Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2014 22:50:53 GMT -4
Once upon a Midnight Dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary
The Night itself was cool, the leaves of the forest looming overhead, blotting out the moon with the dense foliage. The creatures of the forest not daring to move about too much for fear of predators looming within the pitch blackness.
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore
Deep within the bowels of the forest, a form could just barely be made out, should anyone or anything approach from directly in front of it. Nestled silently and all but invisible to the rest of the world, just below a tall old oak. The form itself was vague and hard to make out, but should anyone or anything get close enough or have the proper vision, they could just make out a person curled against the trunk of the tree, book in hand.
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a rapping
Silence remained for the most part within the forest, except for the usual sounds of the nocturnal wild life. Some hunting, some darting in and out of the underbrush in attempt to seek shelter in order to remain living. No breath could be heard from the person beneath the tree, nothing but the occasional rustle of paper as pages were turned, though this, too seemed to be becoming less and less frequent as the night slowly wore on. Soon however, the sound of knocking flooded through the trees, the noise seemingly coming from within the tree the person was seated beneath.
As if someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door
The form beneath the tree seemed to stop, what was presumably it's head tilting up to look at the branches above it, seeming to search for the reason for the noise at such a late hour.
"Tis some Visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door - Only this and nothing more."
The sounds stopped briefly after it started, the form's head moving back down into position as the person curled tighter beneath the tree, seeming to go back to it's reading. The usual sounds of the forest continued on, filling the forest once more with a sense of quiet ease.
Ah, Distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December
Finally, the winter winds seemed to break through the thick trees, rustling leaves and tugging mercilessly at branches, the chill sending smaller animals and birds into nests and dens in attempt to keep warm.
And each separate dying ember, wrought it's ghost upon the floor.
Shadows swirled within the forest as prey and predator alike retreated to shelter, far up, beyond the canopy of the forest, the once clear night began to darken even more, thick, puffy clouds forming, slowly taking over the moon. About a foot away from the form, a small fire started, seemingly by itself, flickering and whipping softly in the winds.
Eagerly I wished the Marrow; - Vainly I had sought to borrow from my books surcease of sorrow
The form seemed to move, if only for a moment closer to the small fire, while still remaining in the shadows so as not to be seen. It was clear the form was still held deeply intrigued by the book within it's hands, the rustling of the pages seeming to steadily grow more frequent.
Sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden that the angels name Lenore -
The form itself once more ceased movement, the wind blowing heavier now, chilling the forest floor and nearly putting the small fire out as pages could be heard, once more slowly being turned as the reader continued.
Nameless here, Forever more
The wind picked up again, howling through the forest, as if mourning over the loss of something. The leaves shuddered, and the creatures within the forest stilled completely, no sound could be heard for miles around, as if everything waited with bated breath for something to happen. Even the person seated beneath the tree ceased reading to listen to the howling of the wind, taking care to allow the on coming storm voice its opinion.
And the silken, sad, uncertain, rustling of each purple curtain
Once again, the leaves shivered and rustled on the branches, dancing in the wind as it continued to roar through the trees, collecting a few stragglers along the way, whipping them into tree trunks and branches.
Thrilled me - Filled me with fantastic horrors that I've never felt before
The form started as thunder rumbled it's dark intent high above the tree tops. Clouds gathering low within the atmosphere, swirling listlessly amongst one another.
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
Lightning crashed against a tree along the outskirts of the forest, causing it to catch fire almost instantly, wild life within the deeper parts of the forest becoming restless despite the raging winds. Soon, a light flurry of snow began to bombard the residents of the forest as the wind continued to pick up.
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— This it is and nothing more.”
Once more, as the winds picked up, a rapping, or knocking could be heard coming from above the form that now took shelter against the tree it had once relaxed below. The book now safely tucked away on the person's body, it looked once again to the branches of the tree, attempting to figure out what could be making such a noise.
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
The form took hold of the trunk, easily finding its way up the massive base and headed silently toward the sound, courage or curiosity seeming to get the best of the creature as it moved ever higher within the tree.
“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.
As the creature disappeared into the branches of the tree, being covered now by leaves, despite the wind's insistence that anything not anchored down should be ripped free from the trunks and branches the form continued it's search of the branches to attempt to find what was making such an odd sound.
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 stillness 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.
The form climbed ever higher, battling the winds in it's quest to find the sound. The wind continued to howl, echoing the chatter of restless animals and birds when slightly calmer, though the rapping seemed to only grow louder.
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!”
About half way up the tree, the wind howled harshly though the leaves, tearing a weaker branch from it's seat upon the noble oak. The form clung tight to the trunk, fighting its way up the tree ever further, snow and icy wind blasting chills across the creature's body.
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.
As the knocking grew ever closer, the form slowed, battling the wind and snow ever fiercer, though the cause of the ruckus was just within sight. Coming upon a final branch, a Raven sat, indifferent to the snow and high winds, pecking ruthlessly at a hole within the trunk of the tree.
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.”
The form stared silently at the stately bird, which, upon taking note of the presence of the newcomer ceased all movement and sat, staring into what it percieved as the eyes of the person that had come face to face with it.
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 upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.”
With one hand holding fast to the branch, the form carefully reached up and removed it's hood, revealing a woman of goddess like beauty. Her pale skin practically glowed against the darkened, wind swept leaves while her crimson lips curved up into a familiar smile. Deep ocean blue eyes sparkled with delight and familiarity as the woman and bird stared at each other for a long moment.
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 farther 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.”
As woman and bird stared at each other with silent observation, the woman seemed to only become more giddy. Her familiarity with the bird was indeed definite, as if seeing an old, cherished friend after more then ten years of parting. She spoke finally, softly, though the wind caught her voice and overrode it with it's howling. "It's been a while."
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’.”
The bird did nothing at first, other than tilt it's head as if attempting to follow the sound of her voice. Though soon it went back to staring at her, it's wings hardly ruffled by the wind that should have pushed any other bird, or human for that matter, plummeting to the ground.
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy 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.”
The female watched as the bird reacted to her, her smile widening as she reached out with her free hand to let a gentle hand glide down the plumage of the stately fowl. Again the bird tilted it's head, this time as if questioning the woman's intentions.
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!
The woman continued to eye the bird, keeping contact with it as if silently communicating with an old friend. Neither bird nor woman blinked as their gazes stayed on one another, neither seeming effected the by storm as it blew snow and wind across their faces.
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 hath 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.”
Finally the woman spoke again, this time raising her voice above the din of the howling winds, her eyes never straying from the bird as her smile ever grew wider, her anxiousness growing more and more with the anticipation of what was yet to come. "Come now. as I said, It has been a while."
“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.”
The bird tilted it's head once more, and yet still made no acknowledgement of the woman except for constant eye contact. It was clear that this response from the ever majestic bird frustrated her to no end, her excited gaze turning to that of frustration in what seemed like the blink of an eye.
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 name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
"Were you not the one I sent for... Are you not my messenger then.. has this tempest not been like the one of so long ago? The one that made our namesake famous?" The woman questioned haughtily, clearly aggravated with the bird's continued silence. She was sure it could her over the din of the storm now, her voice having been purposely raised.
“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.”
The bird tilted it's head once more, first to one side, then the other as if it could understand, yet not comprehend what she was saying. Her aggravation only rose, pushing her to climb onto the branch next to the stoic animal and allow it onto her lap should it choose, though it never seemed to move an inch, other than it's head, clearly trying to keep eye contact with her.
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!
Finally the woman grew utterly frustrated, discerning for herself that she was mistaken about the bird she had thought she had found once more. As she attempted her decent down the tree, the bird hopped onto her hand and stood, as if not wanting her to leave just yet. The woman frowned more, her features twisting with anger as she thought of swatting the creature away. "I will ask you this then, and if you should choose not to reply, I will leave and you will have nothing to do with me again." The woman's voice flowed like silk, yet a dark undertone made her sound as if she would have attacked the bird at any moment. "What, dear brethren, have they named you?"
Finally, the bird ruffled it's feathers, balanced itself upon her hand and with a short snap of it's beak answered the woman with one word.... "NeverMore."
The Night itself was cool, the leaves of the forest looming overhead, blotting out the moon with the dense foliage. The creatures of the forest not daring to move about too much for fear of predators looming within the pitch blackness.
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore
Deep within the bowels of the forest, a form could just barely be made out, should anyone or anything approach from directly in front of it. Nestled silently and all but invisible to the rest of the world, just below a tall old oak. The form itself was vague and hard to make out, but should anyone or anything get close enough or have the proper vision, they could just make out a person curled against the trunk of the tree, book in hand.
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a rapping
Silence remained for the most part within the forest, except for the usual sounds of the nocturnal wild life. Some hunting, some darting in and out of the underbrush in attempt to seek shelter in order to remain living. No breath could be heard from the person beneath the tree, nothing but the occasional rustle of paper as pages were turned, though this, too seemed to be becoming less and less frequent as the night slowly wore on. Soon however, the sound of knocking flooded through the trees, the noise seemingly coming from within the tree the person was seated beneath.
As if someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door
The form beneath the tree seemed to stop, what was presumably it's head tilting up to look at the branches above it, seeming to search for the reason for the noise at such a late hour.
"Tis some Visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door - Only this and nothing more."
The sounds stopped briefly after it started, the form's head moving back down into position as the person curled tighter beneath the tree, seeming to go back to it's reading. The usual sounds of the forest continued on, filling the forest once more with a sense of quiet ease.
Ah, Distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December
Finally, the winter winds seemed to break through the thick trees, rustling leaves and tugging mercilessly at branches, the chill sending smaller animals and birds into nests and dens in attempt to keep warm.
And each separate dying ember, wrought it's ghost upon the floor.
Shadows swirled within the forest as prey and predator alike retreated to shelter, far up, beyond the canopy of the forest, the once clear night began to darken even more, thick, puffy clouds forming, slowly taking over the moon. About a foot away from the form, a small fire started, seemingly by itself, flickering and whipping softly in the winds.
Eagerly I wished the Marrow; - Vainly I had sought to borrow from my books surcease of sorrow
The form seemed to move, if only for a moment closer to the small fire, while still remaining in the shadows so as not to be seen. It was clear the form was still held deeply intrigued by the book within it's hands, the rustling of the pages seeming to steadily grow more frequent.
Sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden that the angels name Lenore -
The form itself once more ceased movement, the wind blowing heavier now, chilling the forest floor and nearly putting the small fire out as pages could be heard, once more slowly being turned as the reader continued.
Nameless here, Forever more
The wind picked up again, howling through the forest, as if mourning over the loss of something. The leaves shuddered, and the creatures within the forest stilled completely, no sound could be heard for miles around, as if everything waited with bated breath for something to happen. Even the person seated beneath the tree ceased reading to listen to the howling of the wind, taking care to allow the on coming storm voice its opinion.
And the silken, sad, uncertain, rustling of each purple curtain
Once again, the leaves shivered and rustled on the branches, dancing in the wind as it continued to roar through the trees, collecting a few stragglers along the way, whipping them into tree trunks and branches.
Thrilled me - Filled me with fantastic horrors that I've never felt before
The form started as thunder rumbled it's dark intent high above the tree tops. Clouds gathering low within the atmosphere, swirling listlessly amongst one another.
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
Lightning crashed against a tree along the outskirts of the forest, causing it to catch fire almost instantly, wild life within the deeper parts of the forest becoming restless despite the raging winds. Soon, a light flurry of snow began to bombard the residents of the forest as the wind continued to pick up.
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— This it is and nothing more.”
Once more, as the winds picked up, a rapping, or knocking could be heard coming from above the form that now took shelter against the tree it had once relaxed below. The book now safely tucked away on the person's body, it looked once again to the branches of the tree, attempting to figure out what could be making such a noise.
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
The form took hold of the trunk, easily finding its way up the massive base and headed silently toward the sound, courage or curiosity seeming to get the best of the creature as it moved ever higher within the tree.
“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.
As the creature disappeared into the branches of the tree, being covered now by leaves, despite the wind's insistence that anything not anchored down should be ripped free from the trunks and branches the form continued it's search of the branches to attempt to find what was making such an odd sound.
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 stillness 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.
The form climbed ever higher, battling the winds in it's quest to find the sound. The wind continued to howl, echoing the chatter of restless animals and birds when slightly calmer, though the rapping seemed to only grow louder.
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!”
About half way up the tree, the wind howled harshly though the leaves, tearing a weaker branch from it's seat upon the noble oak. The form clung tight to the trunk, fighting its way up the tree ever further, snow and icy wind blasting chills across the creature's body.
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.
As the knocking grew ever closer, the form slowed, battling the wind and snow ever fiercer, though the cause of the ruckus was just within sight. Coming upon a final branch, a Raven sat, indifferent to the snow and high winds, pecking ruthlessly at a hole within the trunk of the tree.
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.”
The form stared silently at the stately bird, which, upon taking note of the presence of the newcomer ceased all movement and sat, staring into what it percieved as the eyes of the person that had come face to face with it.
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 upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.”
With one hand holding fast to the branch, the form carefully reached up and removed it's hood, revealing a woman of goddess like beauty. Her pale skin practically glowed against the darkened, wind swept leaves while her crimson lips curved up into a familiar smile. Deep ocean blue eyes sparkled with delight and familiarity as the woman and bird stared at each other for a long moment.
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 farther 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.”
As woman and bird stared at each other with silent observation, the woman seemed to only become more giddy. Her familiarity with the bird was indeed definite, as if seeing an old, cherished friend after more then ten years of parting. She spoke finally, softly, though the wind caught her voice and overrode it with it's howling. "It's been a while."
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’.”
The bird did nothing at first, other than tilt it's head as if attempting to follow the sound of her voice. Though soon it went back to staring at her, it's wings hardly ruffled by the wind that should have pushed any other bird, or human for that matter, plummeting to the ground.
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy 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.”
The female watched as the bird reacted to her, her smile widening as she reached out with her free hand to let a gentle hand glide down the plumage of the stately fowl. Again the bird tilted it's head, this time as if questioning the woman's intentions.
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!
The woman continued to eye the bird, keeping contact with it as if silently communicating with an old friend. Neither bird nor woman blinked as their gazes stayed on one another, neither seeming effected the by storm as it blew snow and wind across their faces.
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 hath 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.”
Finally the woman spoke again, this time raising her voice above the din of the howling winds, her eyes never straying from the bird as her smile ever grew wider, her anxiousness growing more and more with the anticipation of what was yet to come. "Come now. as I said, It has been a while."
“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.”
The bird tilted it's head once more, and yet still made no acknowledgement of the woman except for constant eye contact. It was clear that this response from the ever majestic bird frustrated her to no end, her excited gaze turning to that of frustration in what seemed like the blink of an eye.
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 name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
"Were you not the one I sent for... Are you not my messenger then.. has this tempest not been like the one of so long ago? The one that made our namesake famous?" The woman questioned haughtily, clearly aggravated with the bird's continued silence. She was sure it could her over the din of the storm now, her voice having been purposely raised.
“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.”
The bird tilted it's head once more, first to one side, then the other as if it could understand, yet not comprehend what she was saying. Her aggravation only rose, pushing her to climb onto the branch next to the stoic animal and allow it onto her lap should it choose, though it never seemed to move an inch, other than it's head, clearly trying to keep eye contact with her.
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!
Finally the woman grew utterly frustrated, discerning for herself that she was mistaken about the bird she had thought she had found once more. As she attempted her decent down the tree, the bird hopped onto her hand and stood, as if not wanting her to leave just yet. The woman frowned more, her features twisting with anger as she thought of swatting the creature away. "I will ask you this then, and if you should choose not to reply, I will leave and you will have nothing to do with me again." The woman's voice flowed like silk, yet a dark undertone made her sound as if she would have attacked the bird at any moment. "What, dear brethren, have they named you?"
Finally, the bird ruffled it's feathers, balanced itself upon her hand and with a short snap of it's beak answered the woman with one word.... "NeverMore."
Dawson Cates
