RAVENLORD

Episode One: Bus Ride Home

 By Amanda R. Hamlin

           Flame red and golden, the leaves drifted from the branches, carpeting the ground.  Caught in the crisp October wind, they rose and danced, forming a swirling vortex around the legs of the woman as she strode quickly along the street, smart black boots peeking out from the narrow legs of her stylish jeans.  She walked with a swift, steady purpose, her steps clipped, heels clicking on the pavement.  The sky overhead was gray but, in the east, there was a faint, bloody flush. The days were already starting to get shorter but it was not bad yet.  In the months to come, the air would be crystal cold and the sky black until long after she was shut inside the mall.  But, now she hurried, not out of discomfort, but a perverse habit of efficiency.  The bus would arrive at the stop down at the end of the block at precisely 7:30, as it did every day. Reaching the spot sooner would change nothing.

            Raw cries startled her and, looking up, she saw the skeletal limbs of a tree, already bare of leaves, and a black raven clinging to them.  But she did not stop to look longer, heeding the noisy birds no more than the eddies of leaves circling her.  As usual, she reached the stop with plenty of time and, as usual, it was deserted.  The old woman who always wore long, drab colored dresses and kept her hair tied back under a scarf only rode the bus on Wednesday and Fridays.  Julia liked to imagine this woman was a nun from the nearby old Gothic style church, though, admittedly, this was highly unlikely.  The church probably wasn't even Catholic.

            Boarding the bus, she sat near the middle, avoiding both the priority seats and the boisterous teens—probably cutting class--in the back.  The bus went careening off down the sleepy neighborhood street and, in no time at all, had left the boundary of the town.  Beyond lay acre after acre of flat open fields, now filled with the brown and rotting stalks of summer's harvest, twisting and falling over each other like a mass of leprous serpents.  Away from the shelter of the houses, fog was rising, dangling white curls oozing from every dividing stream and roadside puddle.  They shrouded the decaying fields in a murky haze and spiraled against the windows of the bus like the grasping fingers of ghosts.

          Watching the swirling vapors numbed her into a sort of trance so that she almost fell back asleep and only shook herself out of it with a start as the bus was pulling into the mall parking lot.  Once again, she hadn't seized the chance during the commute to get some reading done on her new steamy adult fantasy novel.  In fact, she'd only opened the book once since she'd gotten it.  But, beyond the fact that reading would be good for her, the book had been a gift from her friend Velma who might be offended if she took too long to get around to it.  No good worrying about that now.  She was already opening the mall doors and, from there, it was only a short walk to “Radiant Beauty Treasures.”  Time to get her head into the mode to work.  It wasn't that Julia disliked working at the salon.  She was good at what she did, her own personal little form of art.  She loved the silky feel of freshly washed hair slipping and slithering through her fingers.  Even the chemical odors of hair spray and dyes made her feel glamorous.  And working at a full-service salon meant that, in addition to hair service, she could get make-overs and mani-pedis from her co-workers during down time.

            “Morning, Julia.”  Velma waved at her with more than usual enthusiasm, looking up from setting out her tools on her manicure station.  Julia smiled back with her mouth, hoping the sourness in her heart did not show in her face as she remembered Velma's excitement likely stemmed from the fancy hairdo Julia had promised her.  Normally, Julia had no objection to working on Velma's hair. She was a good friend. Besides, her hair was perfect, a real stylist's dream.  Deep, coppery red, it took highlights well and, reaching just past her shoulders, was the ideal length, long enough for creative styles but not so long weight became an issue.  But this time, Velma wanted her hair done for an upcoming date with an exciting new beau and Julia felt, not jealousy, not resentment, just some vague sensation that was sour and sad.  

          Moving to her station, she did a quick scan to make sure everything was in place, the curling iron, flat iron, the various picks, brushes and combs, three sizes of scissors, the jars of elastic bands and bobby pins, and various dyes, gels, papers, and applicators.  She pumped the styling chair with her foot, tested the water pressure from the hair wash sink, and absently tried the various blowers and function buttons on her station's hood, then lifted her huge hair spray bottle, frowning at its lightness.  Sure enough, a quick shake by the ear revealed it was almost empty and would need to be replace by a new one out of the back room. 

            By the time she had solved this issue and made it back to her station, Velma had finished her set up and was sitting in Julia's salon chair, obviously waiting for her.  “You want to go out this Friday?” 

“I'm not sure,” Julia said uneasily. “Friday might be Garrett's day off.”

            “His day off from work?” Velma asked almost enviously.

“No, Warcraft.“

            “What?”

            “Never mind.  I'll ask him what his schedule looks like.”  Secretly, Julia was half glad for an excuse not to hang out with Velma who, she knew, was looking for an opportunity to gush about her upcoming date and Julia had become increasingly uncomfortable sharing life details with her friends as her own life went on and on with no change.  She felt old and “out of it,” like she was proving all those stereotypes about how getting married makes you boring.  This made her angry and, by extension, cranky and antisocial around those whose lives were more conventionally exciting than her own. Fortunately, her first client of the day arrived at that moment, so she was spared discussing the matter further with Velma.  But, all through the day, she kept fuming to herself about the twisted values of the world around her.  Why should dating random guys be considered superior to having a stable home life?  Even if none of the guys turned out to be abusive or cheaters, they could still be downright boring.  Based on Velma's reports, nearly half the dates she went on were so dull they didn't warrant a second try.  It kind of reminded Julia of people who wasted lots of money on lottery tickets, which she had never understood either.  But then, gambling was big business these days so people must get a thrill out of putting something at risk whether it was their money or their sex life.  She just wasn't one of those people.

          Walking home, she saw the ravens were still in the tree, at least some of them were, ruffling their feathers to dry them after the recent shower.  One leaped from a branch, spreading wide its wings in a flourish of shimmering feathers. Twice it circled in the air, its graceful flight mimicking the movement of the leaves, which were blowing again, before coming to land on the edge of the curb.  Then it hopped awkwardly out into the street, a grotesque jerking motion, one shoulder higher than the other, until it reached a packed mass of fur and flesh in which the blood had already faded to an anemic pink.  The thick, gunmetal beak stabbed down and emerged with a long elastic strand of flesh and muscle.  The raven waddled back, keeping a firm grip on its prize, yanking it once or twice, until the rubber thread tore, then slurped it up like a noddle.  Julia walked on, feeling slightly queasy. 

            As she stepped through the door of the house, everything was quiet and dark, this being one of the days she got home before her husband, Garritt.  Then there was a wild clatter on the stairs and a flying ball of snow hurtled towards her, impacting hard in her midsection.  As Julia slumped back against the door, Sylvanus, their Maltese puppy, put her paws up on her leg, wiggling her tail crazily.  “Easy girl,” said Juila, scratching her behind the ear as she slid off her boots and moved towards the kitchen.  The quesadillas were in the pan and she was mashing the guacamole when Garritt came in. 

            “That smells delicious,” he said, grinning, coming over to plant a kiss on her cheek before hanging up his coat.

“Do you want to go for a walk tonight?” she asked when he came back, flipping the quesadillas out onto their plates.

“Sure, if nobody wants to run a heroic tonight.”  

            Julia wrinkled her nose.  It wasn't that she disapproved of Garritt's World of Warcraft guild.  It was certainly much better than having beer drinking football fans regularly take up residence in the living room.  It was just that, “You did that yesterday, and the day before that you were raiding, as you will be tomorrow too.” 

            Garritt smiled ruefully.  “I know and I'm sorry.  You know the content patch just dropped and we really need the gear for the new dungeon that got released.  This pace won't last long, and, after, I'll take you out to that new, fancy restaurant I know you've been eyeing.”

            “Oh.”  Juila felt her cheeks color and was too embarrassed to make further protest.  She had, in fact, been itching to try a new restaurant Velma had told her about but she hadn't yet mentioned it to Garritt.  He often seemed to just know things about her.  Had he snooped on her computer, or did he possess some uncanny ability to read minds? 

            “That's what I thought,” he said, winking at her and leaning in for another quick kiss.

            Predictably, there was a heroic scheduled that night, or two...or three.  In any case, Julia spent the rest of the evening alone, and not knowing quite to do with herself, she spent it sorting laundry and cleaning the bathroom.  It seemed just days before that she had last done so but she did it again, just for something to do and, though the prospect of finally visiting the restaurant she fancied was quite appealing, she knew it wouldn't turn out to be the romantic evening she imagined.  Somehow, whenever Garritt took time away from Warcraft for her it always seemed to correspond with something going wrong at his job and he was too stressed to properly enjoy it.  The one time this hadn't happened, she had been too stressed after having an angry client scream at her for hours that day.

            The next day, Velma was still glowing over her date the previous night.  But then she noticed how gray Julia looked.  “Would you like me to lend you a romance novel?” she asked sympathetically.  At least she wasn't saying anything about the almost romance novel gift book.

            “What would be the good of that?  It takes two to tango and, when there's always a raid or a crisis at work, no one's going to get on the dance floor.”

            “How do you tolerate all that raiding?  I don't get it.”  

            “It's not really so bad.  I spend at least as much time with Garritt as you have with any of your boyfriends.  The only thing is that it's scheduled...so I can't booty call him.”

            “See, that's what you need a romance novel for.”  Despite her frustration, Julia had to laugh.  Still, it had been a close call.  As soon as she boarded the bus after work, Julia took out the almost romance novel gift and forced herself to begin reading.  There was no way she was allowing her friend to find out what a slacker she had been, especially because she wasn't being as supportive as she ought about Velma's new relationship.  The book was called War Bride and was about a princess whose castle was besieged by nomadic barbarians and, as part of a peace treaty, was given as a prize to their leader. Of course, lots of other things happened in the book as well, such as the fact that the giant lizards the barbarians rode on were dying of a mysterious disease which the princess might be able to cure with her culture's more sophisticated medical knowledge.  But none of that was important.  The whole point of the book, at least in the eyes of Velma and Julia, was the way the princess simultaneously hated and looked down on and was overcome with desire for the barbarian chief.

 

--end of episode one—

 

Copyright: Amanda Hamlin

Not to be used by A.I. without permission of the author.

Cover art by Eric Hamlin

To view his portfolio, go to: https://www.instagram.com/hamlin.eric/

Not to be used by A.I. without permission of the artist.

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Also read:

 “Deliverance from the Eye” a short story by Amanda Hamlin, free at https://amandahamlin.stck.me

 

The first three chapters of “I, PENELOPE” are now open for free on stick.me and TAPAS

(https://tapas.io/series/I--PENELOPE).

And on WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/1395125995-i-penelope-chapter-1-dungeon-master

Also, go to: All That is Gold at URL:     http://allthatisgoldwriting.blogspot.com/p/httpsdrive.html

For non-fiction by this author go to URL:  https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Amanda-Hamlin

 

Key words/tags: bus, book, trance, ravens, Warcraft, husband, hair