Realms of the Raven - Erotic Romance Author Maura Anderson

Delayed again. My close friend and writing mentor had give two of her beloved cats into the arms of Bast this week and, though they were not my own pets, my heart grieves for her and the pain she’s going through. It left me rather adrift and unable to put my mind to writing.

Sorry for the delay but hope you enjoy the flash.

Oh - and an interesting tidbit… As I was writing the last part of this flash, my seven year old son came in from our yard and brought be a beautiful feather he found. It’s either owl or hawk. :)

(Archives are on the website, if you want to read the offerings of past weeks)

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Spirit Messenger
(c) 2008 by Maura Anderson

At least it was a weekend. That alone was something to give thanks for, given his current exhaustion. Lately it seemed that no matter how much he worked, how exhausted he became, he lay awake most of the night. The tossing and turning had long since grown old and now it both pissed him off and worried him.

Dreams interrupted what little sleep he managed. Images of lightning, thunder mixed with the sound of battles and the smell of blood and death. Something was calling to him, screaming out to him, pleading with him. He knew he was the one supposed to answer but he couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do.

Despite it the early hour, he’d just awoken in a cold sweat, pulse pounding and panting as if he’d run a marathon. There was nothing for it then but to get up. Try as he might, he couldn’t ever get back to sleep when the dreams woke him like that.

Chayton tugged on the worn sweatpants he’d tossed on the foot of the bed last night then headed through the great room toward the kitchen. Maybe there was still some coffee left from yesterday. He needed something to clear his mind and allow him to regain focus on the here and now.

Cup of lukewarm coffee in hand, he went out onto the small deck off the log cabin’s kitchen and collapsed into one of the sturdy pine chairs he’d made last winter. The deck’s boards were slightly rough on his bare feet, reminding him that he needed to do some maintenance on it before winter.

Maybe he was going nuts? His friends and family had told him that his isolated lifestyle wasn’t good for him. Of course they also thought he’d never be able to make a living with his rustic furniture business either. He’d proven that wrong about a year ago.

He drained the last of the coffee and set the mug on the thick table, then leaned back and closed his eyes. The sun warmed his skin and relaxed him. The one good thing about his native heritage was that he didn’t burn easily—which was good, considering how much he seemed to crave the sun lately. His gut slowly unclenched and he let his thoughts wander.

Chay seemed to drift in the sounds of nature. The soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. The chittering of the raccoons eating below his bird feeder. He was happy here in his woods and really didn’t miss the chaotic feed of the city at all. He might miss his parents and friends, but the city was nothing but toxic to him anymore.

A raspy, screech startled him out of his reverie. Chay’s eyes snapped open and he saw a huge red-tailed hawk perching on the deck’s railing. Damn, that’s one big bird. He’d seen quite a few of the distinctive raptors flying and circling around his house and shop and always paused to watch them.

This one cocked its head, looking directly at him with a steady gaze that seemed to see deep down into his soul. It seemed to be waiting. Expecting something.

“Umm. Hi.” Damn he felt stupid talking to a bird, no matter how intelligent it appeared.

The hawk opened its beak and let out another screech. Damn, something inside him seemed to come alert. The hawk’s screech meant something but he couldn’t grasp what. Somewhere inside him a memory struggled to come to life.

“I don’t understand.” He held his calloused hands out. “I hear sounds like that in my dream, too. Are you trying to tell me something? Or maybe I’ve dreamed all of this.”

The hawk ruffled its wings and looked at him again. Then it spread its wings and flapped from the deck railing to the back of the other deck chair.

He’d never seen a hawk or any other raptor this close. His breath seemed to catch in his throat at the sight. But the sense that the bird was trying to tell him something—something important—only grew stronger.

Another loud screech—this one sounded annoyed—then the red-tailed hawk shook itself like a dog after a bath. He couldn’t seem to remove his eyes from the golden eyes of the raptor but it began to blur and shimmer before a light flashed brightly, forcing him to close his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, a woman sat on the chair opposite him. Golden eyes and rich, burgundy hair made him think of the hawk. Her naked body made him think of something else entirely.