It is I, The Raven

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A parody of the famous and most favored of the late master of horror's work, "The Raven"

Submitted: January 29, 2017

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Submitted: January 29, 2017



It is I, The Raven 


Here begins my dreadful tale, where hearts chain low and dark wings sail. Where morning slumbers and Night duels, never to fail. 

It began on an evening quite troubled, my poor owner stunned and fumbled in his soul, uncared for, his heart without nurse, oh woe the man!  for he was cursed.

Damned by the demon that lives on the hill, what anger that boils me still. At the hearth of the dancing flames, his silhouette sat frozen, not a word did he speak for now he knew very few. With legs limp and mouth sore, he uttered the words "never more"

What unsalvaged anger built within my striken core! that now he only loved that which could be no more. Oh!, that damned, wretched demon that haunts the hill, waiting for more the innocent souls to steal, upon visits to his cursed tomb where he would deprive them their will and leave only prey for kill.

They call him "Poe", a creature that he is, I will take flight! out into the immortal night I soar, the crest of misfortune did I bore. Into the blanket of stars, past the moons serenade, to be rid of the torture, a point to be made.

I will not sit and allow my poor dear man to suffer in his ordeal, the curse he recieved by that thing on the hill, broken in false brotherhood from friend to battled foe, but I promise his deeds shall be reaped as he so carlessly decided to sew. 

My owner is GONE!, dead do you hear! and I am his redemption, the scorn of every last scream and bitter choked tear. HEAR ME POE!, and hear me well that upon my visit as your reincarnate nightmare on my wings bear hells fury where no man can dwell. 

Through his lattice window, I explored the ancient palace, there he lay with a book of forgotten lore, for a moment I pitied his obscene snore. 

With the glow of his hearth, frolicking withing the gleam of his ivory head, tilted like that of a ungaurded child, he held charm, but I suppose even darkness has its own grace,  
I must make him known of my presence and startle him awake.

Uplifting from the velvet, I went and perched above the bust of palace on his chamber door and waited for what seemed like forever more.

No later had I flutterd that his eyes became unbuttoned, brown almond and dashingly curtained with ink incrested lids, he indeed looked simular to a child, awoken from a dream of turkish delight with no hope of wanting to return here, a living torment, or at least it would be, once he realized 

I was there. 

He passed me by at first, then twice, the poor fool thought the door was the source of his mystery noise, I sat still and poised.

It was then that his gaze happend to land upon the shadows of the roof. 

If one could witness the hault of the heart with a single glance therin, this would have been well enough a golden chance. Here I stood and forever I shall remember that dark and bleak December, the ghost of the man that lye beneath me on his marbled floor will breath but live

never more.

Years have gone, time shaven, and it is  I who guard the great palace gates, having left his mortal home to me in an unplanned will. The flames raged with his soul intact, looking for pardon back.

I roam these grounds now, the shadow of a lost haven, quote forever more

yours, the raven. 

© Copyright 2018 Ebony Quill Hand. All rights reserved.

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