Covenant: Three days in a hole
All I can do is sit in this cage, perched with my beak sticking through the steel bars. For the lifeless child's toy sitting on a work table in the corner it's all the same old horrors in a shiny new facility. For the spiders that never cease, the ones the monster draws and the ones he lets collect in the corners it's all shiny new horrors added to the pile. It sits in the corner wearing it's "mask" and the same crusty hooded sweatshirt it always wears. It sits watching it's daily mantra of videos, this one is where the young man is forced to eat pieces of his mother while he cries and begs to be let go. The tall green man does horrible unspeakable things to the two of them and this thing watches it once a day, along with the three other videos.
It sits and watches and goes upstairs sometimes, then it visits my master while my master is locked in the room in the floor, how she cries, how I cry. It is because I am a Raven and not some doddering parrot that I am freely capable of deducing what has happened to my master and I, for not only was I there when it happened my deductive powers in just watching this monster and the surroundings gives me insight into what is likely going to happen to my master and I.
You see my name is Phineas, and my master named me after an exploring character from a very old work of fiction. It fit for as a Raven I am one to wonder in search of many things, my master found me after I was abandoned in a nest, she too was young by human standards and her father helped her raise me in partial captivity.
I say partial because my master's father was a brilliant human and a well worker in birds and animals of all kinds, cooping up a raven is ugly business and so I was trained as hawks are trained, which is to say I am not TRAINED. Thank you very much we can do away with such an ugly word. I work WITH my humans, for food, fun, and profit. I'm allowed the life of any good Raven conversing simply with my simple cousins, but I'm also free to sit with my master and listen to the straining strings of Bach, I am free to take tea with and listen to my master read from her favored works.
As a Raven I of course agree with and understand these finer things, and I welcomed them. It was my master's father who I will speak of once more as he fits well but harshly into the story I am about to tell. When I was yet young and wreck less my Thomas Falconi would sing low and soft songs of blues and hard ships, he would play his guitar to sooth me with master work technique, he would read to me of Plato and Sun Tzu, it was he who first awoke with in me the love of the better things the human race had to offer.
He would do the same for my master Arabella when she was also young and restless. How she and I would explore the wild places just beyond our home, how we would make up such wonderful stories and play as if we would one day wrest the world from the wicked men and evil times that had seemed to swallow the world around us. How naive we where, how blissfully foolish we where. You understand being blissful and worldly can seem like such a burden. There we both where living a life with out any real wants, all needs met, all things right.
But we knew (the three of us) that with all we had we never made the best of it. We had contentment, but like most American's the best life had to offer was some how lacking, the big picture was easy to see. We made things so good for ourselves, and at the same time we made things so very complicated. My treatus on the ailment of modern American culture aside we where young and happy and we could have made better of it. Of that I promise you given our present predicament.
I was rounding out my youth as was my master when the first tragedy of our lives occurred. Thomas Falconi hid his pain and troubles from the world as many great men do. I would see the spark of his inner light grow more dim in his eyes as we sat and sang "the blues" together in the light of the fire place. I knew there was something about the man that had changed, it was only days after his suicide that my master found the paper work in her father's desk.
Cancer had in weeks done to Thomas what it would some times take years to do to other men. From his thighs to his mid section there was little left of use, and being a Raven I can't imagine what that must do to a human being. The hard decisions Thomas must have made in his final days, my master may never fully forgive him for his final choice, for myself I can speak only for my self. Thomas Falconi was a much a father/mother/god to me as any ideal I could draw upon, and in my black eyes he did something that took courage and foresight.
Would she have loved him more for changing his adult diapers, would she have respected him as he lay dying high on pain medication raving about his lost relatives? These where questions she and I reigned in and argued over as we could in cross species communications. We spent a few years managing estates, she pulled through her college studies in a dutiful manner and I pulled through my/our loss by sharpening my claws and honing my skills.
It was when she looked into my dark eyes for the first time as a woman, radiant and full into her own being that she first spoke about the idea of "social cancers". It was that very day some four years ago that she vanquished the softer parts of her self and looked into my coal black eyes and told me her true feelings about the world and our fathers death.
"I don't blame him" she said. "I get it Phineas, I really get it for once, he had cancer and he couldn't live with it, well I can, I can live with cancers, but it doesn't mean I have to just sit around and let them build up". "Someone has to stand up at some point in time and stop it all, stop the corruption and the tyranny, someone has to play dress up like the Covenant does, but better". "We should stick to those who make other men the pawns in their own chess games of greed and malice".
Poetic words, words that stuck with me, words that convinced me to bend my self to their liking. We began immediately. Oddly enough unlike our fellows in the field the costuming came last, we started in law, we dug deep, she in the human books, myself in the practicality of using instinct and intimidation which are the things my brain and my claws and beak give me.
We dabbled in the ways of the human courts, we laid out chicken bones in new age rituals, we sold our souls for drugs and rock and roll we spend two years finding that thing we would between us become. They named us the "Queen of Stealth", one paper coined the "Raveness", and it stuck. We where both pleased, the name fed my ego and she had a name the media could understand and identify with.
We together didn't earn the reputation of someone like "Lady Justice" but being younger and lesser prepared for the game we where both happy with what we had. We mastered our technique, we both honed our skills at entry and surveillance, we gathered intelligence on the men who turned a proud nation into an anal whore for oil slick dicks and money drenched pricks. We danced the delicate distance between vigilantism and "private contractor" for the new government made in the wake of the reality the "super heroes" made.
We where yet again content and as I've learned now from our final chapter here, contentment ends in tragedy every time, my advice is be happy but be ever vigilant. Be ready and plan for the worst, you can then expect the best and not be very disappointed. My master and I had done well for ourselves and for the general good of those around us. We'd stay illegal yet anonymous. We'd play in the shadows, digging for black gold and coming up with it in spades.
We didn't just make headlines, we avoided them with deft performance, we even got backing from the famous paradox555 of known Covenant fame in our former years. We made California a bastion for legal jurisprudence, we welcomed the coin for the man that turned his life around and we hastened the vine staff for the man that didn't. We more and more took that final justice in our own hands. It became our undoing.
We had traveled abroad when they not only outlawed but condemned what we do/did as a nation. We ventured to new lands and then returned so very recently when they spoke of the death of a kindred spirit. Lady Justice was dead, and in many ways we found this to be all too true in the spirit of the America we'd left two years ago.
My master ever vigilant, always determined, sought out the murderer of this "lady justice", and here we sit, in the very spider's lair we had sought to destroy. I leave it to no failing of skills, her's or mine. The monster was ready, red eyed and ready for anything. He proved the strategy of paranoia sometimes pays off. He knew something was hunting him, and he being a spider caught a fly in a mates clothing.
It was only yesterday that he crawled dank into the "room in the floor" where my master is kept and tried to mate with her. He failed for he doesn't realize that there is nothing left for that part of himself, how does a thing in its prime of murder and wanton hate bother to mate with a simple person. Thank god he failed at entry, sorry for my master that he used his fists to reduce his growing rage for the thankless task of having ruined his own base needs in his futile search for new grounds of rage.
We where scouting his new lair in a quiet community of the north Hollywood rich when his house found us, it's quiet and well kept from the ground floor up, we found no hardship at entry. The thing has come into monies both mysterious and plaguing to my master and I. It wasn't until we'd crept into the basement where so many victims have now died in such short months when we gathered surprise from our distant emotions.
I'd scouted with glee, and I had even found the surveillance equipment for the property when my master rushed the property. She had complained of some other "hero" fallen in duty to this monster's spell when she proclaimed her rights to succeed and yet exceed her bounds by killing the thing in it's own lair. It was then that she found the thing's traps. Like the Gorgon of old it laid in wait with traps abound for my master.
Head long she rushed into a gas trip wire and head long she fell into the inner sanctum of the thing's lair. Ego, it has to be the down fall of all men and that includes men of any sex, humans for all the depths of love and hate they can feel they all eat of them selves, one way or another. My master ate of her self when she found an easy entrance with no exit easy to find. I pecked and cried on the edifice of the tomb that now and still holds her.
It was three nights ago that she found her self in this things trap, it was two days ago when the thing finally caught me as I tried for the third time to force my self into its entrance. For my own sake it did not harm me, it stunned me and I woke caged and beak bound as I am now. I wonder for what purpose this monster has left me as it has already injured my master.
I'm left with one strong conclusion, this "eater of man" has found solace in the injuring of it's own kind, it hates it self, it hates everyone else, it hates, but it can't bring it's self to hate me. It may very well keep me alive even hastening the passing of my master. God help me I wish for the unwinding of this rubber band around my beak. I wish for a voice to call out, I wish even more for a silent moment to remove the eye's of a monster so far gone from use it reminds me with it's presence hourly of the waste of things.
I hope for many things, above all I hope for the human thumbs needed to remove the simple lock that holds me barred, I'd hope for something, anything that would give me the opportunity to save my master, the one I love from a destruction that assuredly awaits us both now.
I am Phineas Fogg the wondering Raven and I am two nights in a cage, and tomorrow my Master Anabella is Three days in a hole and I've seen on the monster's tapes what happens to everyone on the third night, he worships a spider made wholly of green and on the third night that spider kills it's prey. I hold out little hope for my self and even less for my master. I can only hope for a gift, a once in a life time chance, a happenstance that will save her, and save us both. Well...I am a Raven after all.
Alice in Chains:
Down in a hole
Bury me softly in this womb
I Give This Part Of Me For You!
Sand rains down and here I sit
Holding rare flowers
In A Tomb.....In Bloom.
Down In A Hole And I Don't Know
If I Can Be Saved
See My Heart I Decorate It
Like A Grave
You Don't Understand Who They
Thought I Was Supposed To Be
Look At Me Now A Man
Who Won't Let Himself Be
Down In A Hole, Feelin' So Small
Down In A Hole, Losin' Control
I'd Like To Fly
But My Wings Have Been So Denied
Down In A Hole And They've Put All
The Stones In Their Place
I've Eaten The Sun So My Tongue
Has Been Burned Of The Taste
I Have Been Guilty
Of Kicking Myself In The Teeth
I Will Speak No More
Of My Feelings Beneath
Oh I Want To Be Inside Of You
Down In A Hole, Losin' My Soul
Down In A Hole, Feelin' So Small
Down In A Hole, Losin' My Soul
Down In A Hole, Out Of Control
I'd Like To Fly
But My Wings Have Been So Denied!
All I can do is sit in this cage, perched with my beak sticking through the steel bars. For the lifeless child's toy sitting on a work table in the corner it's all the same old horrors in a shiny new facility. For the spiders that never cease, the ones the monster draws and the ones he lets collect in the corners it's all shiny new horrors added to the pile. It sits in the corner wearing it's "mask" and the same crusty hooded sweatshirt it always wears. It sits watching it's daily mantra of videos, this one is where the young man is forced to eat pieces of his mother while he cries and begs to be let go. The tall green man does horrible unspeakable things to the two of them and this thing watches it once a day, along with the three other videos.
It sits and watches and goes upstairs sometimes, then it visits my master while my master is locked in the room in the floor, how she cries, how I cry. It is because I am a Raven and not some doddering parrot that I am freely capable of deducing what has happened to my master and I, for not only was I there when it happened my deductive powers in just watching this monster and the surroundings gives me insight into what is likely going to happen to my master and I.
You see my name is Phineas, and my master named me after an exploring character from a very old work of fiction. It fit for as a Raven I am one to wonder in search of many things, my master found me after I was abandoned in a nest, she too was young by human standards and her father helped her raise me in partial captivity.
I say partial because my master's father was a brilliant human and a well worker in birds and animals of all kinds, cooping up a raven is ugly business and so I was trained as hawks are trained, which is to say I am not TRAINED. Thank you very much we can do away with such an ugly word. I work WITH my humans, for food, fun, and profit. I'm allowed the life of any good Raven conversing simply with my simple cousins, but I'm also free to sit with my master and listen to the straining strings of Bach, I am free to take tea with and listen to my master read from her favored works.
As a Raven I of course agree with and understand these finer things, and I welcomed them. It was my master's father who I will speak of once more as he fits well but harshly into the story I am about to tell. When I was yet young and wreck less my Thomas Falconi would sing low and soft songs of blues and hard ships, he would play his guitar to sooth me with master work technique, he would read to me of Plato and Sun Tzu, it was he who first awoke with in me the love of the better things the human race had to offer.
He would do the same for my master Arabella when she was also young and restless. How she and I would explore the wild places just beyond our home, how we would make up such wonderful stories and play as if we would one day wrest the world from the wicked men and evil times that had seemed to swallow the world around us. How naive we where, how blissfully foolish we where. You understand being blissful and worldly can seem like such a burden. There we both where living a life with out any real wants, all needs met, all things right.
But we knew (the three of us) that with all we had we never made the best of it. We had contentment, but like most American's the best life had to offer was some how lacking, the big picture was easy to see. We made things so good for ourselves, and at the same time we made things so very complicated. My treatus on the ailment of modern American culture aside we where young and happy and we could have made better of it. Of that I promise you given our present predicament.
I was rounding out my youth as was my master when the first tragedy of our lives occurred. Thomas Falconi hid his pain and troubles from the world as many great men do. I would see the spark of his inner light grow more dim in his eyes as we sat and sang "the blues" together in the light of the fire place. I knew there was something about the man that had changed, it was only days after his suicide that my master found the paper work in her father's desk.
Cancer had in weeks done to Thomas what it would some times take years to do to other men. From his thighs to his mid section there was little left of use, and being a Raven I can't imagine what that must do to a human being. The hard decisions Thomas must have made in his final days, my master may never fully forgive him for his final choice, for myself I can speak only for my self. Thomas Falconi was a much a father/mother/god to me as any ideal I could draw upon, and in my black eyes he did something that took courage and foresight.
Would she have loved him more for changing his adult diapers, would she have respected him as he lay dying high on pain medication raving about his lost relatives? These where questions she and I reigned in and argued over as we could in cross species communications. We spent a few years managing estates, she pulled through her college studies in a dutiful manner and I pulled through my/our loss by sharpening my claws and honing my skills.
It was when she looked into my dark eyes for the first time as a woman, radiant and full into her own being that she first spoke about the idea of "social cancers". It was that very day some four years ago that she vanquished the softer parts of her self and looked into my coal black eyes and told me her true feelings about the world and our fathers death.
"I don't blame him" she said. "I get it Phineas, I really get it for once, he had cancer and he couldn't live with it, well I can, I can live with cancers, but it doesn't mean I have to just sit around and let them build up". "Someone has to stand up at some point in time and stop it all, stop the corruption and the tyranny, someone has to play dress up like the Covenant does, but better". "We should stick to those who make other men the pawns in their own chess games of greed and malice".
Poetic words, words that stuck with me, words that convinced me to bend my self to their liking. We began immediately. Oddly enough unlike our fellows in the field the costuming came last, we started in law, we dug deep, she in the human books, myself in the practicality of using instinct and intimidation which are the things my brain and my claws and beak give me.
We dabbled in the ways of the human courts, we laid out chicken bones in new age rituals, we sold our souls for drugs and rock and roll we spend two years finding that thing we would between us become. They named us the "Queen of Stealth", one paper coined the "Raveness", and it stuck. We where both pleased, the name fed my ego and she had a name the media could understand and identify with.
We together didn't earn the reputation of someone like "Lady Justice" but being younger and lesser prepared for the game we where both happy with what we had. We mastered our technique, we both honed our skills at entry and surveillance, we gathered intelligence on the men who turned a proud nation into an anal whore for oil slick dicks and money drenched pricks. We danced the delicate distance between vigilantism and "private contractor" for the new government made in the wake of the reality the "super heroes" made.
We where yet again content and as I've learned now from our final chapter here, contentment ends in tragedy every time, my advice is be happy but be ever vigilant. Be ready and plan for the worst, you can then expect the best and not be very disappointed. My master and I had done well for ourselves and for the general good of those around us. We'd stay illegal yet anonymous. We'd play in the shadows, digging for black gold and coming up with it in spades.
We didn't just make headlines, we avoided them with deft performance, we even got backing from the famous paradox555 of known Covenant fame in our former years. We made California a bastion for legal jurisprudence, we welcomed the coin for the man that turned his life around and we hastened the vine staff for the man that didn't. We more and more took that final justice in our own hands. It became our undoing.
We had traveled abroad when they not only outlawed but condemned what we do/did as a nation. We ventured to new lands and then returned so very recently when they spoke of the death of a kindred spirit. Lady Justice was dead, and in many ways we found this to be all too true in the spirit of the America we'd left two years ago.
My master ever vigilant, always determined, sought out the murderer of this "lady justice", and here we sit, in the very spider's lair we had sought to destroy. I leave it to no failing of skills, her's or mine. The monster was ready, red eyed and ready for anything. He proved the strategy of paranoia sometimes pays off. He knew something was hunting him, and he being a spider caught a fly in a mates clothing.
It was only yesterday that he crawled dank into the "room in the floor" where my master is kept and tried to mate with her. He failed for he doesn't realize that there is nothing left for that part of himself, how does a thing in its prime of murder and wanton hate bother to mate with a simple person. Thank god he failed at entry, sorry for my master that he used his fists to reduce his growing rage for the thankless task of having ruined his own base needs in his futile search for new grounds of rage.
We where scouting his new lair in a quiet community of the north Hollywood rich when his house found us, it's quiet and well kept from the ground floor up, we found no hardship at entry. The thing has come into monies both mysterious and plaguing to my master and I. It wasn't until we'd crept into the basement where so many victims have now died in such short months when we gathered surprise from our distant emotions.
I'd scouted with glee, and I had even found the surveillance equipment for the property when my master rushed the property. She had complained of some other "hero" fallen in duty to this monster's spell when she proclaimed her rights to succeed and yet exceed her bounds by killing the thing in it's own lair. It was then that she found the thing's traps. Like the Gorgon of old it laid in wait with traps abound for my master.
Head long she rushed into a gas trip wire and head long she fell into the inner sanctum of the thing's lair. Ego, it has to be the down fall of all men and that includes men of any sex, humans for all the depths of love and hate they can feel they all eat of them selves, one way or another. My master ate of her self when she found an easy entrance with no exit easy to find. I pecked and cried on the edifice of the tomb that now and still holds her.
It was three nights ago that she found her self in this things trap, it was two days ago when the thing finally caught me as I tried for the third time to force my self into its entrance. For my own sake it did not harm me, it stunned me and I woke caged and beak bound as I am now. I wonder for what purpose this monster has left me as it has already injured my master.
I'm left with one strong conclusion, this "eater of man" has found solace in the injuring of it's own kind, it hates it self, it hates everyone else, it hates, but it can't bring it's self to hate me. It may very well keep me alive even hastening the passing of my master. God help me I wish for the unwinding of this rubber band around my beak. I wish for a voice to call out, I wish even more for a silent moment to remove the eye's of a monster so far gone from use it reminds me with it's presence hourly of the waste of things.
I hope for many things, above all I hope for the human thumbs needed to remove the simple lock that holds me barred, I'd hope for something, anything that would give me the opportunity to save my master, the one I love from a destruction that assuredly awaits us both now.
I am Phineas Fogg the wondering Raven and I am two nights in a cage, and tomorrow my Master Anabella is Three days in a hole and I've seen on the monster's tapes what happens to everyone on the third night, he worships a spider made wholly of green and on the third night that spider kills it's prey. I hold out little hope for my self and even less for my master. I can only hope for a gift, a once in a life time chance, a happenstance that will save her, and save us both. Well...I am a Raven after all.
Alice in Chains:
Down in a hole
Bury me softly in this womb
I Give This Part Of Me For You!
Sand rains down and here I sit
Holding rare flowers
In A Tomb.....In Bloom.
Down In A Hole And I Don't Know
If I Can Be Saved
See My Heart I Decorate It
Like A Grave
You Don't Understand Who They
Thought I Was Supposed To Be
Look At Me Now A Man
Who Won't Let Himself Be
Down In A Hole, Feelin' So Small
Down In A Hole, Losin' Control
I'd Like To Fly
But My Wings Have Been So Denied
Down In A Hole And They've Put All
The Stones In Their Place
I've Eaten The Sun So My Tongue
Has Been Burned Of The Taste
I Have Been Guilty
Of Kicking Myself In The Teeth
I Will Speak No More
Of My Feelings Beneath
Oh I Want To Be Inside Of You
Down In A Hole, Losin' My Soul
Down In A Hole, Feelin' So Small
Down In A Hole, Losin' My Soul
Down In A Hole, Out Of Control
I'd Like To Fly
But My Wings Have Been So Denied!