Poe's Writer: The Raven

Poe's Writer: The Raven

There was no storm outside, though there might as well be, for what seems to be a mourning hour burns in my ears...There was no clock in my chamber, and my eyes would not betray themselves by starving their precious gift of the text they fed upon, the forgotten lore. But I could hear the ticking of it, and I could hear the drone of screams, signaling the midnight hour rising. This clock would never cease it's tapping, ticking notions, not even after the drone died out. It kept ticking and ticking, molding into my head until...I awoke. With a start, the tomb in my lap fell to the ground with a thud that would be matched to the dim thunder I would hear; if a thunderstorm existed this night. It wasn't to face and seal the clock's mouth, for there was nonem but rather the ticking of the beast whom laid behind the wooden door of my chamber.
"It is a visitor!"I spoke in uncaring tones, but loudly, as if to convince the alert, albeit invisible dog laying beneath my unclothed feet. "Only this, at my door, Only this, and nothing more."
December, I remembered the time scales of my life. December, where cold lands belonged to the Tempter, feeding those lost in it the moments of depression, deceit, dissatisfaction, and damned decisions. December I blame it on. Lenore, the name itself bringing white thrills in my mind; tortured itself again and again, with me at it's side. Forgotten lore could not cease my increased despairs of Lenore. Lenore, the name killed me, killed me with love and yet complete agony. But it would seem, at this midnight hour, that the only thing that would tower above Lenore would be that villianous tapping, that incredible rapping at my door.
I stood, no longer able to bear its presence. Whomever it was, I would curse if I would, for I would without Lenore. "I hear you, you disturbed beast. Human or spirit, whichever body you have brought, I hear you." I passed across the shelves of books, the companions I had with me, the only fears and cares I could dare possess. I grabbed the doorknob, twisted it ungratefully, and yanked open the wooden blocks that created the boundry between me, and what some would call sanity...
But there WAS no spirit, no human, not even the cold snow to stamp against my door, to make that annoying tapping. But there was no tapping either. But rather, a flapping of wings that beat over my skull and into the now welcoming; but unwelcoming in my mind; room. I threw the door shut with anger, and looked about the ceiling, the encrusted pieces of its past and its present mingling with the smell of complete disgust. The smell of complete disgust that found it's way to my eyes when the beast arrived. That bird. That accursed bird I will never forget, for he stood above me now; perched like the king of beasts upon his ceramic bust. The only beast, with wings, that would forever haunt me. The only bird, without feeling, that would forever taunt me. The only one, forevermore. For this, The Raven, spoke of nevermore.