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Lenore - a story about a poem.

currently: chilling while people on the Food Channel cook with carrots.

You find some strange things while cleaning out your computer.
One of the more surprising things I found while looking through my old files was this story I wrote for class in year 10/grade 9/age 15

When I started NCEA, I was pretty lousy with creative writing. At intermediate, I was ACE at it. But something about NCEA English Creative Writing always stuck me with just passing grades. So when I resat this for Level 1 Creative Writing, I was so happy when I got an Excellence grade for it.

I thought I had lost this story forever. The only E I got in creative writing, forgotten in piles and piles of uncared for student work, slowly eaten away by moths. So I was pretty glad when I found it again. And I thought I'd share. Call this a short bedtime story (though not the most pleasant story you'd want to read at bedtime.)

This was inspired by Edgar Allen Poe's poem, 'The Raven' which I was studying in class at the time.

Her head laid on the velvet cushion. Weary and spiritless, she shifted herself to glimpse the time on the clock that hung above the mantle of the fireplace. The time was only past dawn, but she felt unwilling to escape the comfort of the silken sheets. She turned to rest on her back and face the ceiling, observing the marbled d├ęcor that she herself has specifically chosen, each magnificent design overflowing with detail. Each unblinking gaze upon the swirling cream colours let herself slip into a memory of the night before.

She stood in the doorway of the hall, looking towards the front entrance. The grand door was open, letting winter’s cold wind to pass through. He stood there. A man of great stature and wealth, he glanced in his reflection in the nearby mirror. Wearing a long coat and neatly pressed black pants, he finally placed his top hat above tidily brushed dark hair. Without turning to her, he headed towards the door.
“I shall return in the morrow”.

She blinked. The sun was now brighter, streaming through the cracks in the purple curtains. She stretched her arm across the bed, her hand sweeping over the bitter sheets where he normally slept. She felt sadness at the sight of the untouched cushion, brushing it like a delicate feather. Gradually she got out of bed. The lace of her dress swept across the cold floor as she carefully walked.

The moon in the night sky shone through the blanket of clouds. She walked up to him, full of mixed emotions. Grabbing his arms, she looked hard at him with a longing gaze, unable to say words, holding him back. He took her hands and pushed them harshly away from him.
“Is time now. I must leave Lenore,” he said in a rough voice, his head low.
Quickly, he turned to grab his bag and leave in haste. The moonlight followed him down the cobblestone footpath to the carriage waiting for him. He gave one last look at her, before quickly shifting his gaze towards the driver. He mumbled some words and with his head facing away from her, the carriage rode off. And at the doorstep, she dejectedly stood, rotating the ring on her finger till he left her view.

She stared at her image in the elegant mirror. Long blonde hair waved down the small of her back. Marble skin and piercing sapphire eyes placed on a heart shaped face. She wore a milk coloured dress that showed off her curved silhouette. And on her left hand was her ring. She began to rotate her ring again, slowly sliding it off her finger into her right hand. She felt chills as the air became dense. Her breathing grew deeper. Little by little, crystal tears began to run like a waterfall as her reflection crumpled before her. She placed the ring on the floor, and with one last look, she ran out of the house.

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