Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
Late one night a lone man laid bent over his desk, mind quickly losing battle to his body who demanded sleep. It was in his near slumber, cheek pressed against paper covered with words of enchantment, that he swore he heard a faint scratching. Upon hearing such a sound, the young man turned his head and mumbled,
"Alfred, the door."
But upon the utterance of such a statement, Matthew realized he was alone, and such a person wasn't there. No, Matthew recalled as he looked around the room, Alfred has been lost for a while now; the cause of the state in which Matthew was left in, pouring himself over shared journals they shared and lost in memories of his lost love.
Curious as to the late night caller, Matthew adjusted his coat and stood slowly as he regarded the door. "Sir? Madam? Forgive my rudeness; I had not heard you make your presence known for the fact I was—" Matthew opened the door wide and only met the darkness that had fallen. "…Sleeping," he finished lamely and looked about, thinking maybe in his relaxed pace they had departed.
Turning back into his room, Matthew ran a shaky hand through his hair as the cruel wind howled and beat against the window, startling him in his darkened room. Listening on, Matthew realized that it was not the wind that shook the window but a form of knock, a sound no wind or tree could reproduce.
With mild trepidation he paced over to the window and languidly pulled back the lock to open the room up to at most his visitor, and in the very least some fresh air. It was the moment the window opened large enough, however, that a large dark form slipped inside and flew by him.
Scared from the sudden entry, Matthew had fallen to his knees, cursing himself and the devil as he descended. When he turned his tired and sullen eyes upward, he finally saw his true visitor: darkness personified.
As if he were the victim of some cruel joke, Matthew sat on the ground clutching the fabric of his shirt as he gazed up in fear and alarm to the figure who clung to the wall above his door and just below his light fixture, seemingly unaffected by gravity. While that was alarming in itself, that was not what terrified the shaking blonde— it was the Alfred doppelganger who smiled down to him.
His hair was the colour of a raven's wing, along with the rest of his clothing, glinting in the low light the window brought in by the moon and the light from above his head. He had thin frames just like Alfred, same face, hair style, physical build, and even the same confident smile. Matthew noticed however as this creature possessed a long tail, two wings akin once more to a raven, and curved horns by his temples, the colour of midnight. The only true colour was the piercing blue of his eyes which stared down at him as if he were prey to a hungry bird.
"Alfred? Surely, it can't be you…"
The man just smiled.
"You've been gone for so long…" Matthew was just about to reach out to him with a smile before he faltered. "No, you are merely a figment of my imagination; some spirit sent to torment me."
His smile grew, but still he remained silent.
Matthew struggled to rise onto his feet, leaning heavily onto a nearby chair until he could stand alone. He could feel his heart beat out of control, from fear or hope he didn't know.
"Tell me," Matthew called up brokenly, "if you know of his location, but tell me and I shall be forever in your debt!"
"Nevermore."
A voice so close to that of Alfred echoed his response, lips curled evilly as his wings fluttered about him. Matthew could not believe his ears, and for a split second he could almost hear Alfred's laughter once more. Clutching his chest and stepping forward, Matthew inquired further.
"Nevermore? I do not understand! Please! Tell me! Relate the knowledge you seem to withhold from me!" Matthew took in a laboured breath and chose to mouth the word 'please' once more.
The man merely shook his head, perfectly white teeth on display, along with two pointed canines.
"Spirit!" Matthew shouted hoarsely, "leave me to my heartache. I need not reminders or further cruelty."
"Nevermore."
Staring at this otherworldly creature wearily, Matthew shook his head and moved back to his desk, resembling an old bent man instead of the youth that he was. "This is merely a nightmare. Surely upon the morrow I shall awaken and be free of you."
"Nevermore."
A chill ran down his spine as he picked up on the sadism, the perverse happiness that laced the dark one's statement. Matthew could feel his heart beating ever faster, and his hand shook as he grabbed a nearby book with a dry laugh. "Tell me, what do they call you in the underworld from whence you came?" Silence. "Tell me, what's it like in the shadows? Have you dined with Lucifer himself?" Silence.
Matthew stood, book still in hand, and glared up at the creature. "Do you know of Alfred? Where is he?"
"Nevermore."
"Tell me!" Matthew shrieked and threw his book, watching it slow in the air and fall harmlessly to the ground, avoiding the raven haired man. He stomped over to the creature and stood in his shadow, hands on hips as he cried out, "leave me! You foul creature, thing of evil! Take thy form from above my door and go haunt another!"
"Nevermore."
Tears began to collect in his eyes as he stared into the familiar face. Although it was coloured differently and belonged to another, Matthew wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch his face; see if he felt like Alfred.
"Why…" Matthew choked out, "why him and not me? Alfred, why did you have to go out when I told you not to? Now I'm so alone—"
"Nevermore."
As though he were a young child, Matthew covered his ears and turned away from the creature screaming, chest heaving with his rapid breathing. He was trying to calm down but he couldn't, not with all the thoughts of Alfred flooding his mind. Images of the youthful blonde looking over his shoulder to him, his blue eyes loving and full of kindness as his lips pulled into an inviting smile. Echoes of his laughter reverberated around his mind much louder than before, the memory of his gentle embrace, and the scent of citrus and leather.
"Alfred please, I need you with me!"
Everything grew quiet as the faint aroma of worn leather suddenly invaded his senses, but his reaction was too slow. Matthew's heart stopped when he felt two hands wrap around him, one securing his waist as another circled his throat, all while hot breath puffed against his cheek from the lips pressed against his ear, deceptively tender.
"Nevermore."
The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe