The Tragedy of Lenore
It was clear from the beginning that something was wrong. An eerie quiet had settled on the city that was usually so full of life. Something was going to happen, and soon. Even the Earth seemed to feel it; the wind was rustling the leaves on the trees nervously, and the sun was hiding behind a blanket of dark clouds.
Despite the unsettling atmosphere, one young girl could not wait to get outside. She was always impatient on days when her father took her into town because she loved to look into the windows of colorful shops. And sometimes, she would get a treat when she behaved well.
The girl was hopping up and down excitedly, her long, blond hair bouncing around her. She was eight years old, but she often forgot to act her age.
"Come on, Papa! Hurry up!" she squeaked.
He chuckled to himself, but continued lacing his shoes. He, at least, was not in any particular hurry; he had a meeting to go to for work, and he wasn't looking forward to it. Finally, he stood up and grabbed his hat and coat.
"Let's go."
Once they were outside, he immediately regretted it. The clouds look like they could burst open at any moment, and he didn't want to be caught in a storm. But when he looked into his daughter's eager face, he found himself unable to disappoint her.
She skipped far ahead of him and disappeared behind a corner. He wasn't too concerned at first, but by the time he reached that corner, she was nowhere in sight.
"Lenore?" he said."Come out! There will be time for games later."
He looked around and called for his daughter, nervously at first but getting more and more frantic by the minute.
"Lenore! Get out here right now! This is not funny!" he shouted, as he ran down the worn brick road.
Meanwhile, Lenore's quick pace had taken her far away from her father; when she ran ahead, she had gone in the opposite direction. Now she realized that she had no idea where she was, but she couldn't remember how she had gotten here. The few people around looked wrong to her somehow, although she was too young to understand how. She had no way of knowing that their tattered clothes and run-down houses signified a bad part of town. All she knew was that she didn't want to approach them and draw their attention to her.
When the rain started coming down, she began to cry. She tried to find her father, but the streets were a hopeless maze to her. She walked along, searching desperately for something she recognized. Just as she was about to give up, she spotted a man walking briskly down the street. He was wrapped tightly in a coat that looked like her father's.
Relieved, she shouted, "Papa! I'm over here!"
The man did not turn. She figured that he hadn't heard her over the rain, which was a reasonable assumption; it was coming down in sheets as if the clouds had open their floodgates.
She ran after him, trying to get his attention so that he would slow down. At last, she managed to grab his jacket and pull on it. He flinched, and spun around.
"Papa, it's only me!" she said, chuckling. He looked relieved, and motioned for her to follow him.
She couldn't really see his face under the hat, but she was sure that the coat belonged to her father. When he set off at the same speedy pace as before, she didn't think it was that odd. She had probably made him late for his work, so they needed to move quickly. She was sorry for this, but she was busy lamenting the fact that she probably wouldn't get a treat. She had really been looking forward to trying one of those colorful candies that she had seen in a shop window.
When the man finally stopped, they were in front of an old brick building that looked like it could fall over at any minute. It had no windows, and the lawn was a mess.
That's odd, she thought. Normally Papa works in pretty places.
She followed him inside anyway. He was her father, and she trusted him completely. She found a chair on the other side of the room and sat down, prepared to wait as long as it took for her father to do his work.
That is, until he removed his coat and hat, and lit an oil lamp. The face that was visible in the dim, flickering light was not her father's. His pointed chin and brown hair looked normal enough, but something about the man's eyes made her want to run and hide.
She darted toward the door, but he was faster. He stood over her, staring with those awful eyes.
"You saw, didn't you?" he asked in a soft voice. He took a small step toward her.
"I don't know what you're talking about! I just want to find my Papa!" she said, fearfully.
"I don't believe you. Tell me what you know! Who sent you?" he said, his voice rising. It was high for a man's voice, and it sent chills down Lenore's spine.
"I don't know what you're talking about! Please let me out of here!" Panic was creeping into her voice.
"That won't be possible. You've already seen my face. You're a witness."
In the meantime, Lenore's father had searched all over the area for her. When he'd had no luck finding her, he went to the police. They were more concerned than he expected them to be.
"I don't want to alarm you," said one officer, "but there have been a few murders in the area lately. I'll get everyone I can to help find your daughter right away!"
The police divided into a few small groups, and began looking for the lost girl. They went from door to door, and asked the people of the city if they had seen Lenore. Along the way, some citizens volunteered to help in the search. Soon, there were many groups all over the city. A single flower of hope began to blossom in the father's chest. Maybe we will find her, he thought. Maybe she'll be fine. Lost and scared, but fine.
After searching for a while, a man ran towards them. Lenore's father recognized him as a police officer from another group. He ran straight to the chief of police, who was leading that particular group. The newcomer whispered into the chief's ear. The chief's eyes widened, and he cleared his throat.
"The search is over everyone. I thank you for your efforts," he announced. And then he turned to Lenore's father. "I think you'd better accompany me to my office."
"They have found her, then?" Lenore's father asked. "They found my Lenore?"
But the police chief refused to speak until they had reached his office, and he had closed the door.
Sadness filled his eyes as he said,"Sir, I'm very sorry to tell you that they found your daughter, but it was too late. The killer reached her before we did. We caught him at the scene, standing over her. He has been arrested, and he will pay for what he has done."
Tears were streaming down the father's cheeks, "Then my Lenore... My dear, sweet Lenore... She's..."
"I'm terribly sorry."
A funeral was held a few days later. A large crowd clothed entirely in black was there. Everyone wept, for Lenore had been loved by all who knew her. Her parents stood closest to the coffin. They looked small and transparent, as if their souls had died along with their child. Even the heavens seemed to mourn the loss of Lenore; the light rain that fell from the sky was like tears.
This tragedy was watched from above, by an unseen observer. His gaze was focused on one man in particular. His sharp eyes watched as silent tears streamed the father's face. He knew that the father was drowning in a deep ocean of sorrow and self-loathing. And he knew exactly what the father needed to hear. He knew all, for he was the Raven.