text: Back in the hallway, you look around you. The pale light of the Winter's moon is partially obstructed by clouds, and in its shifting light, your empty house seems grim and ghastly. The portraits on the walls, those of your forefathers, appear to look at you with dead eyes, following your every move. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear the creaking and groaning of your ancient house. 
  
  
  You still can't shake that shiver from your spine, as if a sliver of ice has lodged itself inside it. Trying to expel the ghostly image of Lenore from your mind, you notice the hairs on your arms start to stand upright. This is wrong, this is so very, very wrong. You fear that you might be slowly going insane. The events of the evening so far have left you certainly not unshaken. 
  
  
  Somewhere behind the staircase, a mouse patters off, the thread of its small paws echoing in the empty space. You jump, quite highly. Starting to feel slightly light-headed, you take a few, deep breaths. You swear you can practically hear your nerves shattering if you listen closely enough. Why is this happening to you? 
  
  
  TAP TAP TAP
  
  
  You must have been mistaken. You wish, you wish fiercely that you were mistaken. That infernal tapping, that dreadful noise that has tormented you this evening has returned. As its echo resonates throughout your mind, your gaze turns towards the closed library door at the top of your staircase. Though seemingly left untouched, you know that behind it is the beast, the demon that has been mocking you this entire evening. 
  
  
  Or (you almost don't dare to wish it) might it be Lenore, trying to grab your attention? Surely she couldn't, surely you didn't just see her, or what remains of her. Surely, it is the delusion of your mind that is leading you to wish, to vehemently wish, such impossible thoughts. Then again, are you willing to risk finding out? 
  
  
  While you are contemplating moving back to your library, you hear the sound of creaking floorboards in the living room. 'Tis probably the settling of your ancient house, or the soft patter of the mouse you heard earlier. But then again, you heard a similar sound in the smoke room just moments earlier. 
  
  
  Then again, why should you stay here, in this house of sadness and pain? You remember that you are standing inside the hallway, and that the front door is just behind you. Why should you stay here, tormented by the demons in your mind, if you can escape them quite easily? Surely, if you come back tomorrow, peace and quiet will have returned?
  
  
  As you stand in the dimly illuminated hallway, you feel your fingers twitch slightly. You can't take much more of the night's horrors, you are afraid. It is just too much. With a pounding heart, and shaking legs, you make your decision about where to go next. 
  > You investigate the Library
  A cold wind blows towards you as you open the library door. Though the embers in the hearth have long since died down, the pale light of the Winter's moon is enough to look around. The chamber looks empty and desolate in the bleak light, your tome lying undisturbed where you left it. Yet you immediately notice that something is wrong, the light, for one shouldn't be shining. Wooden shutters, though worn with age, are supposed to keep the night's darkness out, yet now lie broken on the floor amidst a field of splintered glass. Winter's icy breath blows freely within the ancient room. 
  
  
  Looking around, your gaze falls upon the portrait of Lenore, hanging on your library wall. In the strange moonlight, she looks as if she is following you with her eyes, a sad, wane smile upon her lips. Lenore, has she been haunting you tonight? You are not sure, but her spirit, or at least her memories have kept you up this night. You might actually be going insane, but you also kind of want to be able to see her again. 
  
  
  'Nevermore.'
  
  
  A voice behind you calls out in response to your thoughts, that dreadful voice that beckoned you here, creaking with malice. You turn around, expecting an attack by your mysterious tormentor, yet the hallway behind you look grim and desolate. Then a single, feather, black as the darkest night, flutters down from above. As look up, up towards the pallid bust of Pallas high above your chamber door, you see a shadow perching there. A raven, a seemingly normal raven, is perched above the placid bust of Pallas. Yet while you look at him, he stares back with a gaze containing a bottomless abyss. 
  
  
  Prickles run up your spine, and icy tendrils grasp at your mind's defences. You are tired, so very, very tired after this evening. And now, gazing into that black abyss, that demon's soul, you feel a wave of desperation overcome you. Lenore, the light of your life, your eternal love, has never felt so very far away. Not even when you buried her, not even when you thought you saw her earlier, have you felt such a profound sense of loss, and hopelessness. 
  
  
  CAW CAW CAW 
  
  
  The raven, not a flutter, never flitting, utters that dreadful sound that has haunted you tonight. As if its laughing at you, laughing at your loss, laughing at your powerlessness to overcome it. The malicious shadow of death that is haunting you. 
  
  
  'Heartless demon!' You cry out, 'Tormentor from the nightly shore! Have you no mercy for a poor man, mourning the mem'ry of his late Lenore? Take your break from out my chest, and take your form from off my door! Leave me here in peace this evening, let me forget my sweet Lenore.'
  
  
  Quoth the raven 'Nevermore'. 
  
  
  Tears well up in your eyes, and your knees give way beneath you. The image of Lenore, once shining and radiant, has now turned into a mockery, a shadow of her former self. That rare and radiant, saintly-clasped maiden that you once loved, whose portrait still adorns your chamber wall, shall visit you nevermore. Her memory, haunting you like a shadow of despair. 
  
  
  CAW CAW CAW 
  
  
  The raven's cry sounds one last time, mocking you, laughing at your misery. That grim and beastly devil sitting above your chamber door. Snowflakes start to whirl around you, brought in by Winter's breath, through the gaping hole in your window. In the pale moonlight, the raven seems but a shadow against the pallid bust above your door. Yet you know that he is watching you, observing you, peering deep inside your soul. 
  
  
  You meet its gaze once more, its piercing, dead gaze, but cannot find any remorse in it. Silently it watches, waiting tirelessly. For what, only the heavens know. Yet in that cold darkness, in those remorseless eyes, you see that whatever your actions, whatever you do in your life, whatever the cold, lonely future has in stall for you, this demon, this beast, this devil from the nightly realm, shall leave you never- nevermore.