Rigid Heartbeat. Shaking hands. Ragged breathing. Blood stains. Low moans. Distant screams. This is what I live for. Hearing people scream and cry over loved ones and losing their lives, brought absolute joy to me. I am Ablynn Revens, known as the Raven killer and I’m here for blood. For the screams of those who aren’t worthy to live. Low life bottom feeders who steal from those who are already suffering. Fat cats that think they deserve everything in the world. Twas all one big facade, a huge lie. Telling the poor that their money would be safe in their hands, only to rob them blind. As if America wasn’t already built on labor and bloodshed, these bastards had to just keep up the reputation
“Remember don’t let him get hurt.” I told myself.
“Songbird, you’re on dear,” Joey Aploenza spoke.
His Irish accent was strong and clear. Clearly proud of his culture and origins of his family. A rather optimistic fellow, gentlemen like. Always treated me kindly, a rather fine man. Strong face, Big blue eyes, Soft orange hair. Many of women would throw themselves on him, my manager the tramp magnet.
“Thank you, Joey darling,” I said.
The room had a low dense amount of hair spray clouding the room. Something about the 1920’s always made me feel like I was lucky to live in such a time. Bright lights, Dancing, Singing, Cartoons. Everything about these years was magical, truly those of wonder. Grateful that I had been born in 1908, 20 years old and a flapper dancer. Not only did I have men throwing themselves at me, I also had them wanting to sign me for my voice. I’m very good at entertaining people, even better at entertaining myself. Though my form of entertainment wasn’t legal, it was still very entertaining, nonetheless.
At one point in my life, I was a good girl. No woman ever had a chance at having a voice, let alone her own life. Until I met Joey, an aspiring young man who wanted to find him someone with talent beyond the stars. I was a waitress at a local diner, The Pig squeal. Boar-like men would always come in harassing the poor women that worked there. Joey came in one day offering a job to all the women, most scoffed and declined immediately. I absolutely despised men. All except Joey, since we started working together, he’s treated me with the same kindness a husband would to his wife, A husband who loved his wife for herself, that is.
Unless he needs or wants me to stay after with him, I usually go out and enjoy the most invigorating experiences in life. Living in New York has always been the most amazing thing, being able to live where so many decisions get made. Being able to perform in one of the greatest cities in the world, more fame, more luxury, more crowds, more newspapers, more bodies, more screams, more souls, more death.
Stepping out onto the glorious stage of The Servlin Banquet Gala Hall, the room where I always dreamed, I would sing and perform in one day. The room could hold 3,000 people sitting, 4,550 people including both sitting and standing. The stage was 400 feet wide and 350 feet from the seats to backstage. There was an exit at the left that led to an alley with the width to hold a marching band. To give you a visual example around 80 feet in width. No exit on the right as that is where the dressing rooms were and the backstage lighting area. I studied this building ever since I was a little girl, having the opportunity to be here now was a dream come true.
“Now presenting the illustrious, glorious Ms. Revens. You know her as The Raven singer, she’s here to perform her world-renowned hit ‘Ravens hymn’. Ladies and Gents please give a roaring applause for Ms. Ablynn Revens,” the announcer’s voice rang through the tall, elegant building.
A wave of noise consisting of cheers and applause filled my ears. A familiar wave of euphoria washing over me, much like the feeling I experience whenever I strip someone’s life away from them.
I sung the first verse of the song. Men immediately started gawking at me, while their ladies showed visible jealousy. I kept singing, waiting for the climax of the song to approach through the harp and piano. Gus, Jack and Clance crept into the hall. Gus on the overhead, Jack on the bottom left and Clance on the right. If everything was going as planned, then they should have their Tommy guns with them. Tonight, was either the highlight of my career or the downfall, either way tonight people would be dead, and I would feel star stunning.
Gunshots rang out through the hall, screams following. People trying to flee the scene, clinging onto people and tripping everywhere, desperately trying to run from the sight of the bodies. Blood blending with the red rug. Nothing invoked me more than seeing fear in people’s eyes as those they know die, life fleeing from their eyes. Those who cling onto the bodies of loved ones only to be shot down in a pathetic display of love.
Sneering, I faked leaving the hall, tripping over my dress, trying to run away from the intruders. Joey ran towards me.
“Songbird, are you ok?” He yelled over the gunshots.
My eyes showed a feared look. No Joey should have left, why is he here? He can’t get hurt; I care too much for him. Deep down people would say I loved him.
Suddenly everything went quiet. As he ran towards me a bullet had pierced through his stomach.
“Joey!” I screamed holding him close to me.
“ No no no no no no” I cried
“Songbird, never stop being kind” his sweet eyes went dull.
I missed him already, this must be what love does to a monster.
Zean is an aspiring writer hailing from Buffalo, NY. In her free time, she spends time with her dog Kado.
