Whispers of the Raven Read Online Tiana Laveen

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Forbidden Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
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His father’s complexion reddened.

“And pick up the dog’s pee pads at least. We don’t want to run her away. Anyway, she is highly rated. Lastly, I have a grocery delivery service for you. I put in your rations that you need and typically buy on the list for a Wednesday delivery. Every week your stash will include ready-made meals. Just heat them and eat. Your medications will also be delivered. Naturally, I can’t pick them up from the pharmacy right now…”

Dad’s shoulders heaved up and down. He lowered his gaze to his lap.

“…This must be quite expensive, Nikolai.” His voice sounded weak and muffled.

“You’re my father. You need care. Besides, I’ve been thrifty with my spending. I splurge every now and again, but save for a rainy day. I have the money. It helps that your house is paid off, and you use your social security to pay your bills and get your cigarettes. This is fine. All I ask is that you take your medication as directed, and take care of the dog.”

“I take care of Dorsie.” He lifted his eyes. Such sad eyes.

“She needs more than just to be petted, Dad. That’s a living thing. She needs to be walked. She needs attention. I know you love her, but between your bad health and just age, a little more effort is required. Like, she needs to go to the vet at least once a year. Clean water. Fresh food served at least twice a day. If you can’t manage it, well, I will hire someone who can. Just let me know.”

“None of this helps. I just want my son back.”

“You never lost me, but you’ve definitely not won.” He cleared his throat. “Now, I appreciate you stoppin’ by, but for everyone’s sake, including yours, we don’t need to talk about this any further. People are listening… people are always listening.”

His father looked nervously about the room, almost as if he were expecting to see someone record their exchange.

“But you can’t stay in here. Jail is not the place for my boy.”

“I don’t have any intentions of staying here.” His father’s eyes widened. “I have done what I needed to do. I have made peace with it, and I expect the truth to be revealed at this point. As it should be.” He slowly stood from his chair. “Looks can be deceiving, so, I have to be wise in my decisions right now. I’ve thought this all through. I know what I’m doing. I will not make the ultimate sacrifice. I can no longer hold the truth hostage. Dad, this is it… It’s over.” He waved his hands, causing the restraints to chime and rattle. “The truth finds a way to get out of shackles. Chains. Any and all restraints.

“It climbs over barbed wire. Crawls through broken glass and walks over hot coals. It finds a voice somehow, some way, and demands to be heard. The truth may not come immediately, and sometimes we fool ourselves into believing it has forgotten, but the truth always has on a watch. It knows the time. Truth and Time are family, just like us. And no matter how harsh and ugly Truth is, and how late and frustrating its brother, Time, may be, they always come together eventually… And you know what? There’s nothing we can do to ever tear them apart. Я люблю тебя, папа.” (YA lyublyu tebya, papa. /I love you, Dad.)

A tear budded in the old man’s left eye and cascaded down his pallid face. Nikolai turned away and motioned for the guard to return him to his cell…

Porsche left the hospital and returned home after looking at a man who appeared to be reduced to a shell of his former self. Tests were being run to determine his identity, per her conversation with Captain White, and though the man in that bed looked nothing like he did six months prior, she still believed in her heart it was who she thought him to be. The answer to the question of why, though, remained.

She sat on her couch, staring at her blank television set. Her nerves were jumping, and a glass of water was waiting for her, along with anxiety medication that she’d yet to take. The loss of her friend and now this situation had finally caught up with her.

She grabbed the prescription, dumped out a couple of tablets from the bottle, and took them down the hatch. Then, she sat back with her phone and checked her missed calls… missed text messages… missed voicemails. One popped up on her screen right then. Mail delivery. Unless it’s some Vodka being supplied, I have no use for it.

She closed her eyes while her heart beat too fast. She waited it out, got to her feet, and made her way out the door, trudging towards the cluster of mailboxes she and her neighbors shared. From hers, she pulled out a stack of what she presumed to be bills, flyers, advertisements, and a box of some sort. I don’t remember ordering anything recently. She wracked her mind as she headed back indoors with the parcel.


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