Poem:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.' Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more,' Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!' This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!' Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. `Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more!' Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as `Nevermore.' But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.' Then the bird said, `Nevermore.' Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, `Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of "Never-nevermore."' But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.' This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. `Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore - Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `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 named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Story:

            The clouds filtered, the moon rose, the clock ticked twelve times, midnight. The curtains from my window were not revealing much light. What was light, something made up of heat, the sun, a candle, a lightbulb, what was it? Could it be a figment of our imagination? The door was sealed shut, tightened and locked for any foreigners to our home to come barging in, be them a friend of mine, or a foe. This was my isolation from the real world, my door being locked. It was just the beginning of anther boring day.

            Being alone was really not that hard to me. It was pretty much second nature, if you could call second nature being alone in my room forever. I would really isolate myself forever if I would really need to. I cried and wept and crying in my room. The books about love and beauty practically covered my bookcase, stories lost in the dark.

            Lenore. The name echoed in my head, like there was somebody inside shouting in an empty mountain range, the mountains stretching for miles and miles. How could anybody, God or mortal, seek to steal her away from me? Why would they want to break that bond? What was this God or person, envious of our love? Could they be jealous of her beauty? The one person I have had true love for, the skies would show no happiness, the lights were never to shine brightly, and the world, would look as dark, empty, and bleak as this room. It was as if I was imprisoned into this one cell, locked in here for all eternity to never know true love, to never love again. Life is this cruel, for when you have no love, or even happiness within you. To stand alone, you feel as empty and dark as this room. It feels like Hell.

            The book I grabbed from my bookshelf was one story from many I had liked. It was a fiction story about a true love so rich and so delicious; it could easily be called a fantasy. The love that they shared had no bounds, it had nothing to stop them, it would last forever, even after they had passed on. Suddenly, I flipped through the book, and a warm feeling took my soul for about a few seconds, then I was cold and darkened. How could this couple, a fiction story that started with a crush on each other, grow up into this one love so strong, it would last forever? Love was one of the first things in the morning, the last things in the night, which kept your heart beating, you moving, living, and breathing, altogether. But without love, you as a person feel nothing. The motion making your body move, your heart beat, your lungs push and pull air inside and outside of your body, it stops when you don’t feel that you have love anymore. In fact, you will feel as empty as I do.

            A tap, then two more, soft and continuous as the taps were, sounded at the door. Could it be Lenore? She always would have that continuous soft tap every day she tried to enter my room. Her fingers were always gently tapping on the door, as the door lay shut and closed tightly, as if they were trying to get in.

“It’s a visitor,” I said briefly. “He or she is tapping at my door, and if that be Lenore, let me know.”

            The ashes from the fireplace were brought up by a swift wind, which gently placed them back down onto the floor. The fire died down to a small kindle, a gentle flame, swaying from side to side. Tomorrow would probably be a new day, I would hope. Maybe I’d forget about Lenore and move on to find somebody else. I do not think I would ever know of the words “True Love” again. How could she do this to me? The radiant light had glowed around her; she was always protected by the angels above who named her, Lenore.

            The wind blew hard, rustling the curtains as they swished in line with the wind. A strong whoooooooosh sound occurred as the curtains moved, swaying back and forth. The rustling thrilled me, maybe a sign that Lenore could be calling to me. My heart froze in motion, as it skipped a beat. A feeling of terror overtook my body. I was in a small state of panic. Over and over, I repeated the lines, “It’s somebody who wants to come into my door, another visitor trying to go past my door.”

I kept pacing back and forth through the room, as I finally took the moment to go and open the door.

“Whoever you are outside my door, I’m very sorry for keeping you at bay, it’s just that I was napping, and you tapped ever so gently onto the door, and I really did not hear you.” The door was open, and a whistle of the wind stared me in the face. Nobody was here. Could it be the wind? I thought to myself.

“It was just… a figment of my imagination?” I pondered the question in my head, as I closed the door.

            I walked back into the room, the door locking tight. My insides burned, as I was fooled by my own imagination. How could something I have tricked myself? Another tap pressed on the door, louder than the ones I had heard a few moments ago. Not again… I thought. This tap was closer to the window, however. “I think somebody’s at my window.” I muttered. I glanced at the window for a second, as I neared the open window. A tree branch rubbed against the window, over and over again, making the sound.

            I opened my glass window farther than it was before. I went to go back to my studies. Again, another set of tapping I heard by the window. Annoyed, I was about to shut it, while a large dark purple bird swept into the room. It’s wings were spread wide as it perched nicely on my dresser. The great beast squawked, as it curled up into a ball. Strange, but if I heard that closely, it should have said ‘Nevermore’, I thought. Could this be Lenore? I thought again. A symbol to remind me that she is still alive in my heart, I thought again.

“Hmm… maybe it is Lenore…” I said.

            Smiling, I closed the window, and went for the pantry to have the bird rest on something other than my dresser.