The Ghost of My Lost Lenore It was a bitter and gloomy midnight, as I was thinking of the death of my lost Lenore. As I was nearly dozing off, I heard a beating on my mansion door. Then, vibrantly remembered that it was the bleakest time in December. Greatly, I mourned the loss of my love, Lenore. I sought for the morrow, which had never come so slowly. As the chandelier swayed side to side, my fear drew stronger. I began to speak to myself. I spoke, “Someone is knocking on my door! Who is it and why?” I knew I had to be brave and have courage, so I stood up and walked down the three flights of stairs. Very lonely in a huge house with the lights dimmed, I apologized for taking my time. As my hand slowly went to the door and opened it, not
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I went back into the mansion again, and heard the knocking, but only louder this time. Then, I knew it had to be the window lattice. As I put my fear behind me, I sought for what was making the banging noise. Keeping calm, I spoke to myself over and over again. Still, I wasn’t calmed. “‘Tis the wind and nothing more, ‘Tis the wind and nothing more, ‘Tis the wind and nothing more…” Opening the window slowly, in flew a bald eagle. He perched there and stared at me for the longest of time, it could have been minutes, hours, I lost track of time. With the strange appearance of the eagle, it made me chuckle a bit. I decided to speak to it. “You,” I said, “are no coward. Scared old bird wandering along the cliff’s edge at night, tell me your name from the lower word of the dead.” “Nevermore,” said the bird, Bob. I was amazed that this unsightly bird could carry on a conversation, although what it said made little sense; everyone has to agree that no person had ever seen a bird sitting upon one’s door-- any animal at all, sitting above a sculpture over the door and with such a weird name. But this bird, sitting by itself on the peaceful sculpture, spoke only that one word and with great zeal. That’s all it spoke as it sat perfectly
I went back into the mansion again, and heard the knocking, but only louder this time. Then, I knew it had to be the window lattice. As I put my fear behind me, I sought for what was making the banging noise. Keeping calm, I spoke to myself over and over again. Still, I wasn’t calmed. “‘Tis the wind and nothing more, ‘Tis the wind and nothing more, ‘Tis the wind and nothing more…” Opening the window slowly, in flew a bald eagle. He perched there and stared at me for the longest of time, it could have been minutes, hours, I lost track of time. With the strange appearance of the eagle, it made me chuckle a bit. I decided to speak to it. “You,” I said, “are no coward. Scared old bird wandering along the cliff’s edge at night, tell me your name from the lower word of the dead.” “Nevermore,” said the bird, Bob. I was amazed that this unsightly bird could carry on a conversation, although what it said made little sense; everyone has to agree that no person had ever seen a bird sitting upon one’s door-- any animal at all, sitting above a sculpture over the door and with such a weird name. But this bird, sitting by itself on the peaceful sculpture, spoke only that one word and with great zeal. That’s all it spoke as it sat perfectly