Riddled with wonder as the ticking of the clock nears the witching hour.
He stealthily glides on the misty air of dampening fog wafting, glistening by the dimming glow of the street lamps.
Always looking, seeking, and hunting for prey to suppress the hungerous pangs harboring internally under his lustrous black skin and bones.
Bells thrice ring through the night like the cawing of the unmuted raven he so desires to happen upon, unguarded…waiting.
Will he ever find this mystical bird who shares the midnight, sleek palette with him?
Never giving up, his search for the raven will continue until all his lives are no more.
The Quotable Raven 
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