Nevermore

For the two weeks before Halloween, I cut out and posted about nine hundred million ravens all over the library to advertise our annual Scare Fair. I must have formed an addiction, because on the evening of my birthday, I found myself enlisting my entire family and Simon P. to help me make a raven costume to wear to the party.

Simon P. found a fantastic deal on some kind of foamy-rubbery thing earlier in the day. It was the perfect size. After much consultation, we decided this was a decent approximation of raven wings. While my parents and I traced and cut this out, Simon P. made me an awesome beak.

Photo by Simon P.

Scare Fair is the only time of year undergrads get to go up in the tower. I was allowed to take Simon P. up before all the students got there. The first time I went up I swear my knees were shaking slightly because I had developed a sudden and unprecedented fear of heights. This time, being a bird, I felt perfectly at home.

Photo by Simon P.

The bird flapped a lot and tried to take off into the wind, but Simon P., notorious killjoy, advised strenuously against this. The bird, somewhat vexed, satisfied itself with having its picture taken a lot instead.

Photo by Simon P.

It took its wings off to go into Wegman's later, but put them on again to walk around the village. It now feels uncomfortable without them, and wears them about the house. It is so convinced that wings are the new Snuggies, it's thinking of making a second pair for guests.