Al did not remember lighting the candle. 

“My god how did you sneak in here! Get out of here! Off my mantle,” Al shot up to fling his arms at the raven. 

“Remain calm, you drunken fool,” came a soft voice from the raven. Al screamed aloud, fell back to desk, and trembled at the raven.

“Well, that would be an end to the eggnog for me this evening,” stated Al. He gulped, patted at his own chest and then burst into a relieving laugh. “Goodness. What a night. I guess you can hear anything if you’re willing to listen.” Al walked over to the door, opened it, turned to the raven and made his next attempt to remove it.

“I am going nowhere, Al. Now shut that door. It is freezing outside and we have work to do, you and I,” again the soft voice came from the raven. Whether it was the cold, or the copious amounts of eggnog, Al shut the door as he was told and simply held the bird in his eyes for a long moment.

“What exactly is happening here?”

“I’ve come to speak with you. Although I was hoping you would be in a better state, Al.”

“Oh, that’s what you had hoped, is it? Didn’t you hear? Fresh out of hope this year,” nervously Al chuckled. He shifted his position towards the desk. He found himself now looking up to the raven on the mantle. The candle flame flickering and giving life to the left eye of the bird. 

“Good so you’ve accepted our meeting,” the raven projected.

“Look, even if this is real I’ve had enough drink that I am willing to play along. But in all reality I’m sure I’ll awake soon in my numbing nook to find a filled stein buried into my chest,” he gestured to the corner with a grin. 

“I hope you truly do not believe this to be a dream, Al. I am very real. Even if you are trying to medicate it on your own.”

“Okay, so you want me to buy into this? Is that what you were hoping?”

“Yes. Please, Al, it will serve a fine purpose if you do.”

Al shook his head while trying to configure what exactly was happening in this moment. Finally he sighed aloud, shrugged his heavy shoulders, crossed hairy harms and conceded to the situation. “What else do I have going on this Christmas Eve? Perhaps it will pass the time. Tell me how you know my name, bird.”

“Raven. And I know it because you know it. You knew that. Don’t be daft. Refer to me by name for the remainder of our time. It is rude to not.”

“The raven has a name, goodness,” Al spoke to himself under his breath. Then he suddenly knew the raven’s name. He let out a stiff laugh, “Nevermore.”

“There it is. Now you’ve come to peace with the situation, yes?”

Al grumbled, “yes.”

With no notice Nevermore was now between the first and second candle in the wreath, the second candle was now burning bright. Nevermore’s eyes shone bright in the light. Al felt a calming in his chest. He was no longer tense from this moment of fantasy. He accepted the terms of this current reality and the fact that he would be spending Christmas Eve conversing with a bird. 

“Al, you won’t be just talking to me. I need you. I need you to care for me before I leave you.”

“Ah, so I cannot even have the sanity of my inner monologue?”

“Precisely, Al.”

“And how am I supposed to care for you? A bird. The last thing I am able to care for at this moment would be a bird.” A seemingly endless pause fell between Al and Nevermore. Al swallowed, rubbed at his eyes, his lips trembled. “Well don’t be coy now! You know damn well the circumstances of this evening,” he shouted at the mantle. Nevermore flapped in reaction. 

“Calm. Be at peace with it, Al.”

“That is your ghostly, Christmas advice? Be at peace? This has to be the worst Christmas moment of clarity that could have been constructed. Even for my imagination,” he scoffed, twiddling his fingers mockingly.

The noir raven squawked with a boom, like a knife slicing through a tapestry. Al snapped up straight. A surge of fright careened down his spine. The ceiling and walls began to close in on Al, he pressed up more to the desk, he anchored his heels into the beige rug that bridged to the fireplace. The fire grew tall, seeming to tower above his head now. Nevermore’s wings spread to either side, their length beginning to circle around Al’s shoulders. All of the gloriously horrifying shifts led to the raven’s beak pointed to Al’s mouth. Al shuddered in horror. He could not move his limbs. 

Al stammered, “wha-what are...what are you gonna do?”

“My friend, I am going to heal you,” Nevermore shrank back, the room returned to its normal dimensions. “But in order for that to happen you need to allow yourself to be healed.”

Al’s eyes watered up and he croaked out, “how?”

“What did you two do this evening in particular? Certainly not sitting around, drinking and filling your mind with self loathing.”

Al slid down on the desk until he sat, leaning into the obsidian. The flames felt warm on his feet. That warmth invaded his legs and worked up to his chest. His hands also felt the warmth in his lap. Now they felt burdened. He shifted his eyes down and he realized he now held the small gift box in his palms. He smiled.

“We gave each other our one gift on Christmas Eve. Saved the hassle of fitting it in the next day between visiting family. But you know that. Then we would sit in here. Watch the fire and look out to the snow. As a matter of fact we did have a few special eggnogs! But not with the...enthusiasm I was taking it in with this year. Then she would ask me to hum her a favorite Christmas hymn. Slowly she would slip into my arms and the morning would find us still in front of the low burning fire.” Al began to think long about the many Christmas Eve nights he spent with his love. He closed his eyes to stay in those moments for as long as he could. He only opened them when the soft slutter of wings caught his attention. Nevermore now sat between the second third candle which was burning. 

“That feels good, yes?” came from Nevermore. Al nodded. “Good. Now about the box.”

Al held the box in his hands and eyes. He sighed and looked back to Nevermore. The box was from the previous year. Al had kept it on the desk to tease her for the weeks leading up. She begged to shake the box for hints. He never allowed it. He also never knew where she hid the gift he was to receive one year before. 

“I had it in the back of the desk all year. It’s a small ruby pendant. A heart. I know it’s tacky but it felt like the right gift a year ago. I wanted to give her a heart. I wanted to give her my heart. But that wasn’t possible,” his voice trailed off as the tears began to travel down his cheeks. 

“How did she not already have your heart, Al?”

Al knew Nevermore was correct. “You're right! Thank you, bird. You can go now.”

“No. I cannot be released so easily. You’ve not taken care of me, yet.”

“Oh! Come now. I understand this moment. I get it. Let’s move on now. You may be released!”

“No. I still need something from you. She still needs something from.”

Al was growing in irritation as he spoke, “so this is now what it is all to be about then? Christ! Where has my mind gone? Why don’t you take my heart then? Would that be enough of a symbolic exchange to leave me to my evening?” Al opened the small box and without looking grabbed for the necklace. It was not there. He shot his eyes down. There was no heart. It was gone. Al became confused and flustered. In place of the heart was instead an embedded note. It was small and folded as many times as possible. Al pinched it between his fingers and lifted it softly out as if it were an ancient artifact. 

Al unfolded the note and was still for what seemed to be an eternity. His eyes brightened in the flames, his mouth widened and then pressed back frequently. He released his held breath often. He laughed softly at times. He faintly cried. He shut his eyes and pressed the note to his chest. Many more moments passed on. The only sound in the room was the crackling in the fireplace. The crackling was cut with a soft, coherent, and rhythmic humming. A popular hymn. And then the fluttering left the room. Al opened his eyes with care, still humming. Nevermore was gone. The fourth candle had been lit as well. 

Al stood from the floor and placed the note between the third and fourth candle. The note stayed upon the mantle evermore. 

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Joy. I love you.”