Spring/Summer ‘25 Editorial ”Red Riding Hood" Pt. 03

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Aeyde Anemoia Ch. 06
  “The Raven” by Durga Chew-Bose

Images: Daniel Roché
Words: Durga Chew-Bose
Date: 07.05.2025

This season, we invite guest editor Durga Chew-Bose to reimagine six Grimm Brothers’ tales that inspired the Aeyde SS25 collection. In Chapter 06, Chew-Bose brings “The Raven” into contemporary realms, offering a fresh perspective on the traditional storyline. The editorial marks the sixth in a series of commissions exploring German folklore and mythology, rooted in the seasonal concept of “Aeyde Anemoia.”

Listen to "The Raven"
By Durga Chew-Bose

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The invitation said WHERE BLACK. At first, she assumed it was a mistake. Surely the invitation had meant to say WEAR BLACK. She held the card, absorbed by its strangeness. If it was a mistake, the mistake was disorienting. If it wasn’t a mistake…then?

The invitation was printed on thick notepaper with embossed gold lettering. The ink smelled new, as did the notepaper, which was worn in one corner, like something that had travelled far, but was handled by few. She had always been awestruck by paper travelling distances. Of all the things, a piece of paper could find its destination. A piece of paper could arrive. A piece of paper could be counted on.

She stared at the pair of words until they began to move like a gentle wave. This sometimes happened if she stared at anything for too long. WHERE BLACK. The dizzying effect soon gave way to meaning. Or some version of meaning. She cranked out possibilities. WHERE BLACK, as in the secret location was dark, obscured. WHERE BLACK, as in, “show up at night.” WHERE BLACK, as in: Arrive! Don’t Ask Questions! Wear Black! The error (if you can even call it that) felt like a directive (but also, of course, an omen). Was it a signal? A mysterious request that should be followed. A mysterious command born from impatience, agitation. But where was black? How could she get there? Maybe it wasn’t a place at all.

Just then, her attention was pulled elsewhere. A flock of ravens crashed through the sky, like a black glitch against clear blue. They stole any semblance of sense she had left; their swoop and unsettling span left her speechless.

She’d read somewhere that a flock of ravens was called an unkindness of ravens, perhaps having to do with their personality, or how they treated their young. Whatever the reason, cruelty or callousness was to blame for such a name. She’d also read that ravens could play hide-and-seek, and that they have what is called “episodic memory.” They can remember a human face, especially as it relates to emotions. She didn’t like that she remembered this fact.

She looked down at the invitation, passing her fingers over the words WHERE BLACK, and decided to follow the ravens. They were—like it or not, logically or not—the only response to WHERE BLACK.

She became their shadow, quietly in pursuit as the ravens dipped below bridges and huddled near openings like arches and doorways, anywhere that provided rest and cover with a view. She followed them as they gathered on great lawns. She followed them as they paused in a row on a wire. When they dove mid-flight (because ravens love to dive), sometimes in unison with wingtips touching, she stared admiringly. She was entertained by this troupe of flying acrobats. She found them fun.

She stayed on their tail, picking up speed as the day passed. She found it oddly simple, even natural, to keep pace. She saw herself as one sees oneself in a dream: vaguely, but with ambushing, familiar details

At first, the changes were minor. She noticed a quickening. She was moving with more grace—sailing instead of running or walking. She never took flight, but her movements were no longer heavy or belonging to the ground. This must be some version of flying, she thought. Then, more changes. Some bolder. She was wearing black. The darkest, inkiest shade, as if ripped from the night sky (but only the night sky that hangs over seas). She was cloaked in black. She felt elegant and up to something, much like a raven.

The texture of her hair began to shift, less silken and straight. It was as if individual plumes were sewn to her scalp. She didn’t mind. She assumed it was simply angry knots from a day of new, unaccustomed effort. Her whole body was tired; good tired. The kind of tired that allows for lightness and wonder. Her heartbeat seemed to race, her chest pumping with air. She’d spent the day becoming a bird, whatever that might mean, whatever anything means when one decides to follow a whim. She felt mighty and transformed because a mysterious urge—the purest, most alive urge—had outpaced all reason.

She also felt sad. It was hard to not separate regret from joy. The former was a tally of missed opportunities. The latter made obvious how easy it was to change oneself, to transform, grow wings. She held onto her sadness. It was hers. It was private.

Soon, the ravens arrived at a castle. Although she had lived in this city her whole life, she had never seen this castle. There were so many things she had never seen until this day. There were so many ways of seeing. The castle was elaborate with staircases that seemed endless. One could spend the day climbing, getting nowhere while still being somewhere. The same could be said about flying, she thought. The sky was both nowhere and somewhere. As the ravens gathered near a turret—an unkindness of ravens—she remembered the invitation: WHERE BLACK. She looked around. She saw nothing. Nothing at all but a castle that had always been there. She heard the loudest whoooosh! She searched for the ravens; they were gone. They’d brought her here and now, they’d deserted her here, like some weird, totally extraordinary mission. But why?

When she awoke, not from a dream, but the next day, she was wearing white. It was her wedding later that evening, in an old castle not far from her home. She’d been nervous; joy mixed with a touch of regret. She’d hoped for a sign. She’d wondered if what was missing was a trapdoor, a quick exit.

But no.

She remembered her wedding invitation requested that guests WEAR BLACK. She smiled. Her own kindness of ravens accompanying her down the aisle.