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 Posted: Fri Aug 01, 2008 1:34 am
The backstory of Atticus.... I'll write it someday.
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2008 10:56 pm
Alright. C'mon, sit down. Where? Wherever, it doesn't matter. Sit on the floor if it really takes your fancy.
-The Raven in all his 'glory' sits down in a large, comfortable looking chair, pipe in hand. Already lit, even-
For documentation purposes, I've decided to offer a bit of info on me for those interested. I'm not as articulate with words as my female 'friend', but there are things that you could only understand if one stepped into my shoes.
-He leans back for a moment, as if pondering on how to continue. A puff of his pipe seems to clarify just that-
You see... From the Black Cat's perspective, the Raven is automatically supposed to be the quote "Best friend" unquote. And, that has been taken to far too many extremes. A servant. An indebted slave. A martyr. I'll tell you... This time, I was trying to be cautious.
-He sighs-
But... Things don't ever work out the way they're supposed to, now do they? Life... Is a very unpredictable thing at times. And others, the irony is so thick you can cut it with a knife.
Enough of this prelude. Talk is cheap. Actions are what keep the world turning...
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2008 11:53 pm
Another birth.
Another breath.
Another life.
Another death.
The Raven, Forever More...
...The more you live, the more you lack.
And how true that nursery rhyme was. Rebirth is a painful thing. Both physically and emotionally. It's even more painful if you recall memories from the past life.
Your loved ones...
Your loathed ones...
And those who could only look at you and wonder.
All of them.. Don't remember anymore. You were lost to them. And, in turn, they are lost to you. Go back and tell them who you are. Why you are. I dare you. Watch them look at you like a madman. And, in turn, feel more hurt than you had before.
I don't know what's worse now...
This time. I was born without. Without emotion. Without reason....
But most importantly, without the wings to escape it all.
Those feathery wings. I cherished them. Lavished in them. Coveted them.
And now all I can do is look back upon myself in disgust. Disgust, huh. I guess there are some emotions you can't escape no matter what happens to you.
This time, I was born into a nice family. They knew there was something... Different about me. But for some reason, that didn't matter. The man was a doctor. The wife was a simple home maker. But I could see love in their eyes as I grew. And, even learned to call them my parents. The wings and the ears didn't bother them. In fact, they considered me 'special'.
I'd never been called special. You'd think something like that would be touching. But...
I've never been able to smile. Add emotion to my tone, my words. And it was noted.
And, at the age of five, my 'mother' taught me how to play the violin. "It was a way to filter through my physical being and give the world a way to understand me." were her exact words.
Such a brilliant woman, left to such simple and daunting tasks as caring for a man and a child. She also taught me to sew... A guilty pleasure, I suppose. Since most men consider it woman's sport. We didn't tell father about that.
When I was around ten, father, or Edward rather (Mother called him Ed to be cute), began teaching me the tricks of his trade.
On a side note, as I neglected to mention, I was constantly having nightmares around age nine. Can you guess why? Clever dog, that's when the last black cat 'awakened'. And damn, did she ever. I think they said I seizured that day. I don't remember since, obviously, I was unconscious.
But, back to my dribble. Edward taught me the ways of medicine. In lives before, I'd simply re-learned my light magic talents on my own... But I wanted to try something different this time. It was something new. And new for me was quite difficult to come by. It was a little more complicated, that was for certain. The different medicines, what they did, what to use them on, and what to NOT use them on. Anatomy, organs, good gracious, I could go on.
But I won't. I'm not teaching a college class, I'm telling a story...
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Posted: Sat Dec 06, 2008 11:33 am
Now, here's where things get a bit rocky. It was around the age of seventeen when Edward became ill. And, it was up to me to 'make him better' as he said. I think we both knew that he wouldn't be getting better from what he had. But we put on masks for mother (Her name was Eden, by the way).
As time passed, he grew worse. His mind slipped out of his fingers, and it was obvious he was in pain.
His last breath was taken on the day of my eighteenth birthday. I did my usual tasks. Cleaned him up, and prepared his weekly shot...
I could tell he was happy about something... Figured it was just the fact that it was raining. In his last days, he seemed to find the rain comforting...
And, as I gave him the shot, he looked over at me with kindness filling his eyes and whispered "Thank you.."
Then...
He just died.
I didn't understand why it had been so sudden, until I looked at the bottle. He'd switched it. He tricked me into killing him.
I told his wife, like any good doctor would. I was surprised... When she didn't cry. She just... Sat down in her chair and continued the quilt she'd been sewing.
And that was the quilt we buried him with. The prettiest one she'd ever created with those fragile hands. Made from love, stitched with care...
-He pauses in his tale to look at the ground and take another puff. Though it doesn't show through his facial expressions, remorse is quite obvious-
I've tried to re-make that quilt about a dozen times. But it never comes out quite right...
-Atticus looks back up at his audience, wishing he had thought that instead of saying it out loud-
Of course, after he died, I didn't just leave mother to fend for herself. I kept the business running. But when times got bad in the little town, we moved up to the city. Believe it or not, there was good money to be had. Hard to believe I was one of the first doctors they'd seen in months.
Apparently I got pretty famous too. People told their friends about the weird doctor up on the hill... And it got to the one person I hoped was long dead.
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Posted: Sat Dec 06, 2008 11:57 am
It was around year twenty-two of my life when he showed up at my door. Unpleasant to both they eyes and the nose. Unfortunately, I didn't recognize him at first, or else I never would've opened the door. He was hidden under his usual guise...
And then, he revealed his true form to me. Jessee. That damned cat.
There was a pleading sadness in his eyes. Whether he was faking that too or not.. I couldn't quite tell.
You see, Jessee was a liar when I knew him. And I was sure not much had changed. Looked like he was lying himself right into a grave.
Before my previous life had ended (most likely thanks to him), we had discussed trying to break the curse... By him staying a virgin. I warned him. Told him if he does anything, he was ensuring the fate of us all. Told him that demon was in his blood, and he'd make sure that his bargain was met.
Oh, he did it alright. In the worst possible place. At the worst possible time. He told me about his lover. The little village. And his little daughter.
It was shocking to me that the 13th was born female. I always pictured this big hulking man who'd rip my head off for even speaking. Also, considering she was the first female in the whole bloodline.
I told him that, if the village had their way, she was probably dead by now.
And, apparently, it was the other way around. He'd been there a month before. And it was nothing but a pile of corpses. She was alive. And the worst had happened, as expected. Goddamn you Jessee. For being so selfish.
Then, he did something stupid. He asked me to look for her. Saying he couldn't find her (Though, I doubt he looked. Not only was he a liar, but he was a coward as well) and that I was his 'only hope'.
I kicked him out.
While his life might have been in the toilet, mine was far from it. Hardships aside, I finally had a life some would consider desirable instead of being the black cat's slave. He'd reaped what was sewn for him. And I was quite done with it all...
But still, he persisted. Every week, without fail, he stood at my front door and pleaded that I look for her. It stayed that way for a year.
Then, the nightmares that had haunted me when I was nine came back... They turned into headaches. And the headaches turned into painful visions.
Mother was quite worried. I told her it was nothing...
And then, that b*****d got to her. He told her his sob story, and she believed him. It was the first time Mother scoulded me. Saying that if I could help I should.
It's what father would've wanted.
Eventually, I put two and two together... Realizing that my pain was thanks to her. I could fix this... She was probably living a life unfavorable like her father. Lost and alone. Vengeful and hating.
I could... Put her out of her misery. Like some rabid dog. Stop the curse from succeeding. Under the disguise of a friend.
They were dark thoughts... Dark thoughts indeed.
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