IMPORTANT NOTE: As I mentioned in my summary I am experimenting with style. As such, not everything is always linearly in order. Please read carefully. Also, This is ONLY THE FIRST CHAPTER. I have a few more chapters planned out, if people like the beginning of this story enough I will write the others. Also, I credit the influence of this title and style to The Sound And The Fury, by William Faulkner
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I could hear the roof.
It pounded and pounded in downpour. United in its festering malignant determination to break through the roof. But even it failed to cut through the cold concrete walls that lined my prison. I tried to move my body but it couldn't, a constant clanging interrupted it. Instead I awkwardly extended my neck out and could glance at the sole window taunting me from the rood. Twilight was settling in, casting slant shadows across the nearby buildings. I watched a car pull out of the nearby lot, the dark figures tracing its body and it was gone. My hope diminished as I struggled to see through the pounding sky that there was only blackness.
Black of course, that's always how I take it. Steam teased cheeks and lips as it rose lustfully from the confines of its mug. I smiled and pleasantly crossed my legs, but I frowned slightly as I felt a tug at my legs from the confines of my jeans. I was wearing tight black jeans and a plane snug gray tee shirt. My leotard and titan outfit was more comfortable and much more flexible than these clothes – especially important for all the times needed to go and kick the bad-guy-of-the-week's ass. But it also attracts a lot of attention, I don't like to stand out. So I suffer in my unhappy normal clothes. I hope the mundane color choice drains as much enthusiasm out of it as possible. The only things left that really stood out was my unusual purple hair color and the chalky grey appearance of my skin. But at least now I appear to be a normal weirdo instead of one with scary fucking superpowers.
I looked out the window again. Emily had once said there is a certain slant of light,
When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –
I turned my attention away from the dreariness of cold afternoon and back towards the warm atmosphere of the coffee house. I knew it was going to be a long night. Would I even make it till morning? Can't…move….. It was well lit and warm, and much less depressing as outside – but still irritating. The sleek wooden walls were lined with signed pictures of famous faces enjoying a fine cup of Jason Compson's famous coffee. Celebrities that somehow were friends of the owner Mr. Compson, I would presume. The too cheerful smiles and feigned happiness was unsettling. The parts of the shop that weren't covered with uncanny pictures weren't much for eye candy either. The remaining empty space was covered with cheap stock paintings that kept the walls busy.
Wrapping my hands against the warmth of my coffee cup I decided to play my favorite game of watching the crowd. Mostly it consisted of staccato bohemian youths and middle age wash ups. Lost souls that couldn't quite put together the brick and mortar of their lives. Instead they festered in its remaining despondent gluey mess. And with the deconstruction of their foundations came the disrepair of their emotions. It was sad a sight really, on those quiet nights the titans didn't need me I would be here past midnight sometimes. At that hour really it was only the ones that had hit rock bottom remained, they often would cry into their coffee. That's why I meditate, to keep my emotions from reaching such a pathetic public state of despair.
Meditating could that work? I adjusted my shackles. They rang hard against the cold clammy floor. Their screams echoing through the empty concrete space. The shackles blocked my powers but with enough concentration maybe I could break through their control. I crossed my legs, closed my eyes, and breathed deeply. Azarth Metroin Zinthos, Azarth Metroin Zinthos, Azarth Metroin Zinthos. I opened my eyes. Nothing.
But then I spotted something different from across the room. Among the despondent souls their was someone who stood out… someone different….
"Why do you go there? Why do you go there?" he repeated. "Dude, its depressing. All its filled is with those weirdo sad people. You got us, we're your family."
I turned to face Beast Boy. Unexpected rage burst from within me.
"You don't understand them, you don't understand me. Maybe your happy in your glossy world of video games and comic books. You feel high and mighty saving the world. When I'm in there I see the people that are far beyond saving. The reminder of their pain, it keeps me human." I snarled.
I turned away and slammed He wore a grey zoot suit. He seemed straight out of the 1940s. His sleek black hair was gelled back and the whole was completed with a grey hat and shiny dark loafers. On anyone else the outfit would of looked completely ridiculous. But on him it seemed fitting. His body filled it out well and gave him an overall appearance of someone on a mission.
For a while I watched him. He ordered an espresso and took his hat off with his free hand as he drank. What made him an oddity among misfits was not just his out of century outfit and confident attitude, but his age. He looked older then me but not by much. A year or two at most. He finished his drink two sips later and returned the cup. But instead of turning to leave he raised his eyes to mine. They were mesmerizing, cool and crisp like honeydew and were electric blue. His eyes shocked me— like he knew I had been watching him.
But instead of turning away I matched his stony gaze. He approached me and before I could do anything his approached me. Looking down at me he smoothly said, "Good evening." I turned my head and looked out the shop's windows again. The parking lot has been overwhelmed by an engulfing blackness. I could hear the roof. Rain continued to thunder down from the infinite darkness, viscously attacking the window above. The hissing rain kept distracting my meditations, not that it seemed to be working anyway. "So it is." I turned back to him.
He extended a hand.
"Zachary Meldronich, but everyone calls me Zeke".
I looked at him carefully and shook his hand.
"Raven."
His eyes lit up in some musing excitement, as if something within them had suddenly caught fire. "What a beautiful name." He closed his eyes for a moment and strained his eyebrows as if deep in thought.
"But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore –"
I smiled at the bit of prose. So he lived up intellectually to the maturity of his outfit. I would not call myself impressed, no I'm not that naïve —shallow ogling is more Starfire's territory. Wait, wait! Why must there be all this fighting, it is most unpleasant. I know I shall sing a song of a thousand happinesses to raise the spirit! slammed the Interested, that is what I would call it. This man intrigues me.
"Poe."
"Yes, Indeed."
We watched each other silently for a moment. I was memorized by the electric blue.
Suddenly his eyes sparked again. "When I first saw you Raven I felt a sudden impetus. You have a unique energy - unusual, dark, yet contained. If you would humble me by accompanying me to a special show tonight in town that is crafted for people of our similar standings, I promise it won't disappoint." He offered his arm.
I glanced around the room for a moment. The coffee shop was emptying out, it was getting late. Only the most despondent souls lagged behind. they don't understand me. i..i…why do you go there. why do you go there.
"Yes…I would enjoy that." I took his arm.
Zeke led me out of the shop. I turned away and slammed the door behind me.