The Unseen Watcher: A Gothic Tale (Part 2) The Crow's Warning
I've been plagued by a multitude of computer issues which has been making me avoid my computer...Fought through it today and an hour later, one reboot, & a litany of curse words just to make one image for today's post...Enjoy!
The Unseen Watcher: A Gothic Tale Part 2 picks up with Lenore expanding on the second stanza of the Gothic poem I wrote.
But first, the legal bit:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact jensequel.com
At first, she pays no heed to their dark flight,
But soon she feels their gaze, piercing the night,
Their caws like whispers, haunting her dreams,
As paranoia grips her in silent screams.
Part Two: The Crows' Warning
Lenore's slumber was anything but restful, as each night, unsettling dreams set the stage for a court of crows that peered into her soul with judging eyes. They cawed and squawked, giving voice to the whispers of her conscience that surfaced sins she had sought to bury in the abyss of her memory. With each break of dawn, the sharp gaze of the birds seemed to pierce through her, a relentless reminder of transgressions she wished remained unseen.
Awake, Lenore felt the weight of judgment as if the very air around her bore the burden of guilt. The crows' scrutiny seemed unending, their presence an indelible mark upon her daylight hours. And as shadows grew and light waned, their whispers returned, sinister and unyielding, recounting her hidden sins with chilling accuracy. The once innocuous chatter of her mind now amplified, becoming a cacophony of accusations she could neither escape nor quell. The crows had become the jury and executioner of her peace, their verdict a never-ending cycle of torment.
Pitch and tumult in the wings of the night, the crows circled above, a cloud of warning in the otherwise still firmament. Lenore's heart, sensing a foreboding message in their relentless circles, sped its tempo, beating a staccato rhythm against the quiet of the night. It was as though they were messengers, harbingers of some unspoken malice lurking just beyond the fog's embrace.
With each step, her surroundings seemed to close in tighter, the night air growing thick with a dread that was almost palpable. The ghost stories told by the hearth, once dismissed by Lenore as mere lore to keep the children abed, now haunted the corners of her mind. The crows' presence was no longer a mere coincidence—it felt like an omen, a spectral warning to interrupt her monotonous existence.
Lenore's pulse thrummed in her ears, drowning out the rustling whispers of the night. She could almost hear the crows speaking to her, their guttural voices threading through her thoughts—a grim litany that seemed to spell her doom. Panic rose within her like the tide, and in its wake, every shadow seemed to dance with malice, every sound a portent of danger.
Her mind railed against the seemingly endless possibilities the birds represented, making her travels outdoors unbearable. Even sheltered within the very walls of her home, she could feel their presence, lurking outside, their bodies lighting upon her rooftop. She could hear their scratching upon the eaves. She could see them in the dark staring through the windows, their eyes black obsidian.
Comments