STORY: The Raven Follows

A piece of wood jabbed the middle of my back, but I didn’t shift. I took shallow breaths so the raven wouldn’t notice where I’d gone. As it passed over the trees, I lost sight of it for just a moment and, seeing this entryway, took cover. But my bright red coat would doubtless catch its eye again.
Why does it follow me? What doom could be impending? I noticed him first this morning as I looked out my bedroom window and he stared into my eyes – from the branch of a tree fifty feet away – and seemed to smirk at me. Assuming it was a trick of the morning light, I moved on. After slipping in the shower and bumping my head, accidentally shaving off half my goatee, and jabbing my toothbrush too hard and cutting the inside of my mouth, I went downstairs, where I burned my toast and dropped my eggs on the floor. Un-satiated, running late, I rushed out the door – without my keys – and, running down the street to catch the bus to class, I saw again, in the reflection of a puddle, the raven.
On the bus, my eyes ticked and tocked between my exam notes and the raven, flying alongside my window. When the bus took two turns in quick succession, the raven quickly followed.
“Wooh, that sure doesn’t look good,” said the girl sitting in front of me.
I said nothing, but re-read the same equation a third time.
“That raven is giving me the creeps,” she said, louder.
“What? It’s just an ugly bird.”
“Au contraire,” she said, turning around to face me, gaining height by sitting on her knees. “The raven is the harbinger of death, the messenger of bad tidings, the carrier of disease. But I don’t suppose they’d mention that in your –“ She looked down at my notes “- Chemistry classes.”
“Sure, no, yeah this is chemistry,” I said, looking back down at my notes, anxious to pass my upcoming exam.
When finally the bus reached my stop, I stood up and noticed that the girl had risen too. I pulled my backpack over my shoulder, lowered my head and walked briskly. But the girl kept up easily, despite her long skirt and high heels.
“It’s still there, you know?” she said. When I did not respond, she continued. “The raven. It’s still following you.”
I stopped. “How do you know it’s following me?”
“I watched you run down the street to catch the bus. It was following you the whole time,” she said. “Well, good luck on your test. I’m sure the raven isn’t warning you that you’re going to fail or anything, so don’t even think that.”
“But I wasn’t thinking that!” I yelled after her. “Wait a minute.” I followed her path, thinking she needed to apologize for psyching me out right before my exam, and looked around, but couldn’t see her. She couldn’t have gotten very far, I thought, and finally caught a glimpse of her skirt and the heel of her shoe as she stepped into the theater building.
Of course, I thought, a theater student. That explained the long multi-color skirt and long black v-neck sweater with the big buckled belt around her waist and green scarf around her neck. And it certainly explained why she believed that craziness about the raven.
I took a deep breath, and then walked into the Chemistry building, not even checking to see where the raven might be.
After my exam, I walked out of the building and wondered whether my roommate would be ready to go to the bar.
“Hey! Raven-boy! Did the bell toll?”
I heard the voice and turned to see theater girl sitting on the half wall around the corner. She jumped off the wall and walked to me.
“Aren’t you mixing literary references or something?” I asked.
“Impressive. A scientist who knows literature,” she said.
“I’m not a scientist. At least, not after that test I’m not,” I said as we walked together to the bus stop. We walked to the student union in silence, got some food, then sat down and started eating. I looked around at all the familiar faces looking at me in disbelief. This was, after all, the first time they had seen me with another person, let alone a girl.
“So has anything bad happened to you today?” she asked.
“Besides tanking the exam?” I said.
“You still haven’t figured out how to get rid of the raven, have you?”
“It’s not following me.”
She looked at me, then turned and pointed out the window, where the raven was perched, staring inside. I had to admit that was kind of freaky. We sat and ate silently for a few minutes, and I kept glancing sideways out the window, where the raven remained.
“Okay, fine. It’s creepy. What do you propose I do?” I asked.
She laughed.
“What? What’s so funny?” I asked.
“You can’t do anything. The raven will follow you until the bad thing that’s meant to happen to you happens,” she said, slurping her drink.
I tried to decide if I really believed all this craziness. I don’t believe in superstition. It’s ridiculous.
“Wait a minute. So failing my chem. Exam wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me today? It gets worse?” My pizza had suddenly lost all appeal. “Great. What a Friday.”
“C’mon. You really think in the grand scheme of things that how you did on one little exam will be important enough for the messenger of death? Do you know how many ravens would be flying around this campus if they foretold academic failures?”
“Woah, woah, woah. Death?! Messenger of death? You never said anything about that before. You’re telling me I’m about to die. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re some angel of death or something?” I look around. “Can anyone else see you? Are you just some illusion? Are you even real?”
A piece of sausage caught in my throat and I coughed. Great. “It’s happening now, isn’t it? I’m about to choke on this pizza and die, aren’t I? Oh, God.”
She held out a napkin. “Just cough it out. Here, take the napkin. If I were some angel of death, would I be able to hand you a napkin? Here, touch my hand. I’m real. You scientists need proof, right?”
But I noticed she wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t laughing. I had hit on something. “I am going to die. You haven’t exactly denied it, have you?”
“I’m a theater major, not a psychic. I don’t know if you’re going to die or not. But I can tell you that I am real, that I am not an angel of death, and you are not going to choke on your pizza and die.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked between coughs. I was feeling faint and short of breath.
“For one thing, you’re talking. You’re not choking if you’re talking. And second, I know CPR. Now take some deep breaths, drink your Coke, and settle down. You look like an idiot.” She blew me a kiss.
I blushed and looked down at my pizza. Damn, she sure was cute, and I smiled, but since I was looking down, I didn’t think she saw me.
As we talked, my eyes widened, and I looked at the girl – still not knowing her name, but feeling like we now knew each other too well for me to just ask.
She had gathered all our junk onto the tray and took a step toward me. As she stood at the garbage can, she said, “Hey, let’s go to your place.”
I paused, processing her words. Did she really just say what I thought she said?
“Well,” she said, “grab your backpack. Let’s go.”
I watched her take a few steps before grabbing my backpack and rushing to catch up.
Once outside, I noticed the raven again.
When I caught up to her, I remembered. “Oh, um, we can’t. I locked myself out.”
She giggled. “Wouldn’t it be funny if your place burned down, but you were saved because you forgot your keys?” She turned, taking hold of both my hands. “I mean, what if something you normally would consider to be the worst thing to happen – would turn out to save your life?”
As she spoke, she waved her hands around, and, since she was still holding my hands, waved my hands around. My backpack slipped off my shoulder and I had to – reluctantly – let go of her hands to fix it.
When she reached the bus stop, she stopped.
“Now you need to lead. I’ve never been to your place before, you know.”
“I thought you watched me run down the street to catch the bus,” I said.
“I know your place is that way,” she pointed down the street, “but I didn’t watch you come out of your place.”
As we walked, I tried to figure out a way to find out her name before we reached my place. She slipped her hand into mine.
“Do you want to go out with me tonight?” I asked.
“On one condition,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“Will you just ask me what my name is, already?”
I stammered. “I was. I mean I, I, what.”
She faced me and put her index finger on my mouth. Then she dropped her hand to her sides.
I took a deep breath. “Hi, I’m Dave. And you are?”
“Nice to meet you, Dave. My name’s Raven.”
Silence. The raven cawed above. A car drove by. Theater girl, umm, Raven, stood staring at me with wide, expectant eyes, not laughing, not smiling, just waiting.
“Look, I have to go right now,” she said suddenly. “Why don’t I meet you later?”
“Umm, yeah. Okay. See you then,” I said, confused.
Before she left, she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

I heard a caw and looked up. On a tree across the street sat the raven, waiting for something, seemingly watching me. I’m acting paranoid, I thought. A messenger of death? Bull. But still, it was kind of strange. I was about two blocks from my apartment, and just in case it didn’t know where I lived, I didn’t want it to find me. I decided to try to lose the bird.

So that’s how I found myself hiding in a doorway with a piece of wood jabbing into my back. Standing there, raven still out of sight, I let my backpack slip to the ground and I slid off my bright red jacket. I jammed it into my backpack and continued. I stayed near the houses, getting into the adventure. I felt like a spy or mercenary, crouching under windows and standing with my back against the wall, peeking around corners. Getting home without being followed by this bird became a game, a mission, and I got back to the apartment invigorated. Messenger of death, my ass. What could the raven do to me anyhow? I haven’t heard of any deaths on campus by ravens soaring down and stabbing students with their beaks. I had nothing to be afraid of. I mean, I may have to retake Organic Chemistry this summer, but if I have just escaped death, then does it really matter?
I got to my apartment and checked the door. It was locked. I sat on the steps on the side of the house.
A messenger of death, I realized, is not the same as the cause of death. She never said the raven would kill me; just that it followed me around because I was about to die. Man, that sucks. I wonder. Would it come closer when I’m doing something more likely to kill me, and distance itself when I’m relatively safe? Could I use this to my advantage? And if it comes and perches itself on my shoulder, then is that a good time for me to say goodbye and accept my impending doom?
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to have wasted my last living days studying for and taking a sucky O. chem exam. If I die the week after finals, after partying and getting drunk every night and eating pizza for breakfast and hanging out with my friends until it’s time to go home for break, fine. That would be a way to go. But stuck in the library for days on end, taking breaks by having pizza with study groups. And why didn’t that do any good? Why did I still completely blank out? Damn.
I heard a jingle, a newly familiar jingle, and looked around to find its source. Walking up the sidewalk next door, wearing her keychain on her hip, was theater girl – umm, Raven.
As I watched her pull out the keychain and approach the door, I finally realized what an idiot I had been – and how incredibly hot she was.
I jogged to her, calling her and getting her to stop before she got to the door.
“So what’s its name?” I said.
“Who’s name?” she asked.
“Who do you think?”
“The raven’s?”
“Yeah. What’s its name?”
After a pause, she said, “Nate. Or Kate, I don’t know which. It responds to either one.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? It’s your pet, isn’t it?” I wasn’t sure yet if I was angry or amused, and decided I would keep talking and asking questions until I figured it out.
“No, actually, it’s not my pet. It’s more like an experiment.”
“What do you mean?”
“I grew up with dogs, so I know a thing or two about training animals. And then in my psych class last semester we were talking about classical conditioning, so as part of an assignment, I decided to try to train the bird to follow me around.”
“So it’s not your pet?” I asked.
“No. I’ve conditioned it to follow me around when I’ve got these granola bars with me, but that’s it. Usually it just wanders around. I summon it by leaving a granola bar outside my bedroom window the night before.”
I started walking, and she accompanied me.
“So why would you summon it?”
“So you want to hang out at my place?” she asked.
“You live next door to me?”
She smiled, then grabbed my hand and led me inside.
“I lied,” she said when we got inside and sat down with two glasses of ice water.
“No kidding,” I said, trying to get comfortable leaning against the beaded blanket covering her couch.
She took off her shoes and rested her feet on my lap, which made her skirt slide up to her knees. After drinking some water and setting the glass on the red, yellow, and purple mosaic coffee table, I absently set my hand on her shins and enjoyed the smoothness of her legs.
“So what did you lie about?” I asked. “Besides saying you don’t know where I live.”
“The bird hasn’t been following you all day. I’ve just been making you think it has so I can see your reaction,” she said.
“Why would you do that?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” She smiled.
“Oh, c’mon,” I said, sliding my hand up to her knee. She didn’t stop me.
“I’m writing a play. It’ll be performed at the end of the semester.”
“So what’s this play about?”
“About people’s superstitions. I’ve been doing this experiment all semester, where I get people to think they’re being followed. And then I hang out with them and see how they react.”
“So I’ve just been some psych experiment?” I asked, suddenly feeling every bead press into my back and legs.
“No, not exactly. I just thought I’d finally get to meet you,” she said, sliding up next to me.
I leaned forward, resting my chin on my fists. I felt like such an idiot. Here she was, using me as an experiment, as material for a play, while I kept thinking about how cool she was, and how hot, and how we could just talk and talk for hours. I sighed.
Suddenly, she pushed me back, threw her leg over me, and straddled me. She looked me in the eyes and laughed.
“You’re pretty dense, aren’t you? Apparently, I do have to throw myself at you for you to get the message.” She leaned in and kissed me.
As I kissed her back, I made the realization that in the end, the raven was foreboding death – the death of my loneliness.