The Black Soul Bird

An excerpt from the epic El Ocio

A long train whistle sounded in the river valley below, waking Vidal from his slumber. He yawned and blinked his eyes a couple times before realizing things were not as they had been when he first laid down to rest.

An immense, jet-black raven stood on the ground by Vidal’s feet, tugging at the bandanna’d bundle in his lap, trying to clamp the knot in its curved beak. Vidal twitched away from it, sitting up, causing the raven to realize he was awake. The black bird turned its head and looked straight at him with one amber eye. It extended its massive wingspan and cawed so loud that its call echoed back from the far side of the canyon. Then chaos erupted.

Above them, filling the canopy of the juniper, were dozens of birds of fantastically diverse size and color, all of which had exploded into a sudden state of flapping, frenzied outcry. In the valley below the approaching train began ringing its bell. Astounded and confounded by the thieving corvid and its entourage of foreign fowl, Vidal kicked out his legs, striking the raven in its plumed chest and flinging the swaddled sphere to the ground. 

The raven shrieked in anger and began snapping at Vidal’s feet and clawing at his shins. It flapped its wings, rising off the ground and kicking up clouds of dust. The other birds continued crying out in their many different voices and flapping their wings, flinging down juniper berries and needles, flecks of bark, broken twigs and excrement. The bell continued ringing. Vidal scrambled to his feet and reached out to grab the sphere. The raven squared off with him, rising up to its full height (nearly as tall as Vidal himself) and struck at Vidal’s hand with its beak before he could get a grip on the bandanna.

Vidal flinched and pulled back, allowing the raven to slam one of its long-toed, long-taloned feet atop the sphere, claiming it. It cawed again, its red tongue vibrating, its throat and head feathers flexed into spikes and its eyes flashing.

After a moment Vidal screamed back, possessed by an unfamiliar ferocity. He kicked at the bird again, still yelling. They circled the sphere, dodging each other’s strikes and feints and exchanging wordless rage. In unison they both dove for the coveted prize. Vidal wrapped his right arm around its base, securing it in the crux of his elbow and the raven slammed its left foot back onto the top to try and pull it away. A tug-of-war ensued, with the boy pulling down and the bird trying to fly up. Vidal batted at its wings with his left hand, its wings batted at him from both sides and its right foot grasped his pachetas, ripping at the new denim.

They were evenly matched, and for several moments the battle was a fair one. Dust, feathers and bird calls filled the air. Just as Vidal was preparing for a particularly momentous tug, he felt a searing pain cut into his right arm. He yelped and released the sphere. A small harrier wearing leather jesses had swooped down and was wrenching its talons through the flesh of his forearm, leaving behind three long, ragged lacerations. It cried out and dodged Vidal’s retaliatory swat before taking off into the sky. 

The raven, sphere in tow, rose into the air, croaking in triumph. The rest of the flock took off from their perches, rising in a raucous rally. Vidal clutched his bleeding wounds and watched the whirlwind of wings soar away. He moaned in pain and stepped to the edge of the mesa to watch them go. Dumbfounded by the entire encounter, Vidal could only shake his head, his mouth open and brow furrowed, as he watched the fleeing flock. 

They flew out into the valley and began circling over Embudo Station. The train had arrived and was cruising through, its telltale bell tolls unceasing, demanding uninterrupted passage. The birds rose together in a spiral, the raven at the head, before swooping downwards and diving toward the moving train. In utter disbelief, Vidal saw the raven lead them through a trapdoor in the roof of one of the train cars. As an organized stream, two by two, three by three, they entered the opening until they were all stowed away.

Vidal looked on, comprehending the inevitable implications of this inauspicious heist. As the train passed through the station, he tottered on the precipice, the sheer slope looming before him, his instincts of self-preservation battling an unnamed foe, an impulse he didn’t fully understand but was beholden to nonetheless. When the tail of the train came into view, the impulse won out. Vidal leapt off the mesa’s edge and gave chase, pursuing the Smoking Mirror and accepting his fate.

© 2020 Sage Vogel

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Dear reader,

You have just read an excerpt from my epic tale titled El Ocio. This is a small part of a much larger work, which I soon hope to find a suitable publisher for. If you are in the industry and believe you could assist me in this endeavor, please send an email to sage@sagevogel.com

Thank you,

Sage Vogel