text: The dead branches outside the large window rustle softy in the wind, whispering softly in the pallid light.. Pale snowflakes dance their ghastly dance before they fade away on the frozen ground. Shadows move silently over the floor as the full moon travels through the heavens. A grandfather clock calls nearly inaudible from the hallway, announcing the ghost hour with a faint 'DONG'. The ancient house around you creaks and crunches as if it's stirring in some deep sleep.
  
  Your mind barely registers your surroundings as you are sitting inside your comfortable chair. The library is almost completely engulfed by shadows, safe for the dying embers in the hearth next to you. Reading some dusty tome about knowledge which most people have already forgotten, you often forget that the house around you even exists. However, tonight you can't keep your eyes open. Nearly nodding, nearly napping you try to continue reading, but you notice you've already read the same line seven times over. With a sigh, you decide to give in and rest your eyes for a little while.
  
  Images from long forgotten times unfold themselves in front of your mind's eye. A garden in spring time. The morning sun shimmers on the surface of a blue lake. Two swans glide side by side near the water's edge. Pebbles crunch as a beautiful woman runs towards you. Wearing a plain white dress, with a skin like...
  
  TAP TAP TAP
  
  You are roughly awaken by a sudden tapping at your door. Desperately you try to cling on to your memories, but they fade away like shadows before the sun. With one foot still in Morpheus' realm you wonder if the noise was merely part of your dream. With a curt shrug  you decide to return to your book, when suddenly...
  
  RAP RAP RAP
  
  Fear begins to wrap it's shadowy fingers around your heart. 'Tis just some visitor', you mutter to yourself, 'only this, and nothing more'. With a mind still firmly in sweet dream's grasp, but tempted by curiosity, and fear, you decide to...
  
   
  
   
  > open the door.
  With your hands and legs trembling you lift yourself from your chair. Slowly shuffling trough the cold shadows you feel a chill tingling at your spine. Feeling more and more unsettled you notice the rhythmic swaying of your purple curtains. Against your better judgement this image thrills you, fills you with fantastic terrors, the likes you've never felt before.
  
  To still the beating of your heart you stand near the door, repeating to yourself: 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door. Some late visitor at my door. But why would a visitor come knocking at my chamber door, in stead of the front... No, do not dwell upon these thoughts. Tis some visitor, and nothing more.'
  
  With your trembling hand extended you reach for the gleaming brass knob. As your hand envelops the cold metal you stand frozen in place, neither capable of opening the door, nor relinquishing you grip. While all of your instincts are raging within you, you open the door. 
  
  The creaking of the rusty hinges pierces your ears and torments your mind. It takes hours before the door is finally open and the darkness of the hallway comes pouring into the library. Shadows and dust whirl around each other, moved by the smallest wind created by opening the door. You gaze at this play when you realize the hallway is empty. Shadows and dust, and nothing more.
  
   
  > continue...
  Softly whispering, but slowly strengthening, you call into the black abyss: Sir, or madam, I implore your forgiveness. I was napping while reading a book and so gently came your rapping that I scarce was sure I heard you. Please good sir, or madam, make yourself known.'
  
  You look around once more, but no further sounds can be heard coming from the shadows. Strange thoughts and dreams circle through your mind, but still the darkness gives no token. Wary, you whisper with a trembling voice: 'Lenore?' Silence follows, but an echo murmurs back this one word: 'Lenore!'
  
  As you turn to return to the chamber, you once more feel an ominous tingling in your spine. With a beating heart you once more survey your surroundings. The hallway is the same as before, although the dance of dust and shadow has ended, and yet you can't shake of the feeling that someone, or something, is watching you. Suddenly the silence is broken by a ghastly noise, that same noise that led you into this darkness.
  
  TAP TAP TAP
  
  This time it is louder than the last. As your heart once more tries to leap out of your chest, you can feel the air grow colder. Shaking and shivering you try to determine the origin of that dreadful noise. Warily, you turn your head, convinced that an unknown assailant can reveal itself at any moment. Yet only shadows surround you. Anxiously, you keep repeating to yourself: 'There's nothing here but shadows and dust. Tis a leaking pipe that's making that noise, that it is and nothing more.'
  
  Feeling slightly more secure you are about to return to the library, just as the eerie sound returns once more.
  
  TAP TAP TAP   TAP TAP TAP   TAP TAP TAP
  
  Startled, you look around and you notice the door near the end of the hallway. It's there were the origin of that noise resides. As you continue to gaze upon it, the doorknob begins to rattle, turned by an invisible hand, and the tapping sound strengthens.
  > thoroughly scared, you retreat into the library.
  With a pounding heart, you slam the doors of the library shut, trying to block out the shadows and demons of your minds eye. In the pale light of the hearth's dying embers, you stand panting. With your heart beating in your chest, pounding in your throat, you feel light-headed. 
  
  'Surely 'tis but a passing fancy, a shadow of an imaginative mind. There is really nothing wrong, as in the morning you shall find. You have never been a madman, nor have you have been told you are. Let us not start doubting now, 'tis a fancy by far. Let's just continue reading my book, that'll calm me down. It is winter, it is cold, it is the season to feel unsettled.'
  
  Still slightly trembling, you sit down in your comfortable chair, and pick up your volume of long-forgotten knowledge. Though the words tend to jumble and jump in front of your eyes, an aftereffect of your shaken heart, the gathering of knowledge does sooth your spirits. After a few minutes pass, you have all but shaken the last remnants of the night's terrors from your mind. Until you hear a tapping on your window's lattice. 
  
  You turn towards your window, your soul within your burning, yet you cannot see past its closed shutters. Scared, yet inquisitive, you decide to approach it. For what if it is a visitor who, having tried knocking on your door, tries to seek your attention in other ways? Maybe they're throwing small stones against your window?
  
  Once you reach your window, your hand on the shutters' latch, you feel the cold, winter's air blowing through it. Shivering, you briefly wait, but decide to open the shutters. A flurry of feathers blows past you, too fast to focus on, startling you, and making you jump backwards. 
  
  CAW CAW CAW 
  
  A raven, a beast as black as the darkest night, flies around your library and perches itself above your chamber door. On the pallid bust of Pallas high above your chamber door. How long you've stood watching it in bewilderment, you do not know, but once you've gathered your senses, you burst out into laughter.
  
  'You my dear, sweet raven, surely art no craven. Tell me fearless raven, flying through this winter's snowy night, tell me why you bless me with this wondrous new sight?'
  
  'Nevermore.'
  
  From the its elevated perch a voice rung out, clear as water, yet creaking like ice. The raven, that enigmatic being, spoke as if answering your query. 
  
  'Can you understand me, are you answering, am I right? Tell me what your name is on the dark shore of this night?'
  
  'Nevermore.'
  
  Again, that singular word. Gazing into the eyes of that bird, you feel slightly unsettled. Slowly, a soft tingling starts to spread over your spine, as if the shadows of the library, surrounding you, are watching, closing in on you. You try to shake the thought. Focusing your attention back on the raven, you notice that he is still sitting completely still. Not a feather has rustled since you last addressed him. 
  
  'Tell me, oh saintly raven, of the region whence you came. Tell me of your master, who gifted such a singular name. How did you ever learn this, did you witness great a pain? Tell me of the grief which shall hold no more name.'
  
  'Nevermore.' 
  
  An illogical annoyance bubbles up within your soul. You start to feel like this bird, this beast has been sent here with the sole intention of mocking you. With a slightly raised voice, you address him for one last time: 'Curious demon, mocking tormentor, tell me why you came. Tell me why you carry such a strange and ominous name. Were you sent here by the heavens, or does the devil play a game? Are you here to mock me, or is my own, sad mind to blame?'
  > 'Nevermore.'
  Annoyance turns into anger as that beast mocks you once more. Grunting, you mutter to yourself: 'Other friends have flown before, on the morrow he will leave me as my hopes have flown before. On the morrow, all will be as was before.'
  
  'Nevermore.'
  
  Angry, yet curious, you gaze once more at that singular bird, perched on the pallid bust of Pallas high above your chamber door. Yet, as your gaze meets his, you feel a dark pit of sadness and despair open up, deep within your heart. With a voice filled with grief and wrath, you address the raven once more: 'Beast or devil, work of evil! Vile demon you might be! Tell me if you know of one no longer here with me. Tell me if the saints and angels have the one that I adore. Tell me of the one I lost, my radiant Lenore.'
  
  'Nevermore.'
  
  Lenore, the name haunts you still, even after so many, many months. Briefly, you break free of the raven's gaze, as you look once more upon her portrait, hanging on one of your library's walls. From within her wooden frame, Lenore looks at you with sad eyes, a kind smile upon her lips, filling you with longing. 
  
  'Nevermore.'
  
  The raven once more utters that singular word with his creaking, icy voice, mocking your loss, your despair. Icy tendrils grasp at the corners of your mind, and a deep fear makes its way into your heart. You once more turn your eyes towards the placid bust of Pallas high above your chamber door. There, your tormentor, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting. 
  
  Staring into the unblinking eyes of that shadowy prophet, you feel the last of your courage leaving your body. The shining image of Lenore slowly fading from your mind. Suddenly, in the blackness of the raven's eyes, you see the shimmer of a reflection, of the maiden you adore. Yet now, instead of love, instead of longing, it fills you with an overwhelming feeling of... 
  > sadness.
  '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 once more, mocking you, laughing at your misery. That grim and beastly devil sitting above your chamber door. Behind you, you hear the final hiss of the embers in your hearth. 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. The shadow of death, mocking your loss, and your powerlessness to overcome it. 
  
  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.