Dr. L Carter

ilmopsuf

I lost my old page so uhh fuck
hi im lora carter and welcome to heck

The Ravens, The Crows.

Now, if you didn't know, members of the corvid family carry the souls of the dead upon their backs. This is a far easier way of getting to your chosen paradise than by walking… or floating, as it were.
I only knew of this from my grandmother who spoke of it often. A crow had perched upon her window-sill when she passed. I thought a quaint coincidence.

I never thought of spirits or suchlike as reality; I thought trees without thoughts. I thought when one person passed, they were gone and nothing continued on after.

I know better now, but at the time I came to learn the truth, I was gripped by scientific curiosity.

I had heard wisps of a whisper, and a glimpse of a face from a raven who passed my way. I was truly intrigued by the sound of a man's voice coming from a bird. So I followed the raven, near-aimless in my sudden urge to do so.

It hopped and glided along the ground, acting like a normal city-raven. It did avoid me far ahead, as one such creature does when pursued by a slow-moving pedestrian.

This bird I followed took me through alleyways between buildings, each empty save for a stray rat or pigeon. It took me through winding corridors of trees far beyond the walls of civilization, green and full of dappled sunlight. Eventually, it flew across a river with no bridge in sight. I was glad the summer was hot when I crossed after the bird, who waited patiently on the other side.

I followed it, still gripped my the deadly curiosity that held me. This was even after the ages it seemed to have taken to get this far. The sun began dropping beneath the horizon and my soaked bones felt the chill of some unheard breeze. It followed me despite my stepping into dappled spots of fading sunlight in feeble attempts to dry off or even chase it away for a second. During each attempt, the bird waited ever so patiently for me, several meters ahead.

Eventually, in the growing darkness, I felt as though the trees above me had eyes, boring into my skull. Perhaps it was the lengthening shadows, but knot-holes and the curling of bark formed faces, moaning in pain or crying out in horror.

There was not a leaf on a single one of them; It was if it was fall here, the leaf-litter under my feet crisp and dry and a deep red-brown. Each branch seemed like a sickly limb, grasping at the almost-gone sun behind me, and at my shivering form.

I continued on, despite the growing thought to turn back home before night fell and I lost my way completely. Along with my sense of unease from the forest around me.

We came upon a black river by the time the sun vanished from the sky, and I finally gave in to the thought of turning back, for I wished not to go through another freezing river in the darkness.

I turned a quarter-ways but stopped. The raven had hopped along in front of me onto an old but well-kept dock, and perched on a pole which held a lit lantern. The light within was casting a warm glow onto the water beneath it.

It watched me as I contemplated this strange place for a moment, and as a fog set in.

Then came the man in the boat. He was dressed in robes, head to toe, and I could not see his face. I saw only two pale hands which held the stick he piloted his craft with- a gondola. A lantern hung on either end, cutting subtly through the thick blanket that was suffocating the banks of the river.

I approached, walking across the old planks of the dock, disturbing the eerie stillness of the water beneath.

In front of me, the raven jumped onto the gondola seats.

Then the boatman held one hand out to me.

"Are you with the raven?" he inquired, in a voice that sent a shiver up my still-soaked spine.

"I-I am with the raven!" I said, hoping he wouldn't demand coins from me; I had none.

"Very well, you must follow it to the end of the journey," He said, solemnly, and I took his hand.

It was cold, and clammy, but he helped me into the boat. I sat beside the raven, who had settled in place, puffed up and round against the cold. Looking at it, I regretted going through the river before. I hadn't dried at all, and it felt as though my wet clothes were freezing stiff to me.

But the thoughts of regret faded quickly as I watched the haunting beauty of the river, trance-like. Both sides of it were obscured by fog, only letting vague shapes come through. On the side of the river we approached lay the barest hints of lights helplessly fighting back the milky air around them.

The short ride ended when we met with another dock, near-identical to the one we had departed from. It was, though, at the end of a path lit with lanterns, leading off into the woods beyond. The lights I had seen shortly before.

I bid farewell to the boatman, and followed the raven carefully as it glided from lantern-post to lantern-post.

I wondered what time it was; I had neither lunch nor dinner, but my stomach did not beg me to feed it. but I took no notice of the lack of hunger on my part yet. As I was enraptured, trance-like, with following this charcoal-colored bird.

At the end of this path we walked was an iron gate, flanked by lanterns lit in a similar manner to the ones behind us. It hung open slightly, and I saw beyond. Contained in its grounds was a lovely estate, tall, elegant, and richly decorated without being oppressively so.

Now my stomach growled, and was reminded of my humanity. I hoped that the owner of this place would be kind to a stranger arriving at such a time and lend me help. At least a meal and directions back to my home, if not fare for a cab.

The raven was before me as I passed through the unlocked gate. It perched on the porch-step and watched as I knocked on the door. Lights inside were lit, so when the door opened at my touch, I called out to those inside, startled.

"Hello?" I called, looking in upon the lavish beauty of the place.

A grand staircase curled away from the center of the foyer, deep-red carpet down the middle of each. A chandelier, of impressive make and glittering crystal, hung from the center of the vaulted ceiling. Rich oak panels lined the walls and warmth flooded out from the threshold, heating my bones.

As I gawked at the sight, the raven flew past me. I grabbed for it, not wanting to be the reason there was a bird in this person's home. But it was too quick for me, and as someone descended the stairs before me, it flew to land upon their shoulder.

Upon seeing this person, who the house belonged to, I fell to my knees and wept. I knew now where I was, whose home I had arrived on the door-step of. It was the lady of death herself, skull-mask on her face, hair done in elegant roping braids. A cloak about her shoulders, dress fluidly trailing across the stairs behind her. She was coming to greet me.

I couldn't speak a word, but she offered me rest, and a job.

I had no way to refuse her, and thought I saw her face beneath the mask smiled as I inquired after the job offered to me.

From beneath the cloak she wore, she produced two items;
A black cloth the color of the night, and a scythe so sharp it sung if it so much as moved.

I accepted the job from her, and she gave to me my new title.

The 'grim' Reaper.