Date: Wed, 9 Oct 1996 15:29:14 MDT From: Robyn Meta Herrington Subject: SUB:CONTEST: Bird Bird Rain pellets pounded at my dorm window with all the fury of hell and woke me from an uneasy sleep. I gazed around the stark room groggily and realized I had fallen asleep on my books again. It was well past midnight and I grimaces at the thick textbooks in contempt. The works of Plato, Aristotle, and other Greek intellectuals lay stewn about the desk in pre-exam disarray. The final was only twelve hours away and I had no clue what these people wrote thousands of years before my birth. I really didn't care at this hour, either. Lightning streaked down through the sky, lighting up my window and I snapped awake again. In the quiet between rumbles of thunder, I became aware of a faint ticking. The noise grew in increments into a persistent knock. Tap, tap, tap . . . tap, tap, tap. "Who the hell is knocking at my door?" I muttered. Deliriously tired, I remembered Steve knocking on my door. He would sweep into the room and save me from my books. I buried my self in them now, banishing his name from heart and mind and lips. I wished for dawn. I could forget him then, surrounded by people and light. I'd have given my life for him to be knocking at my door again . . . . . . But I knew that was impossible. Goosepimples dotted my skin, as I contemplated who could be out there now in the wee hours of the morning. My shoulders rose with tension, and my beat out a jittery march. "Who the hell could it be?" I muttered again, trying to sound calm and tough. I stood as still as I could listening to the repeated knocking, not sure what to try. I shivered convulsively, remembering stories of college women being raped and murdered in their dorm rooms late at night. Burglaries had been common as of late. No telling who might be on the other side of the door. Terror consumed me, but I had no other option. I decided to speak, knowing that help was only a quick yell away. I grabbed my mace key chain and stood defensively in front of the door. I gathered myself and addressed the closed door, "Whoever you are, I'm sorry, but I only now just heard you knocking. See, I fell asleep on my books and . . ." I opened the door wide. The hall was empty. Shaking involuntarily, I craned my head around the corners, looking up and down the hall, but there wasn't a sign of anyone anywhere. No one could have run away that quickly. My door was far from both of the exits on the floor. "Steve?" my voice quavered with the word. "Steve," repeated the echo. Silence consumed the hall. Muttering about stupid frat pranks, I closed my door and locked it with trembling fingers. I turned back into the room and stopped dead. Something was still knocking. The sound had grown louder since I went into the hall. I barely breathed, trying to pinpoint the source. I closed my eyes and focused. My eyes popped open. "It's coming from the damned window!" I went to my small window and slid the beligerent little pane of glass to one side. I stuck my head out through the screenless opening and looked for an errant tree branch banged against the window. Suddenly a blur of black careered towards my head, knocking me over backwards. I flailed my arms wildly for protection, but the creature had already entered. I searched for it, grabbing a stiletto high-heel in the process. Mace and shoe in hand I scanned the room. There on the top shelf of my bookcase, elegantly perched on an Athens travel guide, sat a silky black bird with penetrating eyes. The bird fluttered its wings once and settled itself on the book. It stared at me with open contempt. I looked at the bird in disgust, trying to figure out how I was going to get it out of the room. It looked like a crow to me, but I wasn't an orinthologist by any means. It was bigger and sleeker than any crow I'd seen, and it certainly looked sinister. It looked downright evil. I shivered under it's gaze. "Great, now I have a pet bird. Just what I always wanted," I grumbled. Quite plainly the bird said, "Nevermore." Startled by the sound, I jumped back and knocked my books onto the floor. I must have been studying too long, I thought. Now, I have a talking pet bird named Nevermore. Wonderful. I looked at the crow expectantly, but it didn't say anything further. It sat still like a statue, glaring at me with cold black eyes. Annoyed by his lack of conversation, I sat down on my bed and muttered, "You'll leave, too, if I go to sleep and forget you. Tomorrow you'll be gone and I'll get on with my life." "Nevermore." Once more, I jumped up at the strong echo of the bird's voice. "Oh, I get it now," I said triumphantly. "He's one of those cool talking birds that you have to train. He must have had an owner that threw him out saying he'd nevermore have a bird in his house. I couldn't agree more at this point." I chuckled at the swath of black near the ceiling. Late as it was, I couldn't study anymore and the excitement of my talkative friend's arrival kept me from sleep. I pulled my beanbag in front of the bird and sank down lazily into it. Staring up at the little demon, I wondered why in the heck this bird would knock on my window late at night to tell me nevermore. I sat watching him, saying nothing, but thinking of what this bird might mean. What Freudian implication might the word "nevermore" have? Maybe it was the answer to a question on tomorrow's test. This little dude could be a guardian angel assigned the duty to help me graduate. Poor guy! That notion quickly disappeared because the bird's look was anything but benificent. My head leaned back into the beanbag and my mind drifted to Steve. I remembered him holding me here in his arms. I could almost feel the warmth of him and my eyes filled up with tears. Steve would never do that again. Aha, there's a nevermore! I cried, burying my nose in the plastic of the beanbag and I could smell him again. It lingered in my nose and the illusion became more real. I wept bitterly. "God, please, can I ever be free of this pain? Will the memories ever leave me?" The bird intoned, "Nevermore." "Listen, Bird," I shrieked. "Whether you were sent here or just decided to torture me tonight, tell me something useful: will my wounds ever heal? Tell me, I beg you!" "Nevermore." "No? Well then, will I ever hold my beloved Steven in my arms again?" The bird's voice rang, "Nevermore." "That's it, damn it! Get the hell out of my room! How could you lie to me like that! Leave me and leave no reminder of yourself. Get out of here or I'll smash you with my shoe!" "Nevermore." And the raven still sits atop my bookcase, glaring at me with a practiced hatred. His small body casts a forboding shadow on the floor and my soul is caught in that cage. "My soul from out that shadow shall be lifted nevermore." * Taken quite judiciously from Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven". They say imitation is the highest from of flattery. :) ===================================================== -- -------+++++++-------+++++++ +++++++-------+++++++------- Robyn Herrington Operations Manager, Microforms Services University of Calgary, MacKimmie Library Ph: (403)220-6903 http://www.ucalgary.ca/~rmherrin rmherrin@acs.ucalgary.ca -------+++++++-------+++++++--------------+++++++-------+++++++-------