Once Upon a Raven’s Wing

Ever since I was a child, strange and occasionally terrifying dreams have afflicted me. More often than not, I experience an odd sensation of my body feeling heavy enough to sink into my mattress like a lead weight while also light as air, as if I am floating above myself.

At first, I would lay trapped in these dreams, unable to wake myself or even move my body until they had run their course. The lack of control was often more frightening than the dream.

When they began, I was confused. I didn't understand what was happening to me. The first time I mentioned the dreams to my mother, she gave me a long hard look before dismissing them as a figment of my overactive imagination. Mom worked two jobs to make ends meet and was more concerned with getting me out the door and on my way to school before she ended up being late than considering that there could be something wrong with me.

Mom was one of the only people in my life who didn't think I was anything but normal. I know she loved me despite being somewhat detached. She was tired. And even though it made little sense to me, she was angry that she was left to raise me alone. But when my teachers would express their concern for my mental well-being, she would fight tooth and nail to protect me. They said I was often distracted in class or lost somewhere in my head. Mom wouldn't hear it. She told them that unless my grades were affected, there was nothing to discuss.

I had few friends in school. The kids I hung out with were outcasts like me. Seneca was part of the local Native American tribe. While her ancestors predated any of the area’s founding fathers, many of the townspeople looked down on them. She lived on the reservation on the outskirts of town. Nolan was a theater geek. He could sometimes be a bit hyper and loved to joke and laugh, but he used humor to cover growing up in an unhappy home.

We didn't care what anyone thought of us. Sometimes life was easier when you weren't one of the popular kids.

We were often the subject of cruel pranks and outright bullying. It was during my particularly brutal time served in eighth grade that I realized I had some control over the strange out-of-body experiences. And yes, that year felt like a prison sentence. That was the year my main tormentors decided to take their abuse to the next level.

It was late afternoon. Seneca had gone straight home after school for a family function. I had stayed behind to watch Nolan’s rehearsal. Afterward, we rushed to his house. His parents were overtly religious and very strict. Things could get rough if Nolan weren't home before dinner. While his mom tolerated our friendship, his dad couldn't stand me. For that reason, I high-tailed it away from his house just before his father’s car rounded the corner.

I was taking a shortcut through the back lot of Hu’s Auto Body when they converged on me. I didn't notice until it was too late.

“Well, look who it is. The little goth wannabe,” an overgrown girl called Bitsy said. She looked like she had failed a few grades, but we had known each other since kindergarten. Her real name was Elizabeth. Her nickname had morphed along with her size from Betsy to Bitsy. She had always been bigger than me, but she had recently had a growth spurt that left her towering over me. “Where are your friends, Ceriah?”

“Yeah, where are your friends?” Lorna and Lacey echoed. Those two shared a brain cell, so it wasn't surprising that they couldn't come up with their own taunt.

Bitsy’s goth remark was pretty well on target but didn't render the hurt feelings she expected. I had fully embraced the dark world of wearing my emotions. I understood the desire to give in to depression and general oddness, at least in my case. That day I was channeling Wednesday Addams, with my raven hair hanging in braids along with a black sweater and corresponding plaid mini skirt. My best feature, brilliant blue eyes swirled with browns and greens, stood out in stark contrast, offset with thick liner.

I stood there silently, warring between the sarcastic comment fighting to fly from my mouth and following my mother’s advice to ignore them. Too late, I realized that Bitsy was in a particularly foul mood. Nothing I did or didn't do was going to change the outcome. While I was contemplating my options, she backed me into a corner. I tried to slip by her to no avail. Bitsy drew back her hand and landed a punch in my stomach.

As I saw Bitsy’s fist coming toward me, my brain was screaming at me to run. Suddenly, I split in two. My spirit soared above the scene, watching helplessly as my body crumpled to the ground.

That should have been the end of it, but whatever had set Bitsy off had not been appeased. Lacey and Lorna backed away as she began viciously kicking me. From my vantage point, I could see it all but feel nothing. That didn't stop the silent panicked sobs.

A banging sound rang out as Mr. Hu emerged from the back of his garage, wielding a tire iron. “What is going on out here?” he asked, hitting the wall again, before catching Bitsy by the collar and yanking her away from me. The other girls fled.

As soon as I re-entered my body, I wished I hadn't. Pain flooded my senses. I moaned once before blacking out.

I woke up under the glaring brightness of the overhead lights in a hospital room. My mother’s tear-streaked face looked worriedly down at me.

“Oh, Ceriah. Thank God you are awake.” she cried when she realized I had opened my eyes.

“Mom.” The words came out in a weak croak.

She reached out and gently held my hand. “They did an x-ray. You have a few cracked ribs, but the doctors say you will be right as rain in a few weeks.” Mom chattered nervously, not letting me get a word in. I was okay with that. I didn't feel like talking. “Mr. Hu kept ahold of that girl until the police arrived. She’ll get what’s coming to her. I never did like her.”

“Mom, you tried to make me be friends with her when we were five,” I said.

She waved her free hand at me. “That was before I got to know her family. They are as bad as she is. Her father is a drunk and her mother can barely be bothered to look after all those children she keeps bringing into the world.”

Where had that come from? My mom didn't usually gossip about people like that. Then again, she was understandably angry about the fight. I ignored it. I had more pressing questions.

“Mom, something weird happened when Bitsy attacked me. I went outside my body like I do with those dreams.” I said. I knew how she would react, but I tried anyway. I needed someone to understand.

“Ceriah, I’ve told you that sort of thing isn't real.” Mom began.

“It is real. I watched Bitsy kick me. I couldn't do anything to stop her, but at least I couldn't feel it either.” I insisted.

Mom was quiet as a series of emotions crossed her face. She finally settled on anger. “This all your father's fault.”

“Mom. I'm sorry he wasn't there when I was born. How could this possibly be his fault?” I cried. It's not like my father had left us on purpose. He died in an accident a few weeks before my mother gave birth. I know Mom loved him, but she had never forgiven him for taking her dream life from her.

She shook her head. “I don't mean because he died. There was always something strange about him. He never knew his family. His mother gave him up for adoption, and he didn't know who his father was.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know, Mom. What does that have to do with anything? It's not like he had a bad life with Grandma and Grandpa.”

“I think his mother has always kept an eye on him. And you. Every once in a while, I see a woman watching us.” My mother said. “She dresses oddly.”

I was too tired to argue that the way a person dressed didn't mean there was something wrong with them. I knew who she was talking about, though. She spoke to me when I was reading in the park last year. Yeah, I know. Stranger Danger. Aside from the flowy new-age dress that stood out in our community, she seemed normal enough. I didn't get any bad vibes from her. There were plenty of people in town that gave me the heebee-jeebees that I was pretty sure I could trust my instincts.

The woman felt familiar. Her hair was gray, short of a few strands as dark as a raven’s feathers. She was the only person I had met who had the same color eyes as me. I couldn't help but think she might be my grandmother.

She smiled fondly and told me to stay strong. Then she handed me a large amethyst. I kept the stone hidden from my mom to avoid unnecessary questions, but I often took it out before falling asleep. It gave me comfort.

I let the subject drop. Mom didn't need to know about the meeting or how it had kindled a fascination with crystals and the witchcraft in me.

After accepting that I was able to leave my body, my dreams became more realistic and often exhausting. I’d wake up feeling like I had been running around all night. Once, I even found a bruise on my leg in the same place I had bumped it in my dream.

It wasn't until I was sixteen that I realized there was more to my dreams than I thought. By then, Mom had settled into a full-time job and had received a promotion. Her new position required the occasional business trip. Although she was nervous about leaving me overnight, I assured her I would be fine. It made her feel better that Seneca and Nolan would be spending the night. Of course, Nolan’s parents thought he was sleeping at one of his theater buddy’s homes.

The evening was uneventful. We sat around munching on popcorn while watching Hocus Pocus before heading to bed. The movie choice may have played a role in my dream that night.

Almost as soon as I closed my eyes, I felt the now familiar pull on my spirit. I found myself in a wooded area, still dressed in the vintage nightgown I found in a secondhand shop. The sound of angry voices drew my attention. I followed the noise to a clearing with a murky-looking pond. Several young women were standing in the back of a horse-drawn cart, hands tied with rope. They looked terrified.

One of the girls was pulled roughly from the cart and dragged to the edge of the pond, where they tied a rope around her waist. The young woman protested as they pushed her into the water.

Great. I was dreaming about witch trials. The smells and sounds were hyper-realistic. I gasped and tried to surge forward when the water stopped churning. A hand grabbed my shoulder before I could break through the tree line. I spun around to find a woman in old-fashioned attire holding a finger to her lips. My own eyes peered back at me. It was like looking at an older version of myself.

“Let me go,” I hissed. “She’s going to drown.”

“Truth, but you cannot interfere,” she replied.

I tried to pull away from her to no avail. She was stronger than she looked. “They are innocent. None of the people killed in the trials were actually witches.”

The woman nodded. “Of course not. No true witch would allow themselves to be caught.” She gave me a penetrating look. “Hmmm. Interesting. You must be one of my descendants. It's good to know my line will survive until your time.”

“What?” This dream was more confusing than most.

“I can sense it. My blood runs through your veins. You must embrace the power you have inherited.” she said cryptically. “I am called Prudence.”

The first girl’s body was pulled from the water and left unceremoniously on the shore. A preacher waved a cross over her and muttered a prayer as men pulled another woman toward the water. I tried to make my forebear see reason as her fingers pressed painfully into my shoulder. “I have to help them.”

“History must run its course, even if it is wrong. If these women die, it is all a part of the Universe’s plan. Saving them could result in someone being born who should never have existed. Someone who could set off something catastrophic.”

“What could be more catastrophic than the murder of innocent women because of an irrational fear of the unknown?” I asked.

The woman shrugged. “A war, perhaps. I am no seer. I only know not to interfere with time. Everything happens for a reason. The people that have brought about the deaths of innocents will pay their price in the afterlife.”

“That makes no sense.” I twisted into a move I had cultivated through years of abuse at Bitsy’s hands. It allowed me to break free from the woman’s grasp. “What if saving them results in the birth of someone who, I don't know, invents something that can save the world?”

She shook her head. “If that is to be, they will come about by some other means.”

I backed away from her. “I can't just leave them. I have to try.” I turned and ran toward the pond.

I didn't get far before rough hands grabbed me. Two men dragged me to the preacher, who looked me over. “I’ve not seen this one before. She is not from around here.”

“What should we do with her?” one of them asked.

The preacher waved toward the water. “Put her to the test.”

“But she hasn't been brought to trial,” the other said.

“There is no need. Look at her eyes. See how they change color? They are witch eyes for sure.” he replied.

Before I could do more than scream in protest, I found myself tied up and sinking below the dark water. Pond scum filled my mouth. As my lungs burned, I wondered if I died in my dreams would I die in real life?

I sat up in my bed, coughing violently before expelling brackish water over my blankets.

“Ceriah! What happened? Where were you?” Seneca cried.

As I tried to speak through the hacking, I realized I was sopping wet. Far too wet for night sweats. “What are you talking about?” I gasped out between coughs. “I’ve been right here asleep.” Even as I said it, I knew it wasn't true. I threw back the covers to find my feet and the bottom of my nightgown covered with mud.

Nolan looked pale. “Ceriah, we’ve been in the room since we went to bed. You never got up, but you weren't here.”

I barely heard him as I fought off a panic attack. This was more than an out-of-body experience. Had I actually traveled through time?

Seneca pulled me into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I was shivering. I stood under the hot spray, repeatedly soaping up until I finally felt clean, and the water turned cold. I was too exhausted to do more than curl up on the couch with my friends, but before I passed out, I resolved to find my grandmother. I wasn't sure how to go about that, but I was certain she would be the only person who could explain what was going on.

It was several weeks before I saw her again. She must have known I wanted to talk to her because she waited for me to make an excuse, asking my friends to run an errand so I could speak to her alone.

“I see you have come into your power,” she said.

“Power? I don't understand any of this. Can I really travel through time, or are they just really vivid dreams?” I asked.

She smiled at me. “Witchcraft has always run through our line. Time travel is not common but also not unheard of.”

“Our line. Then we really are related. Are you my father’s mother?”

She nodded. “Yes. I am your grandmother.”

“Why did you give him up?” That wasn't what I had meant to ask. It was out of my mouth before I could consider if it would offend her.

She gave me a sad smile. “I didn't want to let him go. I was young and thought myself invincible. I got involved with the wrong man. He was a powerful witch, but he embraced evil. I found it alluring at first. I soon saw the error of my ways. When I realized I was pregnant, I knew I had to get away from him. I left him and hid until after your father was born. I gave Branwen up to protect him.”

Branwen. I never knew she had named him that. Mom and his parents always called him Bran. I always assumed that was the extent of it. “Mom said you used to watch him.”

“Yes. I couldn't help myself. My former lover was dead by then, but I could see my son had grown up in a loving family. I didn't want to disrupt that, so I watched from the shadows.”

I didn't know what it was like to have a child or give one up. I didn't even know if I wanted kids. Still, I felt bad for her. “Did my...was my father a witch too?”

She nodded. “Near as I could tell, he had the gift of foresight.”

“If he could see the future, why didn't he save himself?” I asked, feeling choked up. Why hadn't he saved himself for me?

My grandmother reached out to take my hand. “I don't know. He must have had a good reason. I could see how much he loved your mother and how much he was looking forward to meeting you.”

I looked at the ground. “Ceriah, I am very proud of you. There aren't many people who could accept and learn how to use our gifts without training.”

“But I don't know how to use them. What good is being able to time travel if I can't right the wrongs in the world?” I asked miserably.

“You can observe and spread the truth. I know many won’t believe you, but don't let that stop you,” she said. “I should go before your friends return.”

“Wait. What is your name?” I asked, wanting a real connection with her.

“I call myself Raven. That wasn't the name I was born with, but it suits me better than Phyllis,” she replied with a grimace. “The magic skipped over my father, and my mother named me after her grandmother.”

“My mom may not be magical, but at least Ceriah sounds more witchy,” I said. “She’s not magical, right?”

“No. I’ve never sensed anything in her. She seems more suited to facts and logic.” Raven replied.

I nodded emphatically. “Yeah. Whenever I’ve tried to talk to her about my dreams, she’s changed the subject.”

“I will continue to check in on you,” she said. “You can tell me anything.”

“Thank you.” I gave her an awkward hug. I had never been big on physical contact, and I barely knew her.

In the distance, I heard Nolan laughing. I turned my head in that direction. When I turned back to say goodbye to Raven, she was gone. It was like she had just disappeared.

I continued to have the time-traveling dreams, but they rarely seemed as interactive as the witch-dunking incident.

The thought of my father possibly knowing that he was going to die and still letting it happen bothered me. Mom didn't like talking about it, so I didn't even bother asking for her thoughts.

In my senior year, I decided to go straight to the source. Maybe I could prevent his death and make my life a little easier.

Aside from when Bitsy had attacked me, I had never gone outside my body without being in a dream state. I asked Seneca and Nolan to watch over me as I attempted to make it happen. Mom was on a date, so we knew we wouldn’t be interrupted.

I sat on the floor in the middle of the living room. I had been practicing meditation and quickly fell into a trance state. I concentrated on my intention. As my spirit left my body, the furniture around me disappeared - replaced with a busy street. This intersection didn't look familiar, so it must have been in the city. Mom and Dad had lived in Chicago when he died. She had moved back to Covington when I was a baby so her parents could help with me.

I looked around, trying to decide what to do first. A raven-haired young man caught my attention. He looked exactly like the pictures in our photo albums. He seemed sad but determined. I grabbed his hand as he walked closer to the traffic. His surprised expression morphed into a smile. I knew he would have my eyes. Or I had his eyes.

“Ceriah, you are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined,” he said.

It took me a moment to choke out a response. “Dad. I’ve come to bring you home.”

He shook his head. “I know, sweetheart. I never wanted to leave you, but I have to do this. I don't expect you to understand, but I am doing this for you.”

Anger took over, and I snapped at him. “How could leaving me be a good thing? And don't give me any crap about not tampering with history. Saving you won't screw up anyone else’s timeline. It would give me the life I always should have had.”

“I wish that were true, baby, but there is more at stake than a happy childhood.” Dad gestured toward an African American woman pushing a toddler in a stroller. “That little boy is your soulmate. He is also a descendant of magick. If I don't sacrifice myself now, both of our lines will end with you.”

“I don't care! I need you. I’ve always needed you.” I cried. The woman seemed distracted as she reached us. The boy smiled up at me in adoration. Emerald green eyes stood out in stark contrast to his dark cinnamon skin tone. His short-cropped hair was a shade lighter with a hint of red. It was strange to look at this toddler, knowing he was supposed to be my soulmate. Then again, in this timeline, I wasn't even born yet.

His mother kept walking, pushing the stroller into the oncoming traffic. I reached out to stop her.

“I’m sorry, Ceriah. I’ve always loved you,” my father said before rushing to shove them out of the street.

The squeal of tires as the car tried to brake drowned out my scream. I heard the thud but saw nothing as the scene faded away. “Dad,” I wailed as my living room came back into view.

“You are my best friend, Ceriah, but this is some weird shit,” Nolan said. “My dad might think I’m a freak of nature, but this is on a whole different level. Your entire body just vanished and reappeared.”

Seneca hushed him as she hugged me. I continued to sob until there was nothing left in me. I went to bed before Mom got home, but I couldn't sleep. I lay there staring at the ceiling til dawn. The loss of my father hit me for the first time in my life. I had never grieved him before because I had never known him. I still didn't know him - not really. Now I lamented what could have been.

I went through the last few months of school in a daze. I barely slept, forcing myself awake when I felt my spirit try to leave. I had no desire to travel through time anymore. I couldn't save my father because he was saving me.

Before I saw my father die again, I had chosen to attend college in Chicago. Something had drawn me toward that choice. At the time, I figured it was an attempt to return to my roots, although if I could believe that witch in the woods, my roots went back to the colonies somewhere. I would have to ask Raven if she knew.

Nolan was going to the same college. Mostly, he wanted to get out of Covington. The LGBTQ+ community there was practically non-existent. He could be himself in Chicago. Besides, the college had an excellent theater program.

I wandered the neighborhood near campus, looking for a shop called Blessed Books. Some other students interested in the occult had suggested it. I was beginning to come out of my funk and wanted to explore what else I might be able to do. Anyway, they said this store had tons of crystals and books on the subject.

I double-checked the address on my phone and reached for the bright purple door. There were runes etched into the panels. A string of bells hanging from the doorknob jingled merrily as I opened it.

The spicy scent of sage and incense and the slightly sweet smell of beeswax candles hit me as I walked in. Even if I weren't exploring my witchiness, I would have liked it there. The cozy space was filled to the brim with books, stones, candles, bottles, odd little knick-knacks, and a few cauldrons. It felt safe in there.

I ran my hands over a shelf of crystals, picking up anything that called out to me. I was considering grabbing a wooden bowl to carry them in when someone slid a wicker basket under my hands in time to catch a heavy piece of rose quartz as it slipped from my grasp.

“Can I help you find anything?” a rich voice asked.

I turned to find myself face-to-face with him. He was obviously older, but there was no doubt it was the boy in the stroller. He had the same cinnamon skin and the same coppery hair along with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. His emerald eyes sparkled as they took me in.

Time stopped.

It felt like an eternity passed before either of us could speak again. He introduced himself as Amari. His mother owned the shop. They had recently remodeled the upper-level storage area into an apartment. The building had been a two-flat originally, so it already had plumbing and electric lines in place. Amari lived there and worked in the store while he finished college.

Being with Amari was the first time in my life that I truly felt like I belonged. I began working at the shop almost immediately and moved in with Amari at the end of that school year.

Aside from his mother, Amari has plenty of aunties and uncles involved in the craft. They love teaching me what I need to know. While I still exercise the reflex that allows me to leave my physical form, I don't time travel anymore. It seems pointless when I can’t change history.

Three years after graduation, I am happily married with a toddler of my own. Mom is still living in Covington. She recently remarried and is happy there. We occasionally visit her and my grandparents, but more often than not, they come to Chicago.

Nolan is working at a cafe a few train stops away and loves stopping by to spoil my daughter. He is still a theater geek, but it has become more of a hobby. He has found his calling as an LGBQT+ activist. Nolan met the love of his life through the foundation. His relationship with his father is practically non-existent, but his mother often visits.

Seneca had chosen to attend college in Phoenix and is finishing med school. We don't see her much. The last time she was here was for my wedding. But we do text and call a lot.

I find Raven on the floor behind the counter, happily banging a grounding wand on a ceremonial drum. Her dark hair is always trying to escape the rubber bands. Her skin tone is somewhere between Amari’s cinnamon and my barely-kissed-by-the-sun cream. Raven grins up at me with sparkling eyes - one emerald green and the other my own witchy blue.

I gather my daughter into my arms, holding her close. I have to admit that I’m concerned about her future. What type of gift would she inherit? I know there’s no reason to worry. Between my grandmother and Amari’s family, there are plenty of people to guide her through it. She won't have to struggle to deal with it alone.

“Come on, my little witchling. It's time for your lunch and a nap.”

“I wan sketti,” Raven says.

I laugh. “Well, if you’re going to eat spaghetti, you’ll need a lavender bath before your nap.”

Amari chuckles and gives us both a kiss as we walk by where he is stocking books. I still can't get over how right we are for each other. Or how much I love him. If you had asked me when I was a child where I saw myself as an adult, I would have never guessed it would be with a magickal family running a witchy little shop. I am happier than I could ever imagine