Follow The Raven

"It's your birthday tomorrow, Lara, are you excited?" Rose asked, as I set my bed up for sleep. My bed is basically covered in pillows, and you can't really sleep that well with twenty pillows under your head, it kinda hurts. So, I shove them all off except for the ones I use at night, then I'll place them back on in the morning. Tedious, yes, but I do it anyway.

"Not really, I'm just turning seventeen," I replied, but I still had a grin on my face. Sure, it would be just a regular day for everyone else, no one will take account that its my birthday, not even my parents or my brother, but its still nice to know that you survived another year and hope to survive to see the next. Eighteen will be big, no, huge! Because on my eighteenth birthday, I will be in a taxi with two suitcases filled with as much stuff as I can possibly manage, and on my way to the Hartford International Airport, where I will embark on a one-way flight to Paris. I don't want to be near any of this anymore. I know that some people actually do get away from Sherwood, either by moving to Boston or to New York. No, I need an ocean to keep between me and this hell. So, for the past five years, I've been working at Ungermeyer's bookshop and saving up money. I've got enough for the very, very long taxi ride to the airport, the plane ticket, two weeks in a decent hotel, and a couple of months worth of rent. Basically, I already have enough money to move there right now if I wanted to. But I'm not an adult yet, and I run the risk of getting brought back here if my parents were cruel enough to do it, which is a possibility, a slim one, but one none the less. No, at eighteen, I can go off and they can't do anything about it. Best of all, no one has any idea. They think I'm working for my college fund (something they find ridiculous as well; yeah, I have plans for a bright future and that's ridiculous, right), and technically I am too, I plan to study in Europe as well. It's my master plan: move there, study there, once I've lived there for enough years I'll get my citizenship, and then I'll be set.

"I wonder what you'll get this year," Carly pondered, as I climbed into bed. They usually take a bunch of pillows and sleep, or at least rest, on them. Sometimes they play games until late in the morning; I've grown so accustomed to it that I don't have a single problem sleeping through it. Carly was talking about what we were all wondering ourselves. What will I get this year? My parents stopped getting birthday presents when I was eight, when the son took over and proved to be more reliable than me. The grandparents are basically the same, I think Todd, my brother, is too scared to do anything that might take the spot light off of him, even a little (he really needs to grow a spine). Mrs. Ungermeyer, as mean as she can be, lets me choose three books and I don't have to pay for them. And we've already established that I don't have any friends, other than the ones living in my room, and they can't get me anything because they would have to steal it from somewhere, and that is a no-no in my book. But every year, when I wake up on my birthday, there is a box (ranging in size) with gray paper and a distinctive black bow around it. The presents are always very bizarre, but useful or seems to have a purpose. A couple of years ago, for example, my tenth birthday (same year I started seeing more graphic events in my sleep) I got a beautifully crafted silver Celtic turq with the heads of Ravens at the ends.

Its particularly large compared to my rather tiny neck, but I think its absolutely awesome. And even if I didn't, its not like I have a choice because I never took it off and then one day I said I would, but as it turns out, I can't. Not only did I grow into it but the opening 'magically' shrunk. Now my neck won't go through the opening without seriously hurting me. So, its going to stay there.

"Good night," I said, turning onto my side.

"Good night," they chimed back. I had a hard time falling asleep, a bit of excitement about being seventeen I guess. After all, you only turn seventeen once, right?

---

"Happy Birthday Lara!" All five of the little scalawags screamed at the top of their lungs, jumping onto my bed. I looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand, 5:57. Their early on top of that. Usually they wait until my alarm rings at six. Not this year apparently. I guess they're a lot more excited than I am. But this is an unholy hour to be screaming, here. Sure only I can hear them (and the rest of the dead probably), but can't I have a little mercy on my birthday? No?! *Sigh* Alright.

"Alright, alright, I'm up," I said, sitting up, pushing my long, chocolate brown hair over my head. Oddity number 3: not only do I have very long hair (it reaches my mid-to-lower back), but its dark brown. The majority of Sherwood has blond or light brown hair, my family included. Oddity number 4 (while I'm at it): I have gray eyes, an oddity even in my own opinion, multi-layered gray eyes on top of that, with different rings of gray and a rim of black around it all. The rest of the town either has blue, green, or brown, my family, again, included.

"Open your present, Lara," Tim said, starting to jump again.

"Yes, Lara, open it! Open it!" Maximilien said, joining Tim. Those two weirded me out sometimes, because when they use my name in sentences back to back, it reminds me of that "Charlie and Candy Mountain" sketch. I know they're not going to steal my kidney, but it still reminds of that sketch.

"Alright, I shall open the present," I said dramatically, getting up out of bed. I walked over to my desk, and like every year, there sat a box with that gray paper and the distinctive black bow. It's rather large this year, and the real surprise is that it comes with a card! I never get a card, or a single note from whoever gives me these presents. Maybe now I can know who the awesome person is and thank them. Like the box, the envelope was gray, and inside was a letter, a lengthy letter.

Dear Lara,

Happy Seventeenth birthday, little one. Each year, you and your little friends have found a present that must have sparked some questions. I, unfortunately, cannot answer all of them, but I will touch upon the basics in this letter. I have been watching you since you were little. Your sight of the dead is astounding, some grown humans can see auras or feel presences, but nothing close to what you are capable of. You can see the dead, talk with the dead, touch the dead. No one, in the history of this world has been capable of such a thing and at such a young age!

So, every year, on your birthday, I leave you a present to congratulate you on living another year in your particular surroundings and to help you with the next year. Each gift is meant to help you in a certain way. The turq that I am proud to see you wear is charmed to protect you against the basic evils, but unfortunately not strong enough for the new evils rising.

To be quite honest, I would not have written you normally, but the status quo has changed. This year's present is strictly practical. Gather all the things you will need, basic provisions, clothing, objects that you cannot part with, and pack them into the bag, it is enchanted so that there is no limit to how much you can carry but it is still contained within one space and it will never weigh more than three pounds. The clothing and the shoes, like the bag, are made of a very resistant material that is difficult to damage and repairs itself automatically. The cloak will make you blend in better with your surroundings, making it harder for those that search for you to find you.

I sincerely apologize if this creates even more confusion for you, but you are in grave danger, Lara. You must be at the ready from now on. I do not know when it will happen, but when it does, you must be prepared to run, run as fast as you possibly can. As frightening as things may seem, there is always a light at the tunnel, but only if you believe in it.

Follow the raven, Lara, the raven will lead you.

Happy Birthday, Lara, I hope you have many more,

Octavian

I looked up from the letter, true to every word, in the box there was a leather messenger bag, a sleeveless shirt and pant ensemble, with the legs of the pants being bell-bottom and open on the sides, holding together with criss-crossing string, and a large traveler's cloak; everything in black. So I apparently have a fairy godfather by the name of Octavian, alright, I can accept that. The fact that I am the only one (out of how many billions of people that live or have lived on this Earth?) capable of seeing the dead like they were still alive, kind of hard to imagine, but I can accept that too. The fact that I am now in danger? That one will be harder to accept.

What could I possibly be in danger of? My town? Yeah, I can see them doing something similar to the Salem Witch Trials, even in this era; they're capable of that. But what was this about the status quo changing? And what was it before changing?

I looked at the group standing around, they had to know something; even though we've all been avoiding the subject, or anything that could possibly lead to that subject, now was unfortunately time to take the cat out of the bag. I have questions, a lot of questions, and I seriously need answers.

"Alright kiddos, gather round," I said, bending down to my knees so I would be a little more leveled with them. They complied, circling around me.

"What does this mean?" I asked, holding the letter up. I actually have no doubt in what that letter is saying. I mean, come on, I can see the dead for crying out loud, there isn't much skepticism in me, except on the part of what I'm in danger of.

As if my life wasn't complicated enough. I basically skipped school today; I didn't even go down to eat or anything. I just sat there as they explained what they knew to me and answered my questions when I asked them. Death was actually pretty organized. You apparently have a choice, two doors, kind of like the Matrix, two options. "You take the red door and you stay on Earth, among the living for various reasons; either you don't feel like leaving or you have a reason for staying. You take the blue door, and you see just how far the rabbit hole goes." There, almost like Morpheus said it. Anyway, the kids didn't know much about the land of the dead, they had chosen the red door remember. But they did know that something was happening beyond the blue door, something that could even be felt from here. Apparently, none of us had any idea what I could possibly be in danger of, but the kids believed that I should take heed of this warning, ushering me to pack the bag like the letter had said, and word for word, no matter how much I stuffed into it, it stayed the same size and the same weight.

"It didn't say that it was going to happen today, you know," I said, as they kept listing things that I should probably keep with me.

"It didn't say that it wasn't going to happen today either," Rose replied, trying to lighten the mood with a happier tone. Seven and sarcastic, what'll they come up with next?

This idea that I of all people am in danger bothers me. Why would anyone want to target me? Other than Sherwood, of course, that's a threat on its own. But I'm not all that special, other than the whole dead thing, but that can't be known by everyone...right?! What, do I have some sticker on my back that says "Sees dead people, come and get her" or something? And most importantly, why now?