Quick Fiction| The Raven

Currents worked for the raven’s will, taking him up and high to where he always fancied to be. Black, as the night, it loomed over the field with ease and calm, knowing the chaos to come will be his serving hand.

Snow crossed his path, but no white could hide the darkness of that night, or the red that was to come: eager camps with flames rising high, waiting for their lives to last.

The raven was no spire illuminate, yet nature takes in the world’s lessons, and of men he had learnt that war meant a week of easy hunt. No effort, no fight, just the enjoyment of his flight.

Oh raven, dear raven, who arrows can’t catch. A night of hunger, for a feast worth of gods.

The sun rose out, and the screams broke the sky. Oh raven, oh raven, dinner came at last.

Might become a thing, quick stories here and there. Extracts of stuff. Feels like a fun collection to pass time! No genre, no bounds, just writing what comes. Cheers! — Nico