Declartion Death

by Saint Red of Manic

A strange take on Poe's poem 'Lenore', not my best work, it was an assighnment for creative writing. This is usaully not my thing, I like creating my own works out of thin air, so this was a bit half-assed. I added some lines from the original poem as wel

Declaration Death- upon Miss Lenore

It was the melancholy that took her soul, they say, the melancholy that wrenched the poor wretch to her death. But words are folly things and to follow their word, would be despicable.

My eyes glanced over the closed mahogany wood, her death bed. But not her final resting place, time would decay her, worms would poke through her tender white flesh and devour her until she was spread throughout out the black abyss of the underground, the worms digging lower and lower to the epitome of hell, a place where such an innocent youngling of a girl should not be brought, as one would not bring their daughter to a brothel. And there her slumbering pieces will float upon the Stygian river.

It was a beautiful case they lay her in despite; a polished absolution of absoluteness. Yet none would look upon it. Nay, their guilty hearts made their minds fleeting from the thought of the action.

Guilty that they prayed for her fall, "And Ye blessed her that she died!"

But the sweet Lenore hath gone before.

Guy De Vere, with sardonic grins and unflattering, slandering tongue, now tilts his head away from the place, beady black eyes protruding from his pale meat, focused upon the intricately woven pathway yonder. I see, he swells with no tears.

Shall I cry in his stead? No, I shall upraise no dirge this night, I shall not extricate a river from my eyes. I shall breathe into the air, in hopes of wafting the sweet angel upwards.

Let the preacher sing his Sabbath song, sentencing her to her maker, "STOP the bells!" Lest the flight of her soul catch on the whorls of the notes and bring her back down again. Consume the traversing maze of plight; And the indignant ghost is risen.

And the congregation will stand, and bow their crowns to the deceived vision of their own evil; Their endeavors matched by somber nothingness.

Peccavimus.

Author's Note: I played this short write off of Edgar Poe's poem 'Lenore', si I inserted some of the lines for emphasis. 'Peccavimus' is a word meaning 'we have sinned', and Poe uses it in almost every one of his poems.

Paige Fallon

Period 5