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The black raven
He flew all around the town, looking for something that caught his eye.
A large pure golden house set upon a steep hill, alone.
The raven pushed his wings against the thick breeze, navigating his way to the gold house with ease.
The house appeared to be open, so he flew right in.
Every golden wall he passed, was slowly drenched in thick black paint that radiated from the darkness of the bird.
The whole golden house, that is as pure as a flower, was soon to be tainted by the mass of pitch black infinity.
Through he flew, sqwarking as he zipped round corners and under tables.
He wanted to be heard, to be seen for what great power he possesses, darkness.
He knew he could destroy whatever he please, igniting everything pure, in rich black flames.
By the time he'd finished flying through the house, every inch of it was matte black. So he sat on an empty countertop with pride, knowing he'd just ruined the most pure of things.
He knew he was bad, but he wasn't all bad.
The flowers in the yard, that had been grown to be yellow, wilted petal by petal. The green grass turned a soggy brown, and the trees sagged and drooped. Everything lacked life, but not darkness. That was to forever stay.
The raven was full of knowledge of the darkness, as he believes he's seen it all. He believes that nothing should ever be pure, so he takes that from said 'pure' things. He'd try to warn people about the danger light and happiness possesses, but he eventually realised it was impossible because who would listen to a silly old bird?
The house wasn't yet complete, oh how it was far from it. The raven wanted forever end his spree of darkness spreading, and put himself to an end. So he spread his wings for the final time, and flew into one of the black homes walls. A large explosion of a thick black cloud engulfed the entire house for only a few moments before all cleared again. Now the raven lies in the walls of that house, forever keeping himself attached to it.
The house slowly withered away, as all the purity surrounding it was too much, and there was no raven any further to continue the spread of darkness.
It turned out in the end, that the raven had let so much darkness consume him, that he couldn't see the good anymore, he couldn't see what was pure or happy. He turned on the world for being so bright, unlike him. He was unique for his ways, but selfish for only ever living for himself, and not trying to see the good in the world or people.
A large pure golden house set upon a steep hill, alone.
The raven pushed his wings against the thick breeze, navigating his way to the gold house with ease.
The house appeared to be open, so he flew right in.
Every golden wall he passed, was slowly drenched in thick black paint that radiated from the darkness of the bird.
The whole golden house, that is as pure as a flower, was soon to be tainted by the mass of pitch black infinity.
Through he flew, sqwarking as he zipped round corners and under tables.
He wanted to be heard, to be seen for what great power he possesses, darkness.
He knew he could destroy whatever he please, igniting everything pure, in rich black flames.
By the time he'd finished flying through the house, every inch of it was matte black. So he sat on an empty countertop with pride, knowing he'd just ruined the most pure of things.
He knew he was bad, but he wasn't all bad.
The flowers in the yard, that had been grown to be yellow, wilted petal by petal. The green grass turned a soggy brown, and the trees sagged and drooped. Everything lacked life, but not darkness. That was to forever stay.
The raven was full of knowledge of the darkness, as he believes he's seen it all. He believes that nothing should ever be pure, so he takes that from said 'pure' things. He'd try to warn people about the danger light and happiness possesses, but he eventually realised it was impossible because who would listen to a silly old bird?
The house wasn't yet complete, oh how it was far from it. The raven wanted forever end his spree of darkness spreading, and put himself to an end. So he spread his wings for the final time, and flew into one of the black homes walls. A large explosion of a thick black cloud engulfed the entire house for only a few moments before all cleared again. Now the raven lies in the walls of that house, forever keeping himself attached to it.
The house slowly withered away, as all the purity surrounding it was too much, and there was no raven any further to continue the spread of darkness.
It turned out in the end, that the raven had let so much darkness consume him, that he couldn't see the good anymore, he couldn't see what was pure or happy. He turned on the world for being so bright, unlike him. He was unique for his ways, but selfish for only ever living for himself, and not trying to see the good in the world or people.
