by Abra Ebner
We talked for a few more hours and well into the night. The storm raged on outside, racking the house with all its might. Unable to sleep, we talked about the things they would do after I was gone, after I had used whatever power this prophecy had in store for me. They talked about rebuilding, and politics, knowing full well that it was one of the things that had gone wrong with the world.
As the light began to return outside, Sarah yawned and the conversation reached an ending point.
I yawned, too, finding it now contagious. “Well, I better get back. I need to find this prophecy that the old man told me about.” I stood, leaving my now-cold mug on a nearby table, still full of lake water.
“Will we see you again?” Sarah grappled my arm.
“I’m sure you will,” I reassured her. And I would. I could never bear leaving them without a goodbye.
Sarah smiled and Scott gave me a hug, leading me to the door. We stood there staring at each other for a moment, hearing a crowd of voices outside.
I pressed my brows together. “What’s that?”
Sarah tilted her head, moving to the sidelight and pulling back the drape. She gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth as she let the drape fall back into place. Scott grabbed the handle of the door, and as we opened it, Scott and I gasped as well. The tree outside had nearly doubled in size now, surrounded by neighbors, all staring at it as though it were God himself.
“Look at it.” Sarah’s eyes were fixed, the tree reflecting in her pupils.
The tree was even more brilliant than it had been when I had given it life. Big pink flowers bloomed all over every branch, the leaves a vibrant green. Whatever power I had managed to gain over the past few months, was much more powerful than anything I had experienced before. What was I becoming? I looked down at my hands, remembering how I’d thrown Edgar across the room with little effort. I thought about what Nicholas had told me, about how I was the last, The One. Perhaps I had gathered the power of all my kind and all the souls killed off by Matthew. Their empty shells had been left to roam the earth, looking for a place to hide and live. That place had become me.
The wind still howled, though the tree stood still. “It’s a sign. I have to do this.” I reassured myself. My fists were clenched at my sides.
Scott patted me on my back. “You will, Elle.” His gaze never left the tree.
I stepped out onto the porch, walking down the path. The crowd parted as I approached, wondering who I was and why this tree, in front of this house, had bloomed so beautifully.
The crowd whispered around me as I placed my hand on the trunk of the tree, its branches reaching toward me out of appreciation. The bark shook like a wet dog. “I will be back for all of you.” I leaned close to the tree and whispered before releasing my hand and walking away down the street. The crowd watched me as I turned into a raven, spreading my wings as I turned and looked back at them. The crowd stared in silence, their hands at their sides in amazement. I allowed them to witness it out of hope. One of the last miracles they would see here, and a symbol of their last hope for freedom: the white raven.
ALONE
Edgar
I sat in the quiet of the library, my hands folded on my lap and my eyes staring forward. I hadn’t felt this alone since Estella had been taken from me, since before I had ever met Edgar A. Poe. I wish I knew what to do, I wish I had someone that could see where I was coming from, and most importantly, where I needed to go.
I heard a dull ticking and my mind wandered to the sound, wondering where it was coming from. Taking a moment to leave my worries behind, I opened my ears, listening intently to the sound. ‘Tick, Tick, Tick.’ I leaned down toward the chest we used as a coffee table that sat right in front of me. Putting my ear to the wood, I listened again. ‘TICK, TICK, TICK.’
Surprised, I brushed all the books off the lid of the chest and to the floor. They landed with a heavy crash. I fiddled with the old lock, unfastening the metal hook and placing my palms against the wood. As I lifted the lid, the ticking sound became clear, no longer muffled by the thick mahogany.
“There you are.” I lifted a blanket, uncovering a collection of clocks that had been placed inside. When I had come home, I was not surprised to see them gone. Elle had always hated my obsession with time, and considering all the uproar since I’d been back, I hadn’t bothered to look for them.
I looked to the wall where they used to hang, seeing the spot was now occupied by Elle’s obsession: the painting. I stared into the faces of our happy group, remembering everything and how far all of this had come. Elle had known about the end then, kept it as our little secret. In that, she knew we would be safe.
I never wanted to believe in the prophecy, and I always doubted it could ever come true, especially when she had been taken from me. I thought that was the end of it. I thought I’d never see her again. I no longer trusted magic after that, but it seems that now, my faith has returned.
I have lived many lives, each one spanning a decade of time, each a reinvention of myself. This new life felt strange, though, the first where I have been forced to hand over the control and give it all to Elle, instead. It was a hard transition for me, but the last true test of my will.
I wiped my mind clear and turned back to the clocks. I carefully looked through the stack, remembering where I had gotten each and treating them with a care Elle hadn’t. Toward the bottom of the pile, one clock caught my eye and I slid it from the stack. I brought it to the top before taking it in my hands and pulling it to my face. I sat back and admired it, watching as the second hand ticked in a counterclockwise direction. With a small smile on my face, I remembered Edgar Poe for a second time. He had made me this clock as a sort of joke, saying that it was the one clock that would defy time all together. “Put it next to all your other clocks,” he had said.
I jumped then.
“Here you will stay in the same time forever!” A voice in the corner of the library finished my thoughts.
Shocked, I looked up but saw nothing. “Edgar?” Was I hearing things? “Edgar?” I repeated. I knew the voice well but could not believe what I’d heard. I cursed myself, blaming it on stress and loneliness.
An insane but light laughter filled the room then. “You know me too well, dear friend!”
For a second time I scanned the room, still seeing nothing. There was a crash from the railing above and my eyes shot to the source. I heard the voice again.
“Blast!”
My mouth hung open, my hands on the clock becoming numb. I tried to blink away his image a few times but it didn’t budge. “Edgar? How did you—”
He brushed himself off as he stood, looking down on me from over the rail. “I was trying to make that a little more graceful, but—I failed.”
I was frozen on the spot, still doubting this was really true. “How are you here? You were, dead.”
The aged figure of Edgar threw his hands in the air like a crazy old coot. “Oh, everything is in an uproar. No one notices when an old retired man like me leaves Heaven anymore.”
He threw his hands down, circling the upper platform and making his way to the ladder. He struggled as he turned himself around, walking backwards down each rung, having a difficult time finding his footing. Once on the ground, he took one triumphant breath and exhaled.
“There’s nothing quite like the air of Earth, eh? Makes me wish I could breathe again!” He walked toward me with a little trot in his step, his wings dangling from his back. “Come on, then! Stand and give your old pal a hug!”
I was still stunned as he yanked me from the couch, the clock falling to the ground with a crash. The face cracked. He slammed me against his chest and I grunted. I suddenly found myself engulfed by the smell of burnt bacon and strawberry jam, tickling my nostrils and making my stomach growl with jealousy. “Edgar, I—” My voice was muffled by his wool coat.
“I heard you talking about me, and I figured twice in one day means you are all out of sorts! What’s wrong, my litt
le raven?” He shook me. “Why so doom and gloom?”
I pulled myself out of his grasp, not able to handle another whiff of bacon. “I uh—well.” I looked outside. “It is sort of doom and gloom, so—”
“Meh!” Edgar bellowed, throwing his hands in the air yet again.
I jumped, forgetting how eccentric and socially inept he really was.
He scratched his head, causing his pitch black hair to frizz further than it already had. “Don’t mean to scare you there, old boy, but I frankly don’t care about the weather! I figure I’ve lived much longer than I ever should have, what will come is just another beginning to me.” He stood tall, hooking his fingers into the lapel of his jacket with pride.
I laughed, finally giving in and enjoying his positive outlook on the situation.
“So—” He looked around, rolling onto his toes and then back onto his heels. “Where is that marvelous creation you call Elle? Oh, and maybe that funny little boy, what was his name—” his face twisted. “Ah yes! Scott.”
I tilted my head in confusion. “Scott? When did you meet him?” I was mildly surprised.
A delighted smile grew across Edgar’s face. “Oh, what a wonderful specimen he was! A real dreamer. Right there in my very house, dreaming about me, none the less!” He stood again on his toes and leaned forward in excitement, his eyes crazed.
I let out a sharp grunt. “Scott? A wonderful specimen? I think you may have the wrong kid.”
“No, no. Where is he?” His eyes were wide and his teeth glimmering like a greedy dog.
“Well, I’m not sure.” I had more important things to worry about than the whereabouts of some mere human.
“Oh.” Edgar’s face sank for a moment before perking back up. “And Elle?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get me started.” I turned away from him, picking the broken pieces of clock off the floor.
Edgar’s mouth curled into a half smile. “A lover’s quarrel? How delightful. I must say, I do miss those.”
I snorted. “I guess you could say it’s a quarrel.” I was beginning to grow annoyed. “She left.”
Edgar turned his head, glaring at me with one eye. “You lied to her, didn’t you? Oh! It’s the oldest one in the book! Never lie to a woman, mind you.”
He walked away toward the shelf, shuffling his feet along the floor and fidgeting with the books.
His energy was making me tense. “I suppose.”
“Well,” he barked, twisting back to face me. “You should apologize. The whole world is in an uproar over her. She is The One after all. Such a wonderful thing!” he sang. His eyes glazed over in thought.
“Why are you here again?” I was done playing games.
Edgar laughed. “Oh, well. I was sent here to collect you.”
“Collect me? Why? But I haven’t even finished—”
“Well, time does not wait for procrastinators.” He shook his finger at me before turning to look at the bookshelf, running his hand along the spines. “Trust me, I know.”
“Who says?” I demanded, letting my irritation come through in my tone of voice.
“One of the god’s! That really bratty looking woman, gorgeous, but boy she’s a real—”
“Why her? What’s her problem?” I was enraged, remembering the god, Ariana.
“My guess is she’s jealous of Elle. Doesn’t want her to succeed.” Edgar shrugged. “She was awful spiteful about the whole situation, really. Dreadfully out of sorts, that one is.”
I lifted my brows. “I know what you mean,” I muttered under my breath. “Doesn’t she know that by keeping me here, that’s actually doing more harm to Elle’s advancement? Wouldn’t she want me to stay, then?”
Edgar turned to me, raising one brow. “Really? Why? Oh, this is a regular ol’ mix-up, isn’t it?” His black eyes glittered.
“It doesn’t matter why.” I thought hard. “What happens if I just don’t go with you?”
Edgar shrugged. “She’ll want to kill you? I mean, I don’t know. I did my part, so…”
I knew why Ariana was jealous. It was because she liked me. When Elle was taken, Ariana had tried to take her place with little success. She was the one I tried to love but couldn’t, and she never got over that. She could never let go.
I pursed my lips. “She’s just trying to dig her claws in one last time. Ignore her.” I blew it off.
Edgar jumped, throwing me off subject. “Oh, look! It is one of my books!” Apparently he had dropped the subject, too.
“Will you stay for a while?” I added, being polite, though I wasn’t sure how much I could handle. I was now quickly regretting my earlier statements about missing him.
Edgar pulled the book from the shelf with delight, opening to a random page and reciting the words under his breath with a childish look on his face. When he wasn’t talking he hummed, and when he wasn’t humming, some other form of noise managed to escape his body.
“Edgar? Did you hear me?” I took one step toward him, trying to discreetly fan the flatulent air.
He waved me away. “Oh, yes, yes.”
He slammed the book shut and I jumped.
“Do you have any cookies?” His eyes got wide.
I pressed my brows together, wondering if he had indeed lost his mind after all this time. “Perhaps.”
“That would be lovely. I’ll take five, with a glass of cream, please.” He began to sing now, trotting to a nearby chair to sit. “I’ll just wait for Elle’s return, then.”
“Well, you may be waiting a while,” I mumbled under my breath, walking toward the kitchen. Luckily, he hadn’t heard me.
I exhaled as I walked into the warm room, heat radiating from the fire. I ran my hand along the copper counter as I made my way to the cabinet where Elle hid all her sugary snacks. The very place where I, too, used to hide my sweets that were now no longer something I could enjoy. I rummaged through the boxes, finding half eaten cookies in each. As I rummaged some more, I thought I heard a sound so I stopped, listening with my hand inside a bag of mint chocolate rounds. As I stood there, hearing nothing but my own breath, I then stopped breathing altogether, listening more intently as the feeling in my soul began to burn.
Elle was back.
I dropped the bag of cookies on the counter, abandoning the mess and rushing toward the front hall. I did not yet know what I would say, but I had to see her. Feeling this way was beginning to make my chest grow tight with emotion, and I hated it.
My eyes met Elle’s and she froze. For a minute we just stood there, like two statues in the yard. I watched her breathe, measuring her emotions and wondering what she would say. She was soaking wet, the rain dripping from sodden strands of silky white hair. The water glistened on her skin, lighting her eyes. I was surprised by how much I already missed her face, my need for her reminding me of our inevitable love.
“Elle, I—”
She pursed her lips and turned then, running up the stairs and leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her. I watched as she stormed away, my eyes never leaving her. The door to her room slammed shut and I winced, my shoulders sinking as I finally looked to the floor.
“What was that? Was that, Elle?” Edgar shuffled from the library.
“Shut up, Edgar.” I turned to him, fury burning in my eyes.
Edgar did not react the way I wanted him to as he jumped with delight. “Oh, anger. I love your anger.”
I gave him a strange look, giving up on him. I shook my head and let my shoulders relax.
Edgar stopped smiling and stood tall, smoothing his coat in an attempt to collect himself, looking as though he had finally realized how crazy he seemed. “Do you want me to talk to her?”
I brought my hand to my forehead, smoothing my hair back. “Sure, wouldn’t hurt, I guess.” I let my hand fall limp at my side.
“Perfect!” Edgar sneered and I wondered what it meant.
“Just don’t—” I tried to apply a few ground rules, but before I could say another wor
d, Edgar was already halfway up the stairs, a strain of laughter trailing after him.
“He is so weird,” I uttered, turning to resume my position on the sofa in the library where I could stare into space and wallow ever deeper into my misery.
PROPHECY
Estella
There was a knock on the door of my room and I was quick to assume who it was. “Go away, Edgar.”
“Oh, alright,” a voice replied, but it wasn’t what I’d expected.
Trying to think and recognize the tone, I quickly stood from the blue velvet chair that faced my bed. “Wait!” I yelled.
“Oh—I. Uh—yes?” There was a shuffling outside in the hall.
“Edgar?” I asked, slowly walking toward the door and placing my hands against the wood, my ear just inches away.
“Yes! My dear. It is me!”
I screamed, launching backwards as the voice bellowed through the crack and into my ear like a trumpet. I fell to the ground as the door handle twisted, opening a crack. A head popped in then, and my shock turned to happiness. “Oh, Edgar!”
“Elle, darling!” Edgar Poe swung the door wide open with his hands in the air, his fingers splayed.
I crawled up off the floor and jumped into his arms. “Oh, Edgar! What are you doing here?”
Edgar laughed as he spun me. “I’m here to help you, my dear.”
I leaned away. “To help me? With what?”
Edgar laughed and clapped his hands together as he dropped me. “Oh, this is so delightful!” He took a deep breath and regrouped. “Well, I told Edgar, down there,” he pointed at the floor, “that I was here to take him away, but really I am here to help you find your prophecy,” he crooned.
“My prophecy? How did you—”
Edgar put his hand up to my mouth, silencing me, crushing lips against my teeth. “I was sent here by that old looking god, Santa Claus.”
“You mean, Nicholas?” I snorted.
“Yes, yes. Saint Nick!”
“I hardly consider him a saint,” I chortled.