Here is a ten minute free write from our writing group:
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore!’ – Edgar Allen Poe, The Raven
Dark was the night as quotes from dead writers run vividly through my head. No ravens alight on the window sill. Frankly, no birds chirped or crickets rubbed. Dark and quiet at the top of the stairs. My journey too far come to be retreated. The white paint around the door, flaking and yellowed, more shadow than light. The porch light bulb flings illumination only a foot in either direction. I know from the walk up that the porch extends in at least 20 feet. The foot of light serving only to illuminate the contrast between what I can and cannot see, knowing that the not seeing far outweighs the seeing.
Emptiness lies heavy behind me. Do not look back. Do not give in to the urge. As an adult, I must not, could not, never would give into the desire to run the rest of the way to the door. Nevermore will this moment, this opportunity, lay before me. I ring the bell, muffled through a sturdy house, thick doors, made somehow more substantial with age. Wait. Wait with willful stillness. Fight or flight, raven? I am trembling as I anticipate what could come before me and, more importantly, what could come from behind. Wait. Wait, silently rehearsing my actions should, say, a zombie be lurking. Wait. Wait, pulling in my breath quietly, slowly, not letting it become raspy. Wait. Wait, the calm quietness on the outside of me only, not in.
As the door swings away from me, there is further moment of waiting as the interior of this familiar house in illuminated. The table to the left of the door pictures of young children emerges first. Pictures of my brothers and I at our family home.
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