An Angel in Death

Adapted from Edgar Allen Poe's "Annabel Lee"

Many score years ago, when I was still but a child, I journeyed to a kingdom set on a cliff by the sea, where I very met the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was fair and kind, and the minute we met, she abundantly returned the love that I extended to her. Almost daily we walked, talked, and grew older together; soon we found that we were no longer children, but already youths. We were determined to marry each other as soon as possible and start a new life together by the sea.

But I knew the winged seraphs in heaven above were watching us with growing ire and envy at the love that the girl and I shared, and I knew some dire consequence would befall us—though I knew not how soon it would be.

It happened so suddenly, on one fine day when she and I were taking our daily walk at the edge of the sea. The weather was fair, and the sky was clear; but before we knew it, tall black clouds had billowed above, and with thunderous clap the heavens broke open into the greatest and fiercest torrent ever seen by mankind. I dashed away for shelter beneath a tree, calling for her to follow; but she did not come. Instead she stood as if in a trance at the brink of the cliff, while the storm raged all about her; then she fell to the ground as dead.

Then the storm rushed away as quickly as it had arrived, and I rushed to carry my dear bride-to-be to her house; her hand was stiff and cold, and I feared she was drawing close to the world of the deceased. It was all too late by the time I reached the house, where her kinsmen had already gathered outside to await our arrival. I laid her gently on the ground, and I could see by her bluish lips that she was dead.

After a short ceremony, we placed her in a simple wooden box of oaken slats, and we buried her in the soft soil of the cliff overlooking the sea. My grief was too great to bring tears to my eyes; but I tarried by her grave long after the others had left. That night I lay down on the blackened grass by her side, and soon I began to do this every night whenever I was about to retire.

The doctors later said she had died of a severe strike of pneumonia and shock, but I knew better: the winged seraphs had punished us out of jealousy at our love for one another. But I would not be defeated, and I continued to stay, up to this very day, at night—in the kingdom by the sea—at the side of my sweet Annabel Lee.

Finis