The Raven_(0)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary. I was reading through old classic favorites of mine. I was alone in my library. I had to keep pushing my long, cherry red hair out of my face. My parents were away for the night and they simply expected me to be a “good girl”. I had no friends so there was nobody to party with. So i simply retreated to the library.

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.”  I ignored it. It might have simply been one of the maids or someone else. I returned to my book.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December. The number of days dwindling til the date of my 17th birthday. I expected nothing special. My parents had already purchased me a car. I asked for nothing but they always gave me something. All I wanted in life was a black dress, a wonderful man, and a good book. The tapping continued.

“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.
“How odd,” I mused to myself.

“My mind is surely playing tricks on me” i spoke to the air as I returned to my book. I was soon lost in a fantasy of darkness of the night. 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. I began laughing at myself. I had been frightened of a bird of darkness. A bird as dark as my heart, nails, clothes and eyes.

“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!” The raven flutted about once more and landed in my chair. Before my very eyes it began to transform. And in a flash of blinding light there sat a man. The most handsome man I had ever lay eyes on.

He had black hair that was spiked in the front. His eyes were a crimson red. His skin was pale and flawless. He wore no shirt, revealing a smooth, tatooed, chest. The only clothing he wore were tight black jeans. He had a slight smirk on his face.  He spoke in a British accent.

“Nevermore” His voice was melodic, like velvet dragging across my ears.