'The Dream': an adaption of 'The Raven' by Edgar Allen Poe
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Thu, 04/26/2012 - 11:53
OOC: Original poem:The Raven
Written by: Edgar Allen Poe
Adapted by: Jason Shawn Alexander
Adaption appeard in; Mouseguard: Legends of the Guard
Adaption of Adaption by: Yours Truly
This is a reaccuring nightmare DoraRose has. If you don't handle dark or depressing things very well, you might not want to read this. The cover of 'Legends of the Guard' says that everything in the book was alright for all ages, but I thought it might be a good idea to warn everybody. This will give you an idea of why my character acts the way she doese.
And if you think this is dark, you should read some of my original poetry ;).
BIC: Entitled,
THE DREAM..., or A TALE, A STORY, A LEGEND...
DORAROSE lay in her bed, thinking of her life before she became a wanderer. Slowly, gently, did sleep sneak over the mouse warrior. And how quickly do our dreams overtake us...
THE DREAM...
DoraRose was sitting at a desk, dosing. Was that a knock? She started, looking around the room.
"'Tis some visitor. Only this and nothing more."
She was about to leave her chair when she saw the doll. It was a mouse, a brown one, with a green dress and purple buttons for eyes. The real mouse picked it up, as if it were made of glass.
"LilyMoore."
Again, a knock came at the door. The mouse layed the doll down with care and hurried to the door.
"Sir or madame, forgive me. I was napping, and so faintly you came tapping, I scarce was sure I heard you."
The mouse opened the door, but was only met with the night.
"Mother? LilyMoore?"
Behind her, at the window, there came the knock again. Closing the door, the warrior hurried across the room.
"'Tis surely the wind and nothing more!"
Opening the window, she was met with a feirce storm. What was tapping? Was it the wind with a branch? No! A black bird, the colour of soot, hopped of the window ledge. The mouse took a step back. The bird was bigger than she.
"Ghastly grim and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore, tell me what you lordly name is on the night's plutonian shore."
"Nevermore."
DoraRose paused, looking at the raven. Then she shrugged, turning to walk back to the desk.
"Well, other friends have flown before. On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
"Nevermore."
Pauseing, the warrior turned, and stood in the middle of the room, stareing at the raven.
"Doubtless what you utter is your only stock and store, taught to you by some unhappy master. But why 'nevermore'?"
She followed the ravens' gaze as it rested on the doll.
"Wretch, thy master sent thee. Give me solice from the pain of the memories of my darling LilyMoore."
"Nevermore."
DoraRose faced the raven head on, her warrior spirit rising.
"Prophet! Thing of evil! On this home by horror haunted, tell me truly, I implore: is there healing in this life, tell me true, I do implore!"
"Nevermore."
Her heart breaking, she tried to get a different answer, a lone tear coursing down her cheek.
"Prophet still! Bird of evil! By the heaven that bends above us -- by the death that sits at my enemies' door -- tell this soul with sorrow laden, that I shall again play with my baby sister, the flower named LilyMoore!"
"Nevermore."
The warrior mouse took a step back, clutching her chest. Her face suddenly hardened as she glared hatred at the raven.
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!"
A second tear fell from her eye as her anger and pain burst forth. She pointed at the bird.
"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!"
A fork of lightning flashed as the storm outside strengthened. More tears flooded out of the warriors' eyes.
"Leave my loneliness unbroken! TAKE THY BEAK FROM OUT MY HEART AND TAKE THY FORM FROM OFF MY DOOR!"
She slumped to her knees, sobbing. The raven whatched her, no emotion showing on its' face.
"Nevermore."
AWAKE!
With a jump DoraRose awoke from her dream. Looking out the window, she saw a cloudless dawn.
Slipping out of bed, she grabbed her haversack. Opening it, she took out the doll. It was made out of brown cloth and was wearing a green dress. It was LilyMoores'.
In the twilight she gazed again on the brown stain darkening the edge of the dress.
LilyMoores' blood. DoraRose was still searching for the spineless murderer.
Murderer!
The Mouse groaned as the truth hit her once again: her sister, LilyMoore...
...she is nevermore.
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