The Crow

For the past few nights I have been plagued with such bad dreams. Each morning, I wake up crying, and not even the beautiful fusillades of light that spill in from the window can sedate me. I am unable to remember what happens in these dreams; but certain images do present themselves to me. I can recollect a pair of lips – painted scarlet and containing all the truculent crenellations of a crushed raspberry. A black horse, blowing out great plumes of breath from its nostrils as it lays dying. A hand, reddened with blood.

I fear that these images are the souvenirs of the future, for my curse is that I must see those abhorred images of moments that have not yet come to pass. But O! How sad, how bereft of life things seem in my imagined dream-state! Why must I be beset with these images if there is nothing I can do to prevent them? Must I resign myself to merely knowing the future, but being forever unable to divert such a desolate future from becoming reality? I am unsure what to do. I have consulted the tarot, but each spread that I lay seems confused and empty. It is like looking into the face of a cracked mirror. I can see what is there, but everything is distorted by the broken glass, which cuts through every inch of flesh with such a jagged ferocity…

I have been invited to a party by the Lady Marie, but I fear that it is my presence which will call these visions into being. I have been a cartomancer for as long as I can remember, but I am unsure what is my best course of action to take, now.

Outside the moon sets, the rain comes down and it is like any other winter’s night, but look! Above, in the swirling black sky, see! A crow, that black-plumed harbinger of death roosts on the roof-tree!



One Response to “The Crow”

  1. I received it — the message you attached to Crenshaw’s talon, black ribbon with a touch of lunar shimmer. I heard of your troubling visions, although Crenshaw reassures me with affectionate nibble on my earlobe that the skies are still more free than the earth. However, I also am aware of the oppressing dream state that lingers in one’s lungs, choking life-blood and sucking will-power with unappeasable consumption.
    Therefore I am sending Crenshaw to aquaint himself with the Raven you speak of. My pet has come to love your abode, I do hope he leads me to it one day for i can only imagine your residence, with pearl inscriptions of revelations.
    I hope through Crenshaw we will discover more of the essence of the dreams you have been privileged and burdened with.

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