"Who's you?" The boy backs up, shivering in the sudden cold. The
wind whirls up, tossing leaves like children on a trampoline. He
clutches his coat more tightly around himself, the leather squeaking
slightly. The smell of polished hide comforts him.
The figure limps forward, smiling in a distant and gentle way.
"David." He does not show his teeth, and this worries the boy.
Something about the way the edge of his mouth presses out is odd, not
precisely human. The stench of death is high and strong, overpowering
even his jacket. "And you?"
The boy does not respond, frowning suspiciously.
"Come now, is it not a custom of humans to introduce
themselves?" The man's voice is a low, velveteen purr.
"You're not human." The boy whispers hoarsely.
The smile fades and drops like a flower under the frost, and
an angry light lashes outward in those albino-blue eyes. The strange
man frowns, eyes the boy with his own suspicious. Despite his obvious
anger, the dusty-pale skin does not flush.
"You are a smart boy." The smile slips up, oil on water.
"You are different."
The boy thinks for a moment. Thinks that this man--if that's
what he is--isn't like his mother, his brother, his teachers. Perhaps
he can be trusted, the boy thinks.
"I'm Raven." He says quietly, patiently meeting David's
inhuman gaze. David smiles widely, and four sharp, white points are
visible. Fangs, yes, but the smile is less predatory, more welcoming
than he is used to. He is not often a party to gentility, and it
almost spooks him.
"Raven, Raven...the clever one you are. Come and follow me,
hm?" The voice is sleek and soft as a mink stole, the utterance of
liquid promises like the man who runs the carnival booth. But it is
enticing, and Raven knows how fast he can run--faster than this
stranger, he hopes.
He is led down the beaten path between the centuries
old-stones and blocks of crumbling mortar, past mausoleum doors that
scream injustice in the wind. The leaves and twigs crunch underfoot,
and flowers at fresh graves smell fleshy, too-sweet and all-dead.
They come to the railroad tracks, and Raven pauses. He knows this
place, feels danger and heat and the pounding, sweaty scent of tar and
charred wood. He has seen the trains go wailing by like banshee
lovers sweeping past imperiled man, throwing sticks, rasping and
cawing in a jealous old-woman rage. David is out at the middle of the
railway bridge, the smoke rising ethereal around him, his legs lost in
its fragile gray blanket. He turns, and frowns curiously.
"Well, young Raven? Aren't you coming?"
"The train, David..." he says worriedly. The train has begat
much danger to him in the past. It killed his sister when they played
along its ties, chewed her with its iron death and burned her with its
searing, coal-wrought tongue. He does not fear death, but fears that
his new friend may find more than he bargained for along the fragile
iron strips. "David...the ties..." he can feel the vibration in his toes.
"Come with me, Raven. Fly as your namesake does."
"David--"
Faint but unmistakable, the howl of a train. Raven is five
feet out onto the bridge, and the sound comes from behind him. He
must go to David to escape.
"David it's coming..."
"Then follow me." David shrugs. Raven steps further outward,
terrified of the losing his footing and sliding through the gaps in
the ties. Ten feet now. Five more and he will be able to touch
David's arm. He steps, and the bridge starts to shiver as though
sensing his fear.
"David, the train!"
"Trust me, Raven."
The boy looks wildly back and forth, between the pale, fanged
man, and the ever-brightening light of the train's headlamp. The
tracks tremble. Six feet more. He throws himself another two and
grips David's waist like a dying man. He stares in morbid fascinating
at the oncoming freight hauler. The bridge begins to truly shake now.
"David!" He whimpers, nearly in tears. The man shakes his
head, and whispers for him to hold on.
Then he jumps.
wind whirls up, tossing leaves like children on a trampoline. He
clutches his coat more tightly around himself, the leather squeaking
slightly. The smell of polished hide comforts him.
The figure limps forward, smiling in a distant and gentle way.
"David." He does not show his teeth, and this worries the boy.
Something about the way the edge of his mouth presses out is odd, not
precisely human. The stench of death is high and strong, overpowering
even his jacket. "And you?"
The boy does not respond, frowning suspiciously.
"Come now, is it not a custom of humans to introduce
themselves?" The man's voice is a low, velveteen purr.
"You're not human." The boy whispers hoarsely.
The smile fades and drops like a flower under the frost, and
an angry light lashes outward in those albino-blue eyes. The strange
man frowns, eyes the boy with his own suspicious. Despite his obvious
anger, the dusty-pale skin does not flush.
"You are a smart boy." The smile slips up, oil on water.
"You are different."
The boy thinks for a moment. Thinks that this man--if that's
what he is--isn't like his mother, his brother, his teachers. Perhaps
he can be trusted, the boy thinks.
"I'm Raven." He says quietly, patiently meeting David's
inhuman gaze. David smiles widely, and four sharp, white points are
visible. Fangs, yes, but the smile is less predatory, more welcoming
than he is used to. He is not often a party to gentility, and it
almost spooks him.
"Raven, Raven...the clever one you are. Come and follow me,
hm?" The voice is sleek and soft as a mink stole, the utterance of
liquid promises like the man who runs the carnival booth. But it is
enticing, and Raven knows how fast he can run--faster than this
stranger, he hopes.
He is led down the beaten path between the centuries
old-stones and blocks of crumbling mortar, past mausoleum doors that
scream injustice in the wind. The leaves and twigs crunch underfoot,
and flowers at fresh graves smell fleshy, too-sweet and all-dead.
They come to the railroad tracks, and Raven pauses. He knows this
place, feels danger and heat and the pounding, sweaty scent of tar and
charred wood. He has seen the trains go wailing by like banshee
lovers sweeping past imperiled man, throwing sticks, rasping and
cawing in a jealous old-woman rage. David is out at the middle of the
railway bridge, the smoke rising ethereal around him, his legs lost in
its fragile gray blanket. He turns, and frowns curiously.
"Well, young Raven? Aren't you coming?"
"The train, David..." he says worriedly. The train has begat
much danger to him in the past. It killed his sister when they played
along its ties, chewed her with its iron death and burned her with its
searing, coal-wrought tongue. He does not fear death, but fears that
his new friend may find more than he bargained for along the fragile
iron strips. "David...the ties..." he can feel the vibration in his toes.
"Come with me, Raven. Fly as your namesake does."
"David--"
Faint but unmistakable, the howl of a train. Raven is five
feet out onto the bridge, and the sound comes from behind him. He
must go to David to escape.
"David it's coming..."
"Then follow me." David shrugs. Raven steps further outward,
terrified of the losing his footing and sliding through the gaps in
the ties. Ten feet now. Five more and he will be able to touch
David's arm. He steps, and the bridge starts to shiver as though
sensing his fear.
"David, the train!"
"Trust me, Raven."
The boy looks wildly back and forth, between the pale, fanged
man, and the ever-brightening light of the train's headlamp. The
tracks tremble. Six feet more. He throws himself another two and
grips David's waist like a dying man. He stares in morbid fascinating
at the oncoming freight hauler. The bridge begins to truly shake now.
"David!" He whimpers, nearly in tears. The man shakes his
head, and whispers for him to hold on.
Then he jumps.