The Raven’s Lament
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 named Lenore
-The Raven :: Edgar Allan Poe
Prologue: Sorrow for the Lost Lenore
For some reason, there is a nostalgic feeling every time Lenore stares up at the heavens as the rain spirals down from the ironbound sky, with the downpour smashing mercilessly against her upturned face. Sometimes tears mingled with the rainwater, though Lenore wasn’t always conscious of this. It seemed as though there was something that needed to be remembered, and then nostalgia would eventually turn into heartache, leaving Lenore numbed not from the rain, but from her heart losing all sensation.
She wondered if it was possible to lose her heart. Lenore knew she could feel it beating beneath her chest, feel the lulls of blood rushing through her body, though there seemed to be a disturbing sense of emptiness, even when her heart continued beating. There were people whose hearts continued beating yet their souls stopped living. Lenore wondered when she would begin to spiral in that breathless plunge into the abyss, like how Dante hurtled through all nine circles of Hell.
As always, Lenore stared up at the heavens, the rain numbing her face with its chilling cold. Looking up towards the rain seemed to be a cathartic gesture, cleansing her tears and numbing all her fears and sadness and loneliness. She remembered that she wished to the stormy heavens that someone, anyone, would come to her, to help ease this sense of never belonging, always remaining invisible and ignored. Eventually, the rain became a blessing rather than a curse when she saw a man walking through the rain.
The man bore no umbrella, and even though the rain outlined his form, he seemed to be untouched by them. His features were otherworldly, with a halo of long blond hair and infinite blue eyes. The expression he currently bore veiled any sense of emotion, and Lenore could only stare in awe at the figure before her. It wasn’t his handsome features that struck her, but rather the faint glimpse of light that formed the shape of wings through the silvery veil of rain. A staccato flash of lightning only emphasized the light illuminating the faint outlines.
Lenore almost said that she wasn’t worthy, about to fall down to her knees in front of this otherworldly creature. Yet Lenore didn’t say or do any of those things, and said instead, “Are you an angel?”
It seemed as though the man stared at her for the first time. His eyes flickered for a few moments, though he quickly re-composed himself. After a few moments passed, Lenore thought that he wouldn’t say anything after all, though the angel eventually spoke.
“You’re an unusual girl if you can see my wings. What’s your name, child?”
His voice was detached, though his eyes were intently focused upon her. Lenore almost felt uncomfortable with his gaze searing through her, though she said, “My name is Lenore. What’s your name?”
Stolen novel; please report.
The angel seemed to stare through her, and his eyes gained a far-off look. “Ah, my name. It’s a wretched name I’ve tainted. My name is not worthy to someone as pure as you.”
“Tainted?” Lenore asked wonderingly, staring at the faint glimmer of wings that never completely vanished in the glittering rain.
“Yes, child. I can no longer be called an angel. I am tainted.”
Lenore lowered her head and she peered at the fallen angel underneath her lashes.
“I made a wish to the heavens that someone would come to me. I’m glad that I met you. I don’t feel lonely anymore.”
This seemed to elicit a smile from the angel, whose lips curved upward by the slightest fraction. He stepped closer, seemingly floating above the ground where great expanding ripples formed in puddles, before resting a hand against Lenore’s cheek. Despite the cold and numbness that originally afflicted Lenore, she could feel a semblance of warmth, a spark of vitality she hadn’t felt in a long time. She immediately felt a calming wave wash over her body, and Lenore wondered whether the angel’s simple touch did this, or whether the angel performed cleansing white magic upon her. She enjoyed his touch, and when the angel was about to lift his hand away, Lenore clasped his wrist in her hands, making his hand cradle her cheek.
“You saved me today,” Lenore said, staring up at the angel with a soft expression on her features. “Thank you. I don’t think that you’re impure--so don’t be sad. Angels shouldn’t be sad.”
The angel simply rested his hand against her cheek as Lenore settled the side of her face into his palm, closing her eyes. As she suspected, the angel remained untouched by the rain, and his hand was dry, warm and smooth against her skin.
“No,” the angel agreed. “Angels shouldn’t be sad. I have begun to tire of my foolishness. Lenore, thank you. You’ve taught me much today.”
He finally lifted his hand away from her face, and there was a ghost of a smile flickering across his once impassive features. The angel then turned, back toward her, with his wings brilliant as ever in the illusionary veil of rein. It was almost as though he himself were a hallucinatory mirage, and Lenore called out to him in a daze, to assure herself that he was real. “Wait! You never told me your name.”
The angel paused, then turned back to look at her. His stone-cold features seemed to soften slightly toward her. It seemed as though the unrelenting torrents of rain grew stronger, and Lenore could barely hear his voice carry through the storm.
“My name is ―“ the angel said, his voice carrying through the space between them. It was almost as though a vacuum materialized there, and no sound existed, not even the sound of rain or the distant rumbles of thunder pealing in the distance. She saw his lips move, form the shape of a name, yet Lenore couldn’t tell what letters or sounds were formed.
The downpour strengthened, momentarily blinding Lenore. When she opened her eyes once more, the angel disappeared. Lenore then stared at the heavens once more, though there was a hint of a smile upon her lips. It almost felt foreign, smiling, though the sensation of the rain drenching her and the cerebral, deafening sound of thunder left her breathless and awe-inspired. She made a wish to the heavens, and the heavens have cast an angel down to earth for her.
“You’re not impure,” Lenore whispered to the rain, casting her words through the storm and chill in hopes that the angel would hear them, wherever he may be. “If I can see you again, just once, then I will be happy.”
Once these words were spoken, just as the sound of rain became deafening so that nothing else could be heard, Lenore then walked from the downpour to seek shelter