Karma's a bitch.

It didn't take a genius to realize this–even Kindergarteners realized the reason their parents found out about those cheetos stuffed under their bed was because they pulled Suzie's hair during recess. Of course–Kindergarteners weren't typically aware of the phrase "karma's a bitch" specifically. They probably knew the more kid friendly one–"what goes around comes around."

Technically only the second statement is true, because what goes around does come around, but it's not really Karma that's a bitch. Humans seem to like blaming their faults and flaws on inhuman concepts. You probably do it all the time–have you ever cursed god for stubbing your own toe? Swore to some unknown diety for burning your tongue on too hot of coffee? Insulted some all powerful being that has to be responsible for you getting fired–because obviously it wasn't the stapler wars you were having with Jeremy in accounting instead of working?

Yeah, see? Humans do it all the time, and that's not such a bad thing, except that then people like me have to deal with the real assholes–all those other worldy being you guys seem so set on pissing off.

Karma might be a bitch, but you're only getting the little drops that spill out of the gigantic tub you're creating. Everytime you mutter "I swear to god–" or blame something not-earthly for your own problems, you create a little being that takes all that blame. Except you're human, so nothing you create can take responibility for anything, so instead of just sucking it up it gets insulted that you're blaming the fact that your shoddily trained cat tore up your curtains again on them. The more people who believe in the lie and then blame this new creation, the more mad they get.

Then someone like me gets hired to make sure these guys don't destroy all of human kind. Why aren't we educating people instead of just solving your problems silently and letting it all fester until it ineviably boils over? No idea honestly. In fact publishing this is probably going to get me fired or something, but whatever–it's not like humans believe shit like this anyways.

"Is it cool if I sit with you?"

"Uh, sure?"

"Thanks! I'm Aditya, what's your name?"

"Alice."

"It's nice to meet you, Alice! I'm new in town and I've been trying to introduce myself to people who look lonely and-"

"Did I look lonely?"

"Well, you're sitting alone so I thought maybe you'd be lonely...?"

"I was sitting alone because I like to be alone."

"Well, should I leave?"

"Don't phrase it like that, geeze. Now I feel like I've kicked a puppy."

"You say that like you've kicked a puppy before."

"It was an accident, I was little and couldn't control my urges."

"That doesn't sound like an accident, Alice."

"It's a little soon for criticism, Aditya."

"I love the song that's playing right now, don't you? Great vibes."

"I can't hear anything besides your crushing need to relate to me."

"I feel like you've put up a wall."

"No, my face always looks like this. Why didn't you talk to one of the other girls sitting alone in here?"

"You looked lonely. You are lonely."

"So what? Did you think we'd be compatible as friends just because we're both lonely?"

"Lonely people should have companions."

"I'd rather be an island than a fish in a shallow sea of fake friends."

"That's really poetic."

"Thanks, I've had this debate before- wait, are you endearing yourself with compliments?"

"Is it working?"

"Aditya, have you ever tried not being friends with someone?"

"What?"

"Have you ever not changed yourself to get along with someone?"

"I'm accommodating, not rude."

"It's not rude to be yourself."

"People should be amicable, and you're not being amicable."

"I don't try to be."

"You should, Alice. You wouldn't be lonely if you were nicer."

"And you, Aditya, wouldn't be lonely if you liked yourself."

Focus on me.

Her eyes big as the moon and full as the sun.

Focus. On. Me.

She shook. Fingers pulling through her hair.

Grey, you need to focus on me. You are chaos. Now focus, or I will make you focus.

I had not quite pulled her through to our side of the parallel. All this violent, directionless energy was tying her to her thoughts, and I could not help her to find her physical location. My mind had found her’s easily. We were sitting, knees touching, on opposite sides of a train car. The cabin was closet-like in size and lit only by candle. A stark contrast to where our bodies sat. Though we still sat knee to knee, the bright light and the white of my lab coat were the antithesis of the frenzied train ride. Bullet proof glass surrounded us, small speakers methodically stationed to allow for sound to completely envelop anyone inside the glass room. Two techs in the same white coat as myself stood at the door, ready to enter should I feel endangered.

On the train, I focused on Grey. I lit a cigarette, making sure to blow the smoke away from her wan face.

Glazed expression, hands trembling.

I need you to focus. We are going to get off the train soon.

Her head shook in reflexive disagreement. Fingers, fidgeting against her right leg.

It’s not optional. Look at my eyes.

A shadow cast across the window, and her eyes darted to catch the movement.

Grey, focus on me.

Her gaze made the slow crawl back to my face. And I held her eyes, irises gleaming with soon to fall tears. I sat calm and still. I flicked my cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath my right boot. Smoke curled softly off the ground, bringing the smell of burnt polyester. And her breathing slowed.

Focus on me.

And her hand began to reach for my own.

And the weight of the room shifted. The change in atmosphere derailed us. Men in white entered from the door to the cabin.

Her eyes, wide open, deep and full as the ocean.

Her hands pressed against her ears.

Fear pouring off her skin.

And screaming. Shrill, never-ending screams. Her mouth flung wide. A noise somehow deep and high pitched all at once. The windows burst. Shards of glass flying in all directions. I watched, impassive as the men in white tried desperately to save themselves. But the caterwaul burst them as thoroughly as the glass. Eyes and ears bled. Hemorrhaging stomachs and bursting veins. The skin around the eyes all broken blood vessels with bruised throats and limbs.

In the lab, I lit another cigarette. A cool voice played through the overhead speakers.

Did it work? Are you ok?

I bent down making a show of it. The question ludicrous. I checked pulses, though one could clearly see from the amount of blood that I was the only survivor in the room.

Aside from the fact that you sent these two in to fetch me for no explicable reason that I can see, the small detail of this young lady still being lost in her own mind, and the massacre of blood lying on the ground in front of me...we’re ok.

M: I've read that book. Did you kill the Dragon yet?

Y: No, but I'm going to beat it this time. Starting again on Monday...Can I get you a Latte?

M: No, I'm trying to stick to green tea. Less calories and caffeine. Got to treat our bodies like a temple, right?

Y: You're crazy. My temple needs caffeine and cream to function. They're my friends.

M: I guess there are worse friends to have. Is anbody going to stop with you?

Y: My wife says she will, but I don't know. Last time she gave in after 2 days, so I think I'm gonna have to do it without her.

M: That's going to be hard. I haven't been able to stop, even with my wife's constant nagging. Maybe we can help each other.

Y: Not sure I can help, but it would be nice to have a friend in the battle.

M: Wanna meet here at the same time next week to share our war stories?

Y: I'll look forward to it.

“I will never be weak again.” Robert says.

Robert is a tall man, a bit muscular and bald. He towers over another man who’s on his knees, bleeding from his head and terrified. They’re in a hotel room, the place is completely trashed.

“Please… don’t do this. I’m begging you!” the scared man whimpers.

Robert cracks his knuckles, there are rings on his hand. A total of five. Each ring has a different colored gemstone and strange tribal looking designs on the trim.

“I’m sorry but you need to die. I need your power.”

The scared man also has a ring on. It has a red gemstone and designs on the trim.

“Please don’t! If I could take it off I’d give it to you!”

“I know you would.” Robert says with a friendly smile.

Suddenly Robert latches his hand around the man’s throat and lifts him up. He squirms and gurgles for oxygen.

“Goodbye.” Robert says, and crushes the man’s throat.

The man’s body goes stiff and his arms fall flat to his sides. The ring on his right hand falls off his finger and hits the ground. Robert drops the dead man. He kneels down and picks up the ring.

“Another one to my collection” he tells himself as he slides the ring onto his left hand.

Robert stands up. He looks at both hands. They’re stained with blood. He then notices a large cut on his right forearm. Robert focuses on the cut. The ring on his right hand with a white gemstone begins to glow. The cut on his forearm begins to heal and fade away slowly. His wound disappears. Robert closes his right fist and inspects the ring with the white gemstone. There’s sorrow in his eyes. He walks over to the bed and sits. He relieves a sigh.

“I’ll be strong… for you.” He mutters.

Memories of a beautiful woman appears in his head. She was gorgeous with luscious brown hair, green eyes and a smile that would melt anyone’s heart. Andrea was her name. Robert’s wife.

A year ago, Robert and Andrea have made a decision to live together. After learning she was pregnant, Robert proposed to her and gave her a ring he found. After cleaning it and making it look brand new, Robert proposed to Andrea on her birthday. She fell in love with it. The ring had a nice white gem on top with strange designs on the trim. It glowed when she first put it on. It was unique, something she never seen. However this ring was more than unique. The two lovers learn quickly just how special it was when Andrea was cutting up food for lunch one day. She accidently slices her finger, leaving a very deep wound. Blood is everywhere. Robert freaks out and goes to fetch some bandages. When he returns, he prepares to help close up her wound until suddenly, it begins to miraculously close up. It’s healing by itself instantly! He sees his wife’s face in shock. They can’t understand what just happen. They both notice her ring was glowing too. They at first decided to ignore it, thinking maybe they were just too tired. But as days went by, Andrea couldn’t help but think about that day. She couldn’t ignore it. So Andrea did something that completely scared Robert. She grabs a knife and stabs her own hand. She yells in pain.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Robert yells.

Andrea pulls the knife out and blood is all over her.

“We need to get you to a hospital!”

“Wait don’t! Just watch.” Andrea speaks. She shows her wound to Robert and to his disbelief, her open wound begins to heal just like the last time. He’s at a loss for words.

Andrea smiles and holds her belly. “Honey it’s okay. See? I’m okay, and the baby is okay. This ring you gave me. It’s a gift from God!”

Robert smiles. That ring truly did heal her. It was a miracle.

Months past, Robert and Andrea receive grim news on their last doctor’s visit. Andrea is already seven months pregnant, but learns from the doctor her baby has a high chance of dying during birth. Not only will their unborn son die, there’s a chance she will die too. It breaks both of their hearts.

“Honey… we have to terminate him.” Robert says, pain in his voice.

“No! I refuse!” she yells at him.

“But you could die!!”

Andrea locks eyes with her husband, tears running down her face.

“No… I won’t do it. I can save him.”

“What?”

Andrea points to her ring. “This blessing from God. If it can heal me, it can heal our son! I know it can!”

“Were not sure if it’ll work.” Robert claims.

Andrea turns her back on him. “I have to try. Please…”

Robert is torn. He doesn’t want to lose his son, but he doesn’t want to lose his wife either. He embraces her. “I’m sorry. We’ll go through with it. I just don’t want to lose you.”

Andrea faces him and smiles. “You won’t.”

There’s a loud knock. Robert snaps from his memories. The knocking becomes more aggressive.

“Police! Open up!” a man’s voice comes from the other side of the door.

Robert stands up from the bed. He takes a look around the trashed hotel room. The dead body of the man he killed lays there in a puddle of blood. The knocking continues.

“Last warning. Open up or we’ll break in.”

Robert cracks his neck. He opens up both of his hands. Two of the rings he has on begin to glow. Suddenly fire begins to emit from his left hand while at the same time, ice begins to form out his right hand. He faces the hotel door.

“We’re coming in!” The voice yells.

Robert closes his eyes. He looks back at his memories once more. Andrea’s image appears in his mind. First that beautiful face of hers that was full of life. Then the horrid pale one she had when he found her hanging in their bedroom. Andrea survived the birth, but their son didn’t. It emotionally destroyed both of them. However, it devastated Andrea, leading her to suicide. Maybe because she used the ring’s healing power as much as she can to try and save their son. But it didn’t work. It could heal her, but not their son. The amount of guilt she must have felt. He was dead in the womb before he was even born. Robert did everything to bring her back. When he found her, he desperately tried cutting the rope with a knife. During his attempt to do this, Robert ended up cutting himself. Blood was everywhere but he ignored the pain and cut the rope. He cried. Shook her and hope she was still breathing. That’s when he notice her ring was gone. He quickly looked around for it and finds it on the floor.

“Come on Andrea don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me!” he hysterically cries as he slides the ring onto her finger.

“Live dammit! Live!!”

The ring does nothing. In one last desperate attempt, Robert puts the ring on. He feels a sharp pain throughout his body when he puts it on but ignores it. He lays his hand on her chest.

“Please come back to me! Please!!”

The ring’s white gemstone begins to glow. Robert smiles. But then that smile fades when he notices the long cut he had begins to heal and disappear.

“No! No!! Not me! Her!!! Heal her!!!” he yells.

Robert lays there on the floor; crying, powerless and holding Andrea. He couldn’t save her.

Robert now stands in the middle of the hotel room. Three more bodies lay on the ground. Two burned to a crisp, while the other completely frozen. He looks around the gruesome scene he created.

“I will find a ring that’ll bring you back my love. Even if I have to kill every last person with these ‘blessings’ of God’s power.”

April 7

Christ. Another ribbon-cutting ceremony. He’s the guest of honor, of course. That cleft-chinned, cliché-spewing sack of otherworldly muscle. Worse yet, it’s the opening of an aviary. What does he know about birds? I am The Raven, after all. Who is he? Captain Thunder. Yep. A big bluster of noise and no action. Fitting.

And she’s there. My love. My unrequited love. Lenore Lamb, columnist for The Daily Times. I can’t read most of that glorified tabloid tripe, but she is different. Oh, the piercing power of her keyboard clack. What is she doing with that manchild in tights? That beer-swilling Bluto brute holding Olive Oyl hostage.

I watch it all unfold perched in my hidden nest. He snips the ribbon with oversized scissors. How I’d love to drive those twin blades into the flab of his sucked-in stomach. The city cheers when the smug superhero shears. His head is as hollow as the bones of that American robin. He flies. The one thing he has in common with these beautiful creatures. Like them, he comes from another land. Unlike them, he doesn’t belong here.

No matter. I shall eradicate him soon enough. Lenore will see him for what he truly is. And me for what I am. For spring is upon us and The Raven’s migration begins today. What will they think of their new savior? This city can either rise on my wings or be crushed by my talons.

July 19

His funeral was today, that crooked politician. They say north of a thousand people came to pay their respects. Pff. A hero’s send-off for that corrupt little prune. As the city treasurer, this humble public servant invested our surplus in his Mercedes-Benz S-Class, a new swimming pool, and semi-annual gambling/fornicating trips to Las Vegas. Meanwhile, our public schools are distributing textbooks that still tout Pluto as a planet.

Fortunately, the more vices the enemy possesses, the easier he is to destroy. Maybe a little raven delivered a message to the treasurer’s wife. Maybe she discovered him in a hotel suite, wrapped between the sheets with a prostitute, and unloaded 13 bullets into his body. You see, ravens are foragers. We don’t partake in the kill. We simply arrive afterward to feast on the carnage.

He is my sixth one this season. Politicians, police officers, bankers. The vile ones all have their weaknesses, whether it be money, sex, booze, drugs, or (of course) power. And who has been front and center at all their eternal resting plots? You got it. Captain Thunder. The idiot swears vengeance, and I’m going to have mine. The summer is heating up. I can’t wait.

October 27

What a wonderful day. It began with a walk through the dewy newness of an autumn morning. Oh, the splendor of bleeding trees, their red foliage desperately clinging to the wind-rattled branches. There is no artist more masterful than the steady hand of Death. I see red.

Later, in the library checking out, I couldn’t locate my card. I saw red. Lenore Lamb reaching out to me. “Is this yours?” she asked. I nodded. “Here you go, Jason Allan Crow...Now, where have I heard that name?”

I accepted the card; our fingers danced. “It was in the newspapers a long time ago,” I said. “My parents, they were gunned down by the local police force. Mistaken identity. Some theorize they saw something they shouldn’t have. Who knows? All we know is they were found with ravens picking at their bones.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said and meant it. “I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s okay. I was too young to remember it. I was told they were wonderful people.”

“I’m sure they were.”

“Don’t feel too sorry for me now. I was given a large settlement. Never had to worry about money.” I turned to scan my volume of gothic poetry.

A smile formed on her face when she observed the ornate tome. “I love that dark stuff. Especially this time of year.”

“Me too,” I said. Me too.

January 2

I’m usually not one for New Year’s resolutions, but this one couldn’t wait. Despite prior attempts to reveal my fortress, the big lug couldn’t seem to crack the code. And so I sent a final note. A pitiful puzzle, I must admit. I urged him to meet me at the “Raven Nest,” this being a thinly veiled anagram for “Sternn Ave,” location of our fine city’s tallest skyscraper.

How glorious it was when at last we met, his pathetic cape flapping helplessly atop the great edifice, flapping as if some fairytale flag symbolizing the justice and honor mythologized in children’s books. For I knew his weakness. It was a weakness shared by nearly every living creature, a weakness I admit to possessing. It was love.

I dangled sweet Lenore Lamb over the ledge. God, she looked like an angel. He begged me to let her live, begged me with an icy spirit mist shooting from his lips as if his very soul. Snowflakes fluttered in the calm sky, not one alike. I looked into Lenore’s eyes, for I too loved her, had sunk even deeper into the maddening pit over our last two months together. Yet I knew she could never love me. That I was nothing more than the psychopath next door. I let her go.

He couldn’t save her. And yet he went to her. Flew to her unmoving form. I would have escaped had the coward not called for backup. A wave of officers crashed down upon me, wrestled me into the back of a car. But what to do with me? The penitentiary was no place for a man cloaked in a black trenchcoat and raven mask. They knew you don’t cage a bird.

And so here I am, in the loving embrace of this private institution. I am to be their subject, to be studied and poked and prodded. What do they think, I wonder, when they see that devilish grin crawl across my face? I doubt they suspect that it appears each time I relive Captain Thunder’s agony, the moment our loves shattered simultaneously. And why should they? I’m just another patient watching the snowflakes fall toward earth.