Quoth The Raven, "Nevermore"


Edgar Allan Poe
I remember when I was just a youngin, when my pelt wasn't as dark as tis now; a color as dark a pitch with that healthy sheen. which made it look like the heavens were shining down upon me. Now only if they would envelop me in their heavenlyness.

Living in the continent those two-leggers called Alaska, I've seen things others havent. The premises I lived on contained of a two-legger who had fur and was bothered with it. The weird thing about these two-leggers was that they could take their fur off! It just didn't make sense! It was perfectly shaved, shaved clean. But then this two-leggers had other creatures, somewhat looking like me, but I could understand them clear as day.

The two-legger vexed me; made Pysche, my soul, burn up in flames, and if not stopped, the two-leggers would let me vanish into the ashes and the realm of hell. The seraphims hated me, and I swear God was against me even though he had that burning feeling in his bosom, like me, that meant he loved me. Sometimes I wish I could see heaven, not hell, like most of those foolish, mortal, two-leggers I head to hearken. They gave awe towards me, I must of been a sight they enjoyed. But i felt like an encaged animal! I was! In those, traps, that had those rods of silver, a nice color indeed, one of my fellow canines had those color eyes. At the darkest of night, this canine's eyes were filled with audacity, even in the races we challenged in the cold. I remember her perfectly, her name was Lenore. Then she had two other sisters named Ulalume and Virginia. I loved them all, the burning sensation making Pysche warm whenever I was around them.

Our paws would be covered in booties, what the two-leggers called. Mine fit my paws perfectly, they were an color you would see almost no where here in the forest. It was a beautiful color, a color like the snow, tinted with the color in which the sky was tinted. They weren't comfortable at our pads, but they were pretty padded with the fur that felt like a rabbit's inside. So, when I escaped, I mocked them by taking these "booties", from what I heard, the most expensive, and ran away with them. they're still soft and fine in condition, I just don't know how to take them off.

Who Said The Raven Was Crazy?

The embers flowed down the rocky volcano Yaanek. They groaned and rolled, groaned and rolled, letting out those embers that wrought their apparation in the ashen and sober skies. That he loved to see when they weren't covered by the ghastly, Plutonian clouds. He was engulfed in fear; he never went through one of these tremors, and neither did the two-leggers, from what he saw. They screamed and rn for cover, while all I did was run away. As far as possible. The lave drew closer to me, but it already engulfed the people. The volcano was malevolance: it was intemperate.

It was like the lava had been possessed by the feind of all feinds, that loved to commit atrocity. The only brute survingin was me, a wolf of extrodinary sagacity, aversion, wretchedness, inscrutability: these all made me who I am. The somewhat wolf of a gantleman, but inside, crazy, miserable because of my loves' deaths. I was sly, sneaky, anomalous.

The Man Is.
I impel on, and surprisingly I found Blossom Forest. It's a perfect place to be me. No one will expect anything! I can fancy like a murderer, drinking the red chian wine from others bodices. He just loved it, though he wasn't a vampire or cannibal. He just wanted to experience the life of a criminal.

His mirth echoed, leaving cadences bouncing back at him of that word. He needed slumber, and this ice-crystal coated place definitely wouldn't bring it. The only tihng it would bring is wolves and memories. He saw the lava running down so many time whenever he blinked, so he tried to stop. On one blink he saw remains, and on a rock was inscribed desolation. That's how he was feeling. He pondered about a way to get rid of it. After a little time of inspecting his book of yore, he came up with something. Something that would require his fake side to become his real side. To talk and get someo9ne to help him. What he needed was another boy, well, man.

Poe/male/adult/none/none/none

Quoth The Raven, "Nevermore"