She walked into the library, eyes upon the vast works of knowledge that surrounded her. There was only so much she knew about books, but she knew what she enjoyed. Walking through isle upon isle of literature, it was rather difficult for her to spot a subject that didn't frighten her. anatomy, history, science; they all seemed to bring up some sort of anxiety or fear that rest silently in her mind.

She continued to look, the isles growing shorter as her options became more and more limited. Something, anything that could catch her eye; anything that seemed to fulfill her unusually dark desires. There was nothing- but one. Sticking out from the shelf slightly, binding deteriorating from age, stood an old, yellowing book. She pulled it out, dust and cobwebs following after. Carrying the book to a vacant table, she noticed the activity of the outside world had begun to pick up. It was if all humanity was waiting for her to select that very book.

Placing the book on the table, she brushed off the book, dust and other such coverings flowing off with every light brush. The words on the cover became clearer for her to read:

"The Complete Tales of Edgar Allen Poe."

Poe.

He was a writer, she knew so much.

He sounded a bit creepy, but he wrote of death,

He wrote of insanity,

He wrote of pain,

so it did not scare her.

The large, script print of the title was quite eerie on its own. Every single word, from "The" to "Poe" (with "Poe" clearly highlighted as the crown of the title) jumped out at her, mesmerizing her as she eyed it over and over again.

The book seemed to say to her:

"Read me, Chrona."

She opened to the first page, not caring much of what it was she would read. The musty dank smell of the aging pages escaped the book and wavered underneath her nose. She ran one hand on the crinkled stained sheet, it's rough feel almost pleasurable to her. She looked down onto the page for the first moment, noticing the same rich font of the title heading the title of the poem.

"The Raven".

Quite an interesting name.

She began to read the poem,

each verse,

each sentence,

every single word of great importance.

She never lifted her eyes from the page, almost as if she feared she would never see those words again. She read slowly, absorbing the feel of the poem in its entire entity.

Beside her knowledge, the world around her grew dark. The sunlight completely disappeared, and the moon did not release its boastful laugh. An unusual amount of crows rested themselves on the trees and land surrounding the school, but one, solitary raven stood in an open window of the library.

One, solitary, red-eyed raven.

She read on, never noticing the strange change in scenery. The library itself grew dark, but a candlelight was her means of illumination. She continued the tale, only one verse left for her to read.

The raven had meanwhile entered the building, his red eyes feasting on the silent, occupied girl. It spread out its wings, holding them in the air before throwing itself off its perch.

She continued to read approaching the final sentence. Out of pure impulse, she had decided to read the final words aloud, as if she were reading to children.

"Shall be lifted, never-"

The red-eyed raven swooped down on her. It grabbed onto what could have been thought of as air or possibly a thread. Chrona attempted to speak, but the final word "more" never left her lips. In a short second, she widened her eyes. Her whole body grew limp, nothing having any feeling. Her head collapsed next to the book, arms dangling wildly. The raven, however, flew straight into the text, its beak slightly ajar as if it were holding something.

Had the bird taken the soul of the girl?

Possibly, but nevermore.