Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and
weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"Tis a visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door.
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was the first of September,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to settle
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for Kim Possible.
For the radiant maiden whom the angels name Kim Possible,
Nameless here, unchangeable.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each fabric curtain
Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door —
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; —
This it is, and nothing more."
Edgar Allen Poe - The Raven (Okay, sort of. I edited the lines a little.)
______________________________________________________________________________________________
It was late night at the Possible
household, almost midnight. Mr. and Mrs. Possible were asleep in their beds,
reliving days and their adventures gone by. Jim and Tim were asleep in their
bed, dreaming of the mischief the morrow would bring. rons_gurl was sleeping on
the couch in front of the fireplace, sleeping dreamlessly. However, not all was
right, for two members of the household were still awake . . .
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ratigan was sitting on the bed in
Kim's old room. Almost instinctively, he raised a finger, and started to trace
a pattern in the darkness, and as Ratigan traced it, the shape and outline of
Kim Possible slowly formed in the darkness, a light neon green shining in the
darkness.
"Why can't I get her out of
my mind?", Ratigan asked himself. "I know she's been dead for
several months, but I still can't shake the theory that she might still be
alive." He pondered the thought, then mentally slapped himself.
"You're dreaming. You saw
Kim's body. You saw her die. But why do you still think that she might
still be alive?" He had finished tracing the outline of Kim Possible
by now, and he stared at it for a moment, recollecting an old bit of wisdom
Basil had said once ,"When logic and reasoning fail you, always trust
your instincts." Perhaps it was time to take this advice at hand and use
it . . .
Suddenly, the window opened up, the
wind blowing in, causing the picture to waver and fade away to nothingness.
Ratigan sighed, then got up and walked out the doorway. He gingerly stepped
down the hallway towards the picture of Kim that her parents had hung up as a
memoriam to her. "Why do you still haunt me, Kim? Why?", he asked the
picture. Suddenly, a hand tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to wheel
around to face . . . . Veeken.
"Are you okay?", she
asked, her fear evident.
"Yes, I'm . . . fine", he
replied, his voice unsteady.
Veeken turned to the picture,
sighed, and then turned to Ratigan. "She's been dead for several months
now."
"I know", Ratigan
replied. "You wouldn't understand, Veeken. To you, she was like a friend,
but to me . . . ", he left off, unable to continue. It still hurt, even
though time was supposedly able to heal all wounds. Kim was more like a
step-daughter to Ratigan than any of them ever knew up until after she died.
Veeken noted Ratigan's somber look.
Ratigan had been like this most of the time since Kim had died, because he
blamed himself partially for Kim's death. "Well," she said finally,
"I'm going downstairs and try to get some sleep." She headed towards
the stairs, then briefly turned back to Ratigan. "Are you sure you're
okay?", she reiterated.
"Yeah.", Ratigan replied
a monotone. "This is serious." Veeken thought. "As
long as I've known him, he's rarely said "Yeah". It was usually
"Yes"." She turned back to the staircase, only stopping to
say "Good night, dad."
"You too.", Ratigan
replied. When Veeken had disappeared from sight, he walked back into Kim's
former room, walking over to the window. He opened it slowly, staring up into
space. The sky was a dark blue, with a rare few stars scattered across the vast
space. A fresh surge of pain welled up inside his chest, not unlike the one he
felt when he saw Kim's picture.
"You said you'd always
be there for me!", he exclaimed to the stars, as if trying to
summon Kim back from the dead. "But you're not . . . And it's because of me
. . . It's my fault . . . It's my fault . . .", he trailed off, choking
back sobs.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Possible household was as
normal a household as all the rest. But, as Basil approached, his ears
identified a sound that caused the house to stand out from the others. It was a
low sobbing of pain and anguish. "Too deep to be any of the Possible
household, but it isn't rons_gurl or Veeken.", he thought. "So
that leaves only . . . Oh, God."
He looked up towards Kim's old
room, where the sound seemed to be coming from, and saw the silhouette of
Ratigan, sitting on the bed, crying; mourning for Kim, his form shaking from
the sobs. As Basil took all this in, he felt a single tear trickle down his
face . . .
