The dream was always the same. Disturbing in its intensity, yet far too nebulous to hold onto in the bright light of day—until now.
Naia woke up, gasping for air, sticky sheets clinging to her perspiration soaked skin, yet a chill went down her spine. She was being watched.
Tiny, bead like, black eyes, hauntingly familiar with their intensity, stared at her through her open window. Perched on the stone wall outside the raven simply sat there, silently waiting for her it seemed.
They were supposed to be harbingers of news, or some such thing, if you believed the old tales, but this one seemed menacing to her. As still as a statue, it watched, until Naia scrambled out of bed. Then it squawked in seeming indignation, its wingspan much larger than it ought to be. Naia tried, she really did, but with her feet tangled in the sheet, she wasn’t fast enough to close the window against the impending storm.
It was her dream, come to life, the air thick with thousands of birds, intent on harm. She had to…
That raven reached her first. Massive wings enclosed her, keeping her safe, as all hell broke loose.
Tantalizing Tuesday Authors use a photo prompt to tease in 200 words. Please click on the graphic to check out the other fabulous participating authors.
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