Read by Amal El-Mohtar
Originally published in Interfictions
Exactly one year before she saw the raven, Brenna began to dream of
flying. Sometimes she was in a plane, sometimes she was in a bird,
sometimes she was just herself–surrounded by sky, clouds, and
too-thin-to-breathe air. In the dark, in the light, over cities and
oceans and fields, she flew. Every night for a year.
Then, on the twelfth day of the twelfth month, the dreams changed.
They ended with a crash and fire and the feeling of falling. Most
nights she almost didn’t wake up in time.
Exactly one year from the night the dreams began, Brenna struggled out
of sleep, the phantom smell of burning metal still in her nose. She
reached out for Scott–he was not there. He was never there. He had
never been there. She fell back onto her pillows and groaned.
Another dream of flying, another reaching out for Scott; she wished
she could stop doing both.
Rated PG: Contains Death, Life, and Ravens.