Halloween Story

Hi friends and family, Halloween is upon us and I thought you’d like this little heart warming story (blood curdling) I created. I had fun with the words and intent of Edgar Allan Poe’s THE RAVEN and mixed in some of my own. I’m not sure this can ever be published (without permissions). For now, partake of this, as if it were your last read. If you like it, send it out to your friends. Perhaps it will catch a virus (go viral).

Uncle Edgar’s Halloween Story
by RW Richard

Ah Uncle Edgar, could you tell me a scary story?

Might I suggest, much to my pleasure, you’ll listen once
Then never again will thy cross my door.

No, I entreat thee, dear Uncle; nothing you could say will deplete me.

Alas, then I will plea to you, what digs in and eats me,

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of Christmas lore,While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my kitchen door.‘Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my kitchen door -Only this, and nothing more.’Ah, distinctly I remember t’was a Christmas caroler I dismembered,
A crooner alone outside my kitchen door, said her name was ‘Lenore.’
Into the kitchen she walked, to my cocoa boiling, she hadn’t balked.
Soon Lenore became the course you thought last Christmas’s curried boar.
Alas lad I much regret, such a lovely, she may have given, I bet.
Not to say I could have married, rather our bodies may have parried.
Oh I payed and dearly, do not follow my path even rarely.
Each time I light the kitchen hearth I remember,
Dying embers teasing her ghost upon the floor.Each time I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrowFrom my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for killing Lenore -A lone and foolish maiden who bedeviled me - Lenore -Nameless here for evermore.Alas lad, not speaking her name purchased me nothing more.
T’was then, you see, some ghoul beset me. I hope I do not bore.

Tis a trifle Uncle, nothing more.

Well then I will issue you a serving of gore.
The silken sad uncertain rustling of each blood soaked curtain cords knockingThrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that then, to still the beating of my tricked heart, I stood repeating‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my kitchen door’ -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 kitchen 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. The only word there spoken was my whisper, ‘Lenore!’An echo murmured back, ‘Lenore!’ Merely this and nothing more.Back into the kitchen 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 kitchen lattice;Let me see then, what is the status, and this mystery explore -Let my heart be still a moment. – Tis the wind, nothing more!’Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,In there stepped a stately raven of the deadly 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 kitchen door -Perched upon a pot for boiling just above my kitchen door -Perched, and sat, then spouting, ‘Nevermore.’Much I marveled, this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly.Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
Oh be still. It is just the bird’s name. Then said again to a thrill,
‘Nevermore.’
But the raven, sitting lonely on the pot for boiling, spoke onlyThat one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -Startled at the stillness, I issued,
‘Doubtless what it utters to me is to kill no more,Sent by some unhappy master whom unmerciful disasterFollowed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden boreOf "Sever-nevermore."'But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and pot and door;Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linkingFancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yoreMeant in croaking ‘Nevermore.’This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressingTo the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;This and more I sat divining, could this bird be from Lenore?No, Oh God no, I promise, I shall kill, ahhh, nevermore!Or perchance this feather fiend is the devil, ‘thing of evil! Leave my door’ -Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,Desolate yet all undaunted, on this deserted land enchanted -On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore’ -Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’‘Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting -‘Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!Leave my desolation unbroken! - quit the pot above my door!’
The bird perhaps too high and fast for cleaver thrusting.‘Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form, flurry off I implore!’Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sittingStuffed in the cooking pot just above my kitchen door;And his eyes plucked out and candied, which you my nephew fancied.Harken the black feathered lamp-light streaming shadows on the floor.And my soul from out that shadow there lies floating on the floorShall be lifted - nevermore!

Have I done you in, yet, my dear nephew?

He ran by cleaver and now boiling pot, crashing out my kitchen door.
Into the moonless night, he scampered, shouting just one word,
‘Nevermore.’

Locksley

Well, I have no idea what I'm doing yet. Here's a test message...my first blog. More later.