The Raven's Call

The soft sound of her pristine white sneakers could be heard on the shiny tile floor over the din of metallic, cold, and rhythmic clicks from glowing machines. A whiff of alcohol and some type of strong cleaning solution created a well-known scent that permeated every inch of the hospital. Darkness surrounded her as she tried her best to remain quiet, nearly stopping her breathing in an attempt to slow her racing pulse. “Why did they have to put her on the night shift?” she pondered anxiously to herself.

Cool air breezed through the room, but it did little to calm her slightly frayed nerves as she picked up the clipboard with trembling hands. The patient was comatose, like a beautiful and morbid porcelain doll that could never be revived again. Her black curly hair spiralled across the pillow as if she had just combed it. A sudden movement of her eyes jolted her as the corpse’s eyes suddenly opened. Thick streams of bright voluminous liquid oozed from her mouth onto the white tile floor as she gasped for air in a futile attempt to make her damaged lungs work. A ghastly and slender hand reached for the nurse in a type of panic as the sickly girl’s eyes bulged with the fear of never breathing again.

The eggshell walls shimmered as the modern technology was replaced by a type of crude architecture. A masculine hand now held the tiny hand of the petite woman as if he feared letting go of would cut the very thread of her life. Frantic gasps for air and wheezing sent panic straight to his soul. He couldn’t lose his young bride, not now, he silently thought as he begged some sort of unseen presence.

As she closed her eyes in an effort to try to get a few minutes of precious sleep between the merciless and swift assault on her fragile lungs, he turned in silence to his bit of crumpled parchment, scrolling a concealed prayer to the heavens as he made the sign of the cross in devotion.

Steady and unrelenting, the knocking started, matching the heavy thumps of his heart. A calm and sure stare of the most beautiful black bird held his own glance captive. “Nevermore,” fell from the messengers lips as his pulse began to raise to a fretful crescendo. “Your love will never suffer again, Sir. Nevermore,” reassured the Raven as he puffed his feathers in a display of mourning and regret.

The touch of a hand shattered the young nurse’s thoughts, making her jump, “Why are you in here?”

Narrowing her eyes in confusion, the woman stated, “I’m just doing my job,” as she glanced in bewilderment at the empty bed.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if you need more sleep or what, but this wing of the hospital has been closed for centuries.” She continued, “rumours say that it was some kind of hospice ward for TB patients long before penicillin was discovered.” A smile overtook her face as she continued, “But, you can’t believe everything you hear.”

The silence of the hospital surrounded her like a lead blanket as her nerves jumped in a whispering shiver. Peeling from the walls, the archaic paint seemed to whisper the woman's ghostly figure. Straining to hold the hospital chart still in her trembling hand, she focused her attention on the instructions. The blank sheet of paper confronted her with its mocking gaze. How could there be no patient information, she frantically thought.

A lonely sound of the raven's call could be heard echoing throughout the room.

Written by Isabella Rose and Raven Black.