Klaus von Richter
Vomher
((The following story occurred around late September 2015.))
It was supposed to have been happy. It was supposed to be reconciliation. Their trip to the Bavarian Forest was meant to be so many great, wondrous things, but in the end it was nothing - nothing but pain and heartbreak. They fell into a trap they could never be free of, and it was all his fault. If he hadn’t run off, this would have never happened. If he had trusted her, it would have never happened. If he believed in her, he would be hugging her instead of wishing he was hugging her.
Long feathers caressed the air as he soared to a field of wild grains. He wasn’t allowed to be human now. They were indebted, and it was all his fault. It hurt every fiber of his being to think about how much he single-handedly destroyed, but he couldn’t help himself. Everything was a painful reminder.
Awaiting the eldritch raven in the field was a large hagged woman reeking of old magics, her shrewd gaze locked on the bird that landed before her and bowed its head in subservience to the matron. Black breasts, long and disproportionate, hung sharp upon the woman’s bosom in a paradoxical satire of motherhood. No child would survive such shriveled teats. None ever could.
Klaus, the bowing bird, knew he had no other choice. It was because of him Angel was hurt, and it was because of him they were indebted. She forced him to do something he never thought he would have to say; he didn’t even have the heart to say it. Not then and not now, he could never find the words to describe how much Angel means to him and how much it tore at his heart.
But his heart was of no consequence. One of them had to pay the price.
As time wore on, the grains touched by the woman’s gown turned a deep black. They were sacred now, in a sense. They were blessed of the most vile taint, sacred in a way only nature’s dangers could be.
Before he could speak, before he could ask her bidding, she pointed behind him. Confused, the temporary sandman followed the long digit. Was this dismissal? Had he done something wrong?
Klaus had no time to contemplate the meaning of such a gesture, for soon an ancient, winded voice broke the silence.
“You will return to me when I summon; I have no use for you right now.” It was all she said, all that was given in clarification.
Was he truly free? No, he only wished. He was still hers, and he did not know how long such servitude would last. So much had already been done by her will. So many things Klaus was forced to do to appease. It was foolish to think she was truly through.
Though all of his thoughts of desolation and indebted servitude and all of the sorrow of his farewells, hope sprang forth.
She didn’t need him! Not right now! He was allowed to go! He was allowed to live!
As the faintest shimmer of excitement radiated from the frazzled feathered beast, the woman vanished. It was a swirl of wind and the rustle of the grain as it bent and swayed and she was gone. Nothing remained where once the spirit stood - nothing but blackness, grains forever altered. Nothing remained but the mutterkorn.
Powerful wings beat and the raven rushed, bouncing to the sky with fervor. He had to get back. He had to return. He had to see Angel again. He had to apologize, to let her know he was there, that he would always be there.
And he had to hurry.
It was supposed to have been happy. It was supposed to be reconciliation. Their trip to the Bavarian Forest was meant to be so many great, wondrous things, but in the end it was nothing - nothing but pain and heartbreak. They fell into a trap they could never be free of, and it was all his fault. If he hadn’t run off, this would have never happened. If he had trusted her, it would have never happened. If he believed in her, he would be hugging her instead of wishing he was hugging her.
Long feathers caressed the air as he soared to a field of wild grains. He wasn’t allowed to be human now. They were indebted, and it was all his fault. It hurt every fiber of his being to think about how much he single-handedly destroyed, but he couldn’t help himself. Everything was a painful reminder.
Awaiting the eldritch raven in the field was a large hagged woman reeking of old magics, her shrewd gaze locked on the bird that landed before her and bowed its head in subservience to the matron. Black breasts, long and disproportionate, hung sharp upon the woman’s bosom in a paradoxical satire of motherhood. No child would survive such shriveled teats. None ever could.
Klaus, the bowing bird, knew he had no other choice. It was because of him Angel was hurt, and it was because of him they were indebted. She forced him to do something he never thought he would have to say; he didn’t even have the heart to say it. Not then and not now, he could never find the words to describe how much Angel means to him and how much it tore at his heart.
But his heart was of no consequence. One of them had to pay the price.
As time wore on, the grains touched by the woman’s gown turned a deep black. They were sacred now, in a sense. They were blessed of the most vile taint, sacred in a way only nature’s dangers could be.
Before he could speak, before he could ask her bidding, she pointed behind him. Confused, the temporary sandman followed the long digit. Was this dismissal? Had he done something wrong?
Klaus had no time to contemplate the meaning of such a gesture, for soon an ancient, winded voice broke the silence.
“You will return to me when I summon; I have no use for you right now.” It was all she said, all that was given in clarification.
Was he truly free? No, he only wished. He was still hers, and he did not know how long such servitude would last. So much had already been done by her will. So many things Klaus was forced to do to appease. It was foolish to think she was truly through.
Though all of his thoughts of desolation and indebted servitude and all of the sorrow of his farewells, hope sprang forth.
She didn’t need him! Not right now! He was allowed to go! He was allowed to live!
As the faintest shimmer of excitement radiated from the frazzled feathered beast, the woman vanished. It was a swirl of wind and the rustle of the grain as it bent and swayed and she was gone. Nothing remained where once the spirit stood - nothing but blackness, grains forever altered. Nothing remained but the mutterkorn.
Powerful wings beat and the raven rushed, bouncing to the sky with fervor. He had to get back. He had to return. He had to see Angel again. He had to apologize, to let her know he was there, that he would always be there.
And he had to hurry.