Chapter I
Motto
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
“The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe
1 November 2025
The moon was dead. What a shame. I loved watching its silver sparks dance across the brown surface of my coffee.
I stir my sugar dreamily, my gaze lost in the deep darkness surrounding our café table. The teaspoon lightly strikes the sides of the cup, its sound echoing unusually loudly in the evening silence. The damp air carries the sweetish smell of dead leaves. The rain has pasted them to the cobblestones, and the wind, every now and then, tears one loose and sends it dancing along the empty street. At the other tables, the chairs are pushed beneath the wet tabletops. I can’t remember seeing another customer since we sat down.
“I’m telling you, Alecsander, there was a time when I believed in logic, in the human ability to make sense of this world’s mysteries... It’s so cold out there!”
Andrew pulls his coat tighter around himself. He has barely touched his coffee since we sat down. He holds his hands around the cup as if trying to warm his fingers. Every now and then, he looks out toward the street, but then returns to our conversation with the same tired expression.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear the flutter of wings. I wonder what kind of bird it was.
“You know how much I like the cold, Andrew, just as much as I like solving your so-called mysteries. Everything has an explanation. Even God.”
From deep within the neighborhood comes the hoarse tolling of brass bells. Andrew lifts his gaze, following the sound until it fades.
“What I saw there had nothing to do with God, Alecsander...”
“Then what did it have to do with?”
Andrew looks away. For a few moments, he seems to be searching for the right words.
“Don’t try to understand, Alecsander... You can’t understand.”
I lean my elbows on the table and look at him, amused.
“Andrew, do you remember when you were convinced your grandmother’s ghost was haunting the attic? You called me over one night, almost in tears, and after an hour of investigating, we discovered that your late grandmother had four paws and a tail and was meowing because she was hungry.”
A smile lights up his face for a moment. He almost immediately hides it in the collar of his coat.
“That damn cat! Do you remember how it jumped on you?”
“I mostly remember how you ran down the stairs.”
I laugh. I like teasing him. Usually, he gives as good as he gets. Andrew raises his cup to his lips, then sets it down again at once.
“It’s dark out here. Don’t you want to drink our coffee inside?”
“Are you afraid of the dark, Andrew?”
“You should be, too.”
“Why?”
“Because in the dark, you find...” He stops and looks toward the street again. “Forget it, Alecsander. You wouldn’t understand.”
“So much for my degree in philosophy, then?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then enlighten me. What do you find in the dark?”
A streak of water runs down the café windows. The wind gathers the wet leaves around the legs of the tables, setting them dancing for a few moments before leaving them still again. The steam rises from our coffee, and for a moment Andrew’s face disappears in its swirling wisps. Beyond our table, a faint light from the café window trembles across the cobblestones. The leaves shift, the shadows of the chairs stretch and break, but Andrew’s shadow seems to remain still. I turn my gaze back to my cup.
“I can’t stay here any longer. Do you want me to take you home? It’s late.”
I stare into the distance and gently stroke the silver medallion around my neck. The metal is cold beneath my fingers. It wasn’t always like this.
“I have something else to do today... You know that, Andrew.”
“Maria... I understand, but are you sure you don’t want me to drive you there?”
My fingers pause on the medallion for a moment.
“I like walking. I’m not lazy enough to drive everywhere, like you. Besides, I have to make this journey alone... as I’ve been doing for a long time.”
“How many years has it been now?”
“Enough...”
I drink the last of my coffee, glancing anxiously at my watch. Why is it moving so slowly?
“Alecsander, I know it hurts, but are you sure things really happened the way you heard?”
“Yes. I’m a hundred percent sure. I’ve checked it dozens of times. There’s no other explanation.”
My voice changes abruptly. Andrew watches me for a few moments without saying anything. Then he lowers his eyes to the table and doesn’t press the matter.
“I’ll leave you to calm down. Do what you have to do, but send me a text so I know you’re all right. Take care...”
“I grew up in the Balkans, my friend. I know how to look after myself. Have you ever been chased by a band of Gypsies with their knives out, Andrew?”
A faint smile crosses his face.
“Believe me, there are far worse things in this world.”
“I believe you.”
I’m lying. Lately, lying has come very easily to me. Maria didn’t like it when I did that, but Maria...
Andrew buttons his coat and says goodbye. I watch him walk away along the dark pavement. For a second, I think I see his reflection in the café’s rain-streaked window. Then I light a cigarette. The lighter’s flame flickers between my hands.
The waitress comes over with the bill.
“Here you are, sir. That’s what you owe for the two coffees.”
I pay and, through the cigarette smoke, step out onto the street, walking slowly toward the cemetery.
How naive Andrew is, I tell myself.
Today, all he told me was nonsense. Even I don’t know how to lie as well as he does.
The Gateway to Hell, Houska Castle... Can you imagine?
A short laugh escapes me, muffled by the cigarette smoke.
At sunrise, I’ll see this children’s ghost story of a castle with my own eyes... this gateway to Hell.
But first... I have to visit Maria.
