A Raven and a Writing Itch
After struggling through another chapter of editing on Fire Prince, I needed a break. I am missing the free flow of creating that first draft. So I have allowed myself some time with a blank document and a head full of ideas. As usual, I have no idea where this story is going or even what genre it will be.
The working title is, for lack of a better idea of what it is about, Raven.
It was not much of a place and even Raven could not make himself call it home. He had spent the last few months in it and his lack of household skills was starting to show. Piles of take away cartons were stashed in one corner of the open kitchen, some still littered the salon table. He had to get up to switch on the television because somewhere in the collection of garbage, the remote control had gone missing.
Raven had created stories in his head of how they would some day break down his door and find his remains among a fine collection of all the local take away trash. But somehow, after nearly three months of fighting despair, anguish and sheer apathy, he had found a spark of determination within him to survive. He had fanned it carefully and fed it small bits of hope and light.
That morning he had gone out to buy some toiletries and an electric razor. After taking one glance at the cheap manual razor blades, he had decided he could not yet be trusted with one. The trimmer that came attached to the electric one had already tickled his imagination into a nice little horror short story.
He showered, washed, brushed and shaved. Then he stared into the mirror, trying to recognise the man that stared back at him. His hair, black like his name, could do with a trimming. His eyes, still sunken but with the dark circles under them fading, had collected a few more lines at the corners. His skin tone, a greyish pale, could use a bit of sun and probably a healthier diet. Not beyond saving, was his conclusion after thorough assessment.
He looked around but could not extend his optimistic conclusion towards the one bedroom apartment. He decided to give up on it. Rummaging through it, he finally retrieved the backpack that had been the only luggage he had brought with him three months ago. He stuffed the last of his cash in it and checked for the hidden pocket that still held some plastic cards. He decided against taking any of the unwashed clothes that were strewn across the bedroom. A clean start needed clean clothes.
Raven pulled the door behind him, not bothering to lock the apartment. He was not coming back. He shielded his eyes to the midday sun and made it his first act as a reborn man to buy some decent shades. His subsequent shopping spree lasted until he was down to his last 50 euros. With it, he bought the first decent meal he had in months. It came with a vegetable side dish. Lingering over his dessert, he unpacked the prepaid mobile phone from its shiny casing. It was a decent phone and had cost him more than he should have squandered on it but at least it came partially charged. Taking another mouthful of delicious chocolate cake, he brushed away the last of his doubts and started to dial a number.