Short Story: Raven

At dusk, the air darkens with each breath. Wind. The shadows sigh with the breeze in the blackness of the evening. The lateness of the hour becomes clear to you, as you run from the sound of wings beating.

At night, dust singes each eyebrow. Feathers. Black feathers falling onto the wet earth, covering everywhere. Claws pierce into your skin as you scream.

A gust billows through the dimness. Rain begins pouring from smoky clouds and it is darker than ever before. But you are still running, still escaping as your breath wreaths around you in circles, within the dead of the night.