袋鼠通訊的部落格

Day by day, his daily life seemed to repeat itself: woke up, breakfast, school, lunch, flat, dinner, homework, sleep; nothing more and nothing less. He was now used to the raven. Although the pile seemed to keep growing at a slow but steadily pace, it bothered him no more. The raven must have been busy collecting all these things when I was gone, he thought. Because whenever he was in the room, the raven would be there too, so he can only assume that it only flew out when he’s out too. Sometimes he also looked into the pile to see what the bird had gathered. Normally there was nothing more than glasses or ring-pulls, still shined more or less but all half covered in dust that he can hardly tell where those things were from. But once, he saw a small locket along with the other stuffs. He gently pulled it out without disturbing the raven. It seemed to be made of gold, but worn by age that the decoration on it could hardly be seen. And inside of it was a fainted picture of a young girl. So young and pretty, but already gone. He couldn’t help but feel sad when he looked at it, as if he was looking at a fragment of a long lost dream. He tossed it back to the pile.
He almost didn’t tell anyone about this. First of all, who is going to believe it? A raven in his flat? He wouldn’t buy it either if someone came tell him such a tale. But just for once, he couldn’t bear keeping it all alone, so he went to a bar, after several shot of whiskey he began to tell his story to a guy sat next to him. “I’ve got a raven living in my room.” He said to the guy, who was clearly as drunk as him. “Wasn’t that just bloody great,” said the drunkard. “Leave those ravens in the tower or the English empire shall fall.” Not quite knowing what the drunkard was saying, he still managed to finish the entire story of his, even after the drunkard fail unconsciously on the table. Leaving the bar, he felt somehow relieved, but the emptiness still remained inside his heart.
One day, he tried to find a definition for him and the raven. “Two total stranger accidentally got stuck in a break-down elevator” seemed to be the most suitable way he could put. And just like what people do under such circumstance, he started to talk to the raven. He took out some letters from his girlfriend when they first started to date and read them to the raven (I missed you so much, though I know that we’ll be seeing each other soon this weekend, I can’t help but feel lonely now), he talked about how they first met (At a party of a friend they both know, he accidentally stepped on her toes), and then their first date (It was raining, but none of them seemed to care about it, and they bought a pair rings). To his surprise, the raven seemed to be listening to what he’s saying. Though just slightly, but he could tell that the raven is turning its attention toward him as he went along with his memories. Therefore, though somehow ridiculous, he kept telling the raven everything about them. The more he told, the more he could recall out about them, even something so trivial that he never thought he would remember. He could retrace all the tiny detail of her face; every small wrinkle around the corner of her lips when she smiled, the way she talk, the felt of her soft skin… He suddenly realized how much he missed her and how lonely he was now. He wept silently.