the raven

This week’s post is based on lyrics from the song Love Minus Zero / No Limits by Bob Dylan.

“The wind howls like a hammer,

The night blows cold and rainy,

My love she’s like some raven,

At my window with a broken wing.”

….

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The wind slammed against the side of the house and sucked at the eaves, whistling and pounding in equal measure.  He nudged the blinds enough to see out into the darkness beyond his window.  There was nothing out there but the wind driven leaves sailing in torrents away from the oak tree that stood prominently in his front yard.  Nothing should be out there.  It was too nasty, too wild.

She was, though, out in the weather.  She was on one of her adventures, reveling in the power of nature, walking the dark streets, soaking it all in.  She loved evenings like these.  He didn’t think he’d ever understand why even if, as he hoped, they were together for the rest of their lives.

He released the blinds and turned away from the window.  His thoughts swirled through the beautiful chaos of their two years of dating.  Things had been rocky at first.  She’d been so different from anyone he’d ever known, let alone attempted to date.  He’d nearly called things off very early on but there had been something about her, too, that had made him want to be patient and see what happened next.  Their dates weren’t always exciting, but she was and her stories were, and her passion for life was infectious.  As the dates progressed he’d learned to just ride the storm, as he’d come to think of it. 

The beat of the wind changed and rain began to pummel the roof in torrents.  He flicked aside the blinds again but his view was obscured by the water running down the glass.  Sighing, he turned away once more.

After the first couple dates, he’d learned pretty quickly to let her be.  She wasn’t playing the normal dating games, she wasn’t on her best behavior, she wasn’t trying to be anybody other than who she was.  It was refreshing, even if it was terrifying at times.  He’d never known anyone so wild, so free, so in love with living, so comfortable in their own skin.  At some point, also fairly early on, he’d realized that she would very likely walk away one day and that would be the end.  He was too different from her, with his need for routine, and his overall conformity.

But the months passed, the dates began to last longer and become more elaborate, he went on some of her adventures, and she moved in.  She must have seen something in him she felt was worth sticking around for because she always came back.   

The wind slammed against the side of the house, shaking the walls and rattling the rain splashed windows.  He instinctively pushed aside the blinds, searching the darkness for any sign of her.  He knew it was childish.  He knew she’d be fine out there.  But he couldn’t help it.  He was happy when she was happy, but that didn’t keep him from worrying.

The gust subsided and the sound of the rain dominated again.  He let the blinds fall back into place but didn’t turn away.  He could picture her dancing, literally dancing, through the puddles, waltzing with the wind, the trees bowing and clapping as she swirled by.  She wasn’t a leaf, though.  She wasn’t beholden to the wind.  No, she was like a raven, a dark haired beauty, wild and free, working with the storm to get to where she needed to be.  Sometimes that was an adventure.  Sometimes that was home. 

The door opened, startling him from his thoughts, and she stepped through the entryway, easing the door shut slowly, letting that last bit of the storm swirl around her and into the room.  She was radiant.  She was amazing.  He rose from the couch to take her coat and ask her all about the storm.  The smile in her eyes told him she had some great stories. 

lines from a song writing prompt 4

Below I’m posting a bit from a song I love and then I’ll write something around it (not necessarily in the context from the original source but maybe).  If the line grabs you, please steal it and play along too.  Post a link in the comments so I can check out what you did with it as well.

……….

“… and hear your voice of treason.”

……….

He was all mixed up.  She had a way of turning his thoughts inside out.  He didn’t know what he could trust because even his feelings seemed to betray him recently.  Did he love her?  Did he despise her?  Sometimes that depended on the second.

When she curled against him his heart soared.  When she lashed out at him, he sank.  When she sought him out for companionship, for love, he felt he could hold her forever.  When she was intentionally destructive, he couldn’t understand how things could go on.

Minute by minute, day by day, weeks, and months, and years, their relationship carried on in this manner until finally time took its toll on his beloved and she passed.  Then, when she was no longer in his life, he knew that he had loved her all long.  And, as the vet helped him pick out a marker for his dead cat, he couldn’t help himself from singing, “and hear your voice of treason, will you come home and stop this pain tonight, stop this pain tonight.”

lines from a song writing prompt 3

Below I’m posting a bit from a song I love and then I’ll write something around it (not necessarily in the context from the original source but maybe).  If the line grabs you, please steal it and play along too.  Post a link in the comments so I can check out what you did with it as well.

……….

“And the three men I admire most, the father, son and the holy ghost, they caught the last train for the coast.”

……….

The station was a mess.  People running every which way trying to catch their connections.  Late.  Everyone was always late.  Coming or going.  North or south.  It didn’t matter.  Trains always ran late and that meant everyone was always in a hurry when they finally made it to the station.

That was only part of the mess, though.  Others sat around, blocking the hallways and generally bottling up the whole works.  Tears in their eyes.  Down trodden and depressed, the moved slowly with lowered heads and slumped shoulders.  Sometimes they congregated together but most of the time they stayed as far apart as their was room for.

Those were the two general reactions people had when they’d heard the news.  They either raced about frantic or they stopped altogether and did nothing.  They couldn’t be blamed, of course.  Nothing like this had ever happened before.  Nothing like this would ever happen again.

I’m not sure why they chose me but when they called I answered  because I admired them so greatly and then dropped them off at the station.  I even walked them to their platform to make sure they got off okay.  I didn’t ask why they were going and they didn’t offer an explanation but off they went all the same, to the coast of all places.  Why not, I guess.  Perhaps things would be different there.

Here the music had died and life would never be beautiful again.

lines from songs writing prompt 2

Below I’m posting a bit from a song I love and then I’ll write something around it (not necessarily in the context from the original source but maybe).  If the line grabs you, please steal it and play along too.  Post a link in the comments so I can check out what you did with it as well.

……….

“The silent night is shattered by the sounds inside my mind.”

……….

She knew she was getting sicker.  Every day the volume of her life seemed a little higher and little more out of control.  She found herself seeking ways to mitigate the sound.

First she gave up listening to the radio in the car.  That allowed her to fight her way, with clenched teeth and hands at times, through the long hours of work before she once again could seek refuge in the car on the way home.  Then she convinced her boss that she needed to work from home to take care of her aging parents who, in truth, had died several years before.  Then she had begun to wrap everything in cloth because even the sound of clean pates being stacked together in the cupboard could bring her to tears.

No television.  No phone.  No social engagements.  No sound at all.  She even stopped talking to herself as she went about her daily chores.  Then she had to start seeping with ear plugs in because the sound of her breath rustling the sheets was like nails on a chalkboard.

Throughout this escalation she had known she was sick and getting sicker, she hadn’t wanted to admit it though.  And then it escalated so quickly at the end that she was too afraid to ask for help.  But then, she realized she had to seek help because her final refuge had been stolen from her.  She could her own thoughts.  They rang out like crashing bells on a clear morning, setting her teeth to chattering and jostling every last nerve.

She couldn’t handle a phone call so she sat down and began to slowly and carefully, mitigating the sounds of the keys clicking, type out an email to her doctor.

“I need help.  It is as though the sound of the world has all been aimed at me.  Everything slams against me louder and louder.  As i sit here and write this, the silent night is shattered by the sounds inside my mind.”

lines from songs writing prompt 1

Below I’m posting a bit from a song I love and then I’ll write something around it (not necessarily in the context from the original source but maybe).  If the line grabs you, please steal it and play along too.  Post a link in the comments so I can check out what you did with it as well.

……….

“… meet me in a dream of this hard land.”

……….

The sun set gray behind the ash rising on the horizon.  The fires had been burning in the west for longer than he could remember.  Some he met worried they would spread east but it had been years and he’d never seen a flame.

He watched the darkness spread towards the west and eventually overtake the gray.  There would be no stars.  The nightly winds brought clouds with them that sat low upon the ground.

As the stillness of the evening settled into his mind he threw his bedroll on the ground and prepared for sleep.  As always, his thoughts drifted to the friends, the brothers, he had left behind.  Some had gone to battle the raging fires.  Others had stopped traveling to try and build something, a life, a home, a family, here and there along the way.  He alone had kept on.

He missed them but he did not regret his choices.  His path was hard but so was theirs.  Life can kick and gnaw and grind a person down even when everything seems to be going their way.  He could not fight who he was.  They couldn’t fight who they were.  Trying to do so would have been folly.

A chilling breeze pushed down from the clouds and he curled further into his blankets.  It would rain later, he knew.  The ground would be colder and harder in the morning and yet he would wake and carry on.  That was what he knew how to do best.

Turning towards sleep, he yawned and murmured, his eyes already closed and his thoughts drifting back across the years to his brothers, “I’ll see you all again.  Until then, stay safe and meet me in a dream of this hard land.”