So here is your latest challenge... THE LAST WRITER STANDING!!!
Round One:
Your assignment, should you chose to accept it is to make up a story based on the following work.
You can be as creative as you want but the story that you write must tie to the poem below.
| QUOTE |
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 some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore--
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple 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."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door;--
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
'Tis the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door--
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door--
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door--
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered--not a feather then he fluttered--
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before--
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never--nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust, and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore--
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee,--by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite,--respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!--
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore--
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--nevermore!
|
This contest will end March 1st. At that point I will put up a vote on who's story was the best. The person with the least votes will be eliminated.
The others will continue on to compete in round TWO!
This contest will be ongoing, lasting a few months. This will not be the only contest during that time....
Good luck to all. Be as creative as you like! There really are very little rules. Just stick to the theme!
OOC: Here goes... I'm having trouble with this one though, it definitely won't be my best work... It's hard for me to base my work on things, as my inspiration comes from my own thoughts...
Well, hope I don't get kicked out, but I probably will anyway.
IC:
"Aye, my sir, another one," the officer in front of Roger said. Roger sighed, and stood from his chair, black and blood red in its frame and cushion. "Perhaps you'd enlighten me, officer. I don't suppose a dark black feather was found upon his door?" "Well, her door, sir, and yes, I believe there was," the officer replied. "Very well, I suppose I should have figured such phenomena would not stop as suddenly as they appeared." Quietly Roger paced the room, corner to corner, side to side. The room was gloomy, of that there was no doubt. Perhaps it was for the best, though. An investigator's room should not give him joy when there was darkness within the world that outnumbered him so greatly. "I shall get to it quickly," Roger said, stopping suddenly and staring at the portrait of a woman in white. "She was a fine woman, sir. She is missed by all," the officer said, noticing his stare. "Leave me, officer. A moment alone before I go is all I request. Is it so much?" Roger replied, not taking his gaze from the portrait. "Of course not, sir. My apologies..." The officer left, Roger hearing the door close behind him. Was he unwell? Perhaps. The loss of a woman you love is great, the loss of a woman you need is even greater. All he had now was her portrait, and it was unlikely he would ever get more.
"Since the second week of the most recent month, there have been at least seven suicides in this area alone..." Roger said, walking along the chalk outline of the body, talking more to himself than anybody. "You know... It leads me to wonder whether Alice really wasn't a suicide..." He continued. "Sir, Alice would have no reason to commit suicide. She had so much to live for, after all. She had you, she had all these people... She was a blessing, but I suppose all blessings must end eventually," an officer nearby said. "You said she died because the illness was too strong. But didn't you also say that there was a missing bottle of pills?" Roger asked, still staring at the outline, right by the pieces of shattered glass from the broken window above. "There was no level of the pills found in her system when the body was examined, sir. The signs of death were simply related to the illness she had... When the nurse had gone back into the room to check on her, the machine was flat-lining," the officer replied, wiping a small amount of sweat from his brow. Conversations about Alice's death with Roger were difficult. It had only been three days since the incident, but there had been a suicide on each day since, and Alice came up consistently. "Was it possible she deactivated the machine herself? After all, she may have simply lowered certain elements of the machine. Did the nurse run a check before turning the machine off and resetting all the settings?" Roger asked, once again turning his notepad over in his hands as he began to focus back on the scene at hand.
"Perhaps we should get back to work. If you want to check out the hospital again, you're at liberty to, but this is the most recent suicide. It's just like all the others. The man fell out of the window face first, hands by his head, flat. As if he had been holding his head," The officer continued turning away from Roger and nodding to several other officers nearby. "I suppose we can't do much here... We have nothing to go on other than what we had before. There's no signs of anything other than that god damned feather... It's definitely from a raven, but that's all we have to go on. The best lead we have is the idea that it may be a cultist movement," Roger stated, and began to head towards the red and white door that led to the building the man had fallen out of. Or, jumped out of, rather. The door opened, however, revealing an officer holding several pieces of paper. "We got this... It's not much, investigator, but it's something. Seems this man was in some maddening obsession with writing down everything around him. We found tons of papers in desks, drawers, envelopes, on notepads and on scraps of paper. We happened to find these right by the window, though, not organized into something like the rest.
Roger grabbed the papers, and began looking through them.
The night sky is dim, lit only by the minor light f rom the moon and stars. There aren't any peop le out today, too bad, no people... Poor people, not being out. But I'm not out either, how sad... I should go out, but th en the wind might blow it away... That would be even more sad than staying he re... Hey? What's that?
Oh whoops! It looks like that knocking was nothing. That's sad too, am I eager for comp any?
oh dear, I se em to be making big mistake s. I think that 's an issueIshouldfix. At le ast I'm spelling everything rightthough.
A bird? Oooo oooooOOOOO oooOOoOooO ooooooOOOO.....
Nevermore the bird says! Nev ermore! Evermore! Clevermore!
Shut up! Shut up du
mb bird! Making me sad!
I'm jumping now. I decided not to make any mistakes now. I'm being careful now, to make mistakes now would be sad, so sad.... The window looks big, but I am strong. Strongly sad.... sadly strong? Bye bye, birdie. Nevermore?
NEVERMORE
"What a mess...." Roger said, staring at the enormous spaces, random indents, {[(OOC: Unfortunately, when I enter the post, it fixes a few of the purposeful errors I made in the letter. I'm not sure how to stop that, so I have to leave some of it to your imagination, but at least some of them made it through)]} and strange obsession with being sad... But he had clues... The bird... A bird anyway...
Three Days Later
"So you're the mighty raven, huh? I guess he wasn't lying. I only have one question... Did you take Alice away from me? There's no point in hiding it, I wrote it all down. I wrote everything down, I wrote down what you are and what you do. They'll be ready, now, you damn bird. They won't open their door for you anymore... Nevermore, I suppose.... ANSWER ME!"
One Day Before Then
"We just don't have the evidence, Roger," The officer said. "What do you mean?!" Roger roared, waving his report in the air. "Well, you're bringing monsters and demons into this... We can't support that claim no matter what, Roger..." Roger scowled, and walked away. "Just tell them that there's a murderer knocking on people's doors and then forcing them to commit suicide from the window. Tell them not to answer their doors..." Roger said, and exited.
Two days wasn't much time, but a lot had happened. He had found one more letter, from a raving madman named Nella Ope. Or at least, Roger had thought he was a raving madman. He had written everything that happened to him, in a poem-like form. Everything the damned raven had done... The last word... Nevermore... It had been scrawled quickly, and with droplets of blood on it. Roger knew what happened there. Nella had tried to kill the bird, failed, and the bird's power took hold of him or her. The depression, that caused all those other victims to... To do its bidding. it had no motive, other than murderous intent. Nella had shattered the window, written the word that had cursed him or her to suicide, droplets of blood from the shattered glass landing on the paper, and jumped, as all the others had. But nobody would believe Roger Williams... Not with the evidence from a madman's writings... This... of course, depressed Roger, whether he knew it or not. What Roger did know, though, was that the raven would come for him too. But his report was written, his warning given, hopefully, the terror would end until the raven moved on...
One Day Later, Before the Raven
Roger heard a knocking on the door, and knew what was to come. He didn't hesitate. He answered the door. Nobody was there, as Roger expected. Roger turned around, and took a seat in front of his door. There sat the raven. "Nevermore" it said. "So you're the mighty raven, huh? I guess he wasn't lying. I only have one question... Did you take Alice away from me? There's no point in hiding it, I wrote it all down. I wrote everything down, I wrote down what you are and what you do. They'll be ready, now, you damn bird. They won't open their door for you anymore... Nevermore, I suppose.... ANSWER ME!" Roger roared, and stood from his seat. The madness already taking hold. Some of the victims had been mad even before the raven, but Roger was sure the bird helped to drive them even crazier. Roger took a gun from his desk and pointed it at the raven. "Nevermore." Roger loaded a single bullet into the gun, and then spun the chambers around. "How about a game of Russian Roulette? If I win, you stay away from here... And everyone else.... Forever," Roger said, and took aim once more at the raven.
'Click'
I won't fail.... He'll lose... but it doesn't matter. I'll finally be able to ask Alice what happened, if I lose.
Roger aimed the gun at his own head.
'Click'
It's back to you, you bastard.
Roger switched his aim to the bird.
'Click'
Will I get my answers so quickly? I'm not sure whether I'm not eager for it or not...
Roger put the gun back to his head.
'Click'
"End of the line... Bird. What do you think the chances are that it's in the sixth chamber? Huh? HUH?!"
'Click'
'Well...." Roger smiled, and began chuckling madly. He fell out of his chair, backwards, and into the window. For a second, he thought he was going to fall, but he didn't, the window shook and cracked a little, but not enough.
"Fair is fair, raven. But know this, my death shall bring me peace...
PEACE!!!!....
FOREVERMORE!"
'Bang'
OOC:
I know it's too long and nobody's going to read it so I'm probably going to get kicked out, but I'm proud of my work nonetheless. hell, I'll probably throw submissions into the next contests anyway, knowing that I won't actually be allowed to win. Well, any way the wind blows, i suppose.
If you DID read it, and DID enjoy it, I truly hope you vote for it. It would mean a lot to know there are people who appreciate even the lengthy posts. I know Monstersgame diminished my hopes for that.
I did in fact read your post, Strang, and I did in fact enjoy it. It was extremely well written, and your use of the poem is truly original. I was planning on joining this, but ... I simply have no inspiration. The Raven is a fantastic poem, but I can't seem to get any ideas for a short story on it. Looks like you'll take the cake this time.