text: It was the winter of 2000; I was in my hometown of Anchorage. On this evening, I was relaxing on the couch. Planning on watching another re-run of Seinfeld before turning in for the night. It is worth mentioning that my girlfriend, at the time, happened to be an Alaskan native. She had recently put the kids to bed and was taking a shower. My girlfriend's sister was visiting our home. She was staying in the downstairs spare bedroom. She was in town due to having some medical checkups scheduled for the following week at ANMC. We lived in a subdivision off Arctic Blvd that bordered Chester creek. This area called Midtown; it's not too far from downtown Anchorage. I suppose the time was around 10 or 11 PM; the moon was full that January night. I remember looking out the front room window. Seeing the rooftops of the neighboring houses sharply silhouetted in the glow. My dog lazily snoozed on the floor next to the couch. Eventually, my eyes also started to get heavy. This was due to the background noise of the television. Mixing with the quiet white noise of the shower had a calming effect. The baseboard heater quietly clicked and popped. Wrapping me in relaxing warmth; I soon dozed off. Suddenly I was awoken by a sharp, jolting burst of sound. My eyes immediately snapped open in shock. This tone ripped thru the tranquility of the peaceful night with gravelly croaking. There was no mistaking that sound, especially during the winter months in Alaska. This was the sound of the Raven. I remember thinking, why the hell is a raven making a racket at this time of the night!? I barely had time to finish that thought. When I heard the bedroom door fly open and then the sound of hurrying footsteps. I look up in time to see my girlfriend. Quickly putting on her robe as she runs to each kid's bedroom, anxiously checking on them. I sat up on the couch, still dazed from my interrupted sleep. Trying to get my head around what exactly I was seeing and hearing and why all the commotion. I glanced over to the TV and saw static across the screen; the time on the DVD player displayed 3:00 AM in green light. The dog was up and alert; the hackles stood tall down its back. Suddenly, the sister quickly comes up the stairs. She had a genuine look of wide-eyed concern and alarm deeply etched on her face. Once my girlfriend made sure the kids were safe and asleep, she worriedly looked out each window. For what I had no idea until she stopped dead in her tracks at the window in front of me. What's wrong??... What's wrong?? The sister kept fearfully whispering to herself. Slowly wringing her nightshirt in her hands. Timidly shuffling across the floor towards the living room window next to her sister. I couldn't understand why both the sisters and the dog were having such an intense reaction. The scene was surreal; I found myself in a confused daze as I stood up and approached the window myself. There was the culprit perched on the handrail of our deck. I have always known Ravens to be large birds; yet, this bird seemed utterly massive this close. The bird was so black that its feathers took on a deep purplish hue in the moonlight glow. Its large round inky black eyes assessed each of us individually. It intelligently, eyeing us up and down as it sharply cut its head from side to side. It yet seemed to take a greater interest in the sisters. This bird carried an intense, still, and heavy presence. It showed absolutely no fear of the humans that stood before it. It methodically stretched out its neck and opened its beak wide. A few seconds of silence passed until it made a sound I had never heard from a Raven before or after this bizarre night. The mournful cry it made reminded me of the wail of a small infant. The raven slowly weaved its head in a low figure-eight pattern as it made this continuous cry. The moment that sound filled the night air, a cold chill prickled down my neck and across my back. I was filled with a sense of loneliness I had never felt before. I quickly glanced over at the sisters. They were tightly clinging to each other. Knuckles white, with teary eyes keenly locked on the bird's bizarre display. I immediately thought that I was witnessing something I was not meant to see. I was very much an interloper in a personal exchange. Once the bird finished this almost ritual-like behavior. It quietly eyed both the women for a few more moments before leaping off into the night. An item lay where the bird once perched on the railing. Curiosity getting the best of me. Mixed with the desperate need to escape the strange and awkward atmosphere that overcame the room. I heaved open the half-frozen sliding door to enter the deck to retrieve the item. The weather outside being bitterly cold. I instantly regretted my decision as my body went into an immediate shiver. The skin on my face was tightening while my ears and nose burned painfully. The snow squeaked loudly beneath my bare feet as I gingerly approached the item. The mystery gift left behind soon became clear. A small bundle of needles from a spruce tree lay on the barren rail. Clearly, the women were both shaken to their core that night. A quiet melancholy soon followed and lingered heavily on the sisters. Continuing thru the following days after the bird's departure. The reason why was unknown to each of us. Yet, I had a strong gut feeling that it was not my place to talk about what we each saw. A few days passed. Once I got off work, the three of us decided to take the dog for a walk on a community trail not far behind our subdivision. Heavy cloud cover filled the sky over Anchorage that evening. Large snowflakes slowly fell. The walk was mainly dark. Except for the occasional light pole that sparsely dotted the trail. Washing the path in a fluorescent glow. The sounds of 6 PM city traffic droned in the background. We talked among ourselves when we heard a man's low weak cry for help in the darkness ahead. We immediately stopped and listed. The dog's ears snapped forward, head pointing slightly off the trail. A long whimper-like growl emitted from the animal's core, followed by a concerned huff. Once more, we hear a weak, agonized voice call out, pleading for God’s intervention. The cry drifted thru the snow-laden spruce trees that lined the trail. I glance down and notice a footpath in the snow leading thru the woodland in the directions of the cries. I hand the dog’s leash to the sisters and tell them to stay put. Both women sharply plead for me not to go as I continue into the murk to investigate. As I weave my way thru the tiny trail, my feet bust thru the upper crust of snow, and I sink to thigh depth. I continue to slog my way forward; before long, I come to a clearing in the trail. In the darkness, I can make out the silhouette of a lone tent. I call out as I approach the tent, only to be met with silence. When I am closer, I notice a battered tarp draped over the tent shell haphazardly. An inch of snow lay on the tarp, and the cheap tent bows under the weight. The unzipped tent entrance gave the appearance of a gaping black mouth in the gloom. I strain to look inside and call out a sharp hello?! Not a sound or any movement came from the tent. My concentration was suddenly broken. Irritated and worried calls from the sisters rang out demanding for me comeback. Before making my way back to the main trail, I investigated the campsite. Piles of trash littered the area in dark mounds. I made out some of what appeared to be scattered empty food containers. White trash bags ripped open full of miscellaneous used clothing. Broken children's toys lay beside empty beer and alcohol containers. Piles of empty aerosols labeled canned air peaked thru the snow. Frozen clothing remained hanging from the hacked-up trees that surrounded the site. A deep low sobbing drifted from behind me down the trail from where I came. The women again loudly shouted for my return with urgency. I quickly as possible made my way back to the sisters. They both pointed to the direction from where the cry came from. The focus was down the wide main trail that eventually opened into an empty city park named the valley of the moon. We called out as we cautiously searched the entire park. The only response was the muffled noise of a city in the winter. We made our way to a metal-roofed pavilion. Underneath the structure sat a few graffitied weather-beaten wooden picnic tables. This area was the only spot in the park not covered in snow. We decided at this point that it would be best to call APD and inform them of everything. We did precisely that, APD arrived, performed a search, and found nothing. Being late, we now started for home. We were making our way thru the playground. Passing a tall rocket-shaped jungle gym, when the sister gave a sharp, loud gasp. We glanced over to see she was looking upwards. The city lights reflected a deep red hue on the heavy snow-laden clouds. Revealing a large black silhouette of a raven who sat silently perched. We all felt the familiar heaviness of its gaze. My stomach tightened as we continued forward. Lowering our faces from the pelting snow while picking up our pace in our walk home, Two days later, the morning came for the sister to leave. We were getting ready to drop her off at the airport when my home phone rang. My girlfriend answers the phone. I was loading the sister's bags into the truck when I heard loud shouting and screams coming from the house. I soon found both women crying hysterically for their nephew. Alfred was a quiet boy who grew into an even quieter young man. He was raised in a village in southeast Alaska by his grandparents and aunties. Alfred became heavily addicted to alcohol. So much so his family sent him to Anchorage in hopes of treatment. Unfortunately, the treatment never took hold after many attempts. Eventually, he found himself homeless on the streets of Anchorage. He was ashamed of his situation and refused to return home, ignoring his family's pleas to return. He steadily continued to sink deeper into his addiction. Alfred became a living ghost in the urban landscape. He survived living hand to mouth by panhandling and stealing. Being afraid to sleep at the local homeless shelters at night. Alfred preferred to sleep where he could. One cold night he closed his eyes and never opened them again. The Spenard community patrol found his frozen body early the following day. The police report stated Alfreds' body was found in a fetal position. The man was lying on top of a picnic table underneath the pavilion at the valley of the moon park. When found, it was also mentioned that his body was covered in spruce boughs in a desperate attempt to stay warm. The night Alfred died was the very night we received our visit and gift from the mysterious Raven. Unbeknown to us, three days after Alfred’s death, we heard the sad cries for help in the park. The same park where he died. I had often wondered, looking back. If the Raven kept silent watch over him that bitterly cold night when he passed away. Maybe Alfred was able to catch a glimpse of its dark silhouette in the yellow moonlight, high on up its perch. Perhaps he also felt the heavy gaze upon him during his final moments. We will never know. I like to tell myself the bird was there, and Alfred found comfort in the gaze, knowing he was not alone. He would have a companion during his final walk thru the dark wilderness, to his eternal journey home... The sisters and their family never once referred to this mysterious bird as Raven. They called it by its original ancient name. The name given to it by their people in myths and legends centuries ago. The sacred name of Y'eil.