THE RAVEN-POV

It was truly a bleak night. The storm was becoming too unbearable even for me to tolerate. Feathers soaked from all the heavy rain, I beat my wings as fast as I could until I found any sign of shelter. As I was running out of time, I spotted a mansion below me. It was big, roomy, and quite possibly it had some nooks or crannies for me to rest. I’m smarter than the average raven; I understand human speech and I even know one word of human language, a word that I had taken a liking to for some odd reason. Nevermore.

I saw a light through the window, so I knew someone must’ve been home.  Lightning cracked across the sky and I figured this was my only chance to avoid the worst of the storm. As painful as it was, I hit myself against the door, asking for an invitation to enter. After a little bit of time, it opened and my interest piqued as a grievous human male opened it. I was only interested since he kept talking to the darkness and then to me once he saw me. Without hesitation, I flew into his regal home and perched on a feminine bust. Hey, I may know a human word, but that doesn’t mean I know human art or culture.

The human male creeped me out. He kept talking to me. Normally, humans would ignore me or try to chase me away (but I usually end up flying to some corner of the house where I know they wouldn’t find me). However, this human was staring at me and trying to communicate with me. This was getting really weird. I wasn’t asking for much. I needed a place to stay for the night until I could get back on my feet. Nothing more.

Anyway, when I finally realized that he was talking and when I also realized I said, “Nevermore,” he asked me if I was leaving. Of course, I was going to leave, not right away, but I was. I wanted to tell him, “Yes, I will be, but only if this blasted storm ends soon.” Unfortunately for the both of us, I said, “Nevermore.” Great. He kept going off on that.

Then this human asked me in his weirdly poetic speech about if he would forget this “Lenore,” whoever she was. I was trying so hard to tell him that I knew nothing of Lenore, but of course, the only word I said was “Nevermore.” I really pitied this male until he decided to yell and get mad at me. It’s not like I had anything to do with Lenore. He begged me for any knowledge of “balm in Gilead.” I didn’t know if it had any deeper meaning since I didn’t understand whether or not it was a reference. I responded with my one-word phrase, hoping that by some miracle it translated as “I don’t understand the reference. Please restate the question.”

VOICE DRAFT TWO

It’s 9 am on a Saturday in a small, modern apartment in a big city. My voice wakes up on their stomach and gasps a little for air since they normally forget how uncomfortable the position is for them. They think about the night before and all the funny moments with friends; now they’re grateful that they can finally have a day to relax instead of run all over the place with a group. My voice after such a long time, because any morning requires that much time, rolls out of bed and struggles to properly cook in the kitchen. They messily prepare a plate of eggs and biscuits from the Pillsbury Dough Boy brand. My voice laughs mockingly and makes a snarky quip about the meal and eats it anyway.  After breakfast, they throw covers over the bed, not even trying to make it look neat. My voice is okay with the messiness in their apartment and only cleans up when expecting company since appearances are important. They throw on a dark t-shirt and some faded, worn blue jeans. They laugh as they see just how messy their hair is in the mirror and makes a silly face to match it. They are a very surreal character since they can be not only comical but also melancholic. On the outside, they can be very sarcastic and they are the kind of person to silently add input in someone else’s conversation and accidentally end up saying it out loud, making it awkward for them and the other people. But deep down, they can be very serious, especially about troublesome memories. As morning shifts into midday, they sprawl out on the couch and read a mystery novel. My voice loves mystery novels because they offer some hope that everything can have some logical explanation. Their mind temporarily drifts to a recent terrible incident with questions left unanswered, but they try to push away the memory and focus on the book. Lunch is a pleasant meal of leftover Chinese takeout from the day before. My voice drifts back into a fantastical daze. Almost immediately they snap out of it when thoughts of the tragedy intruded their mind. They make a mental reminder that just because not all the facts are present right now, it doesn’t mean they should obsess over it. Often close friends accuse them of being heartless or strange but in reality, my voice is more of a matter-of-fact person with the occasional dash of humor to lighten it. Nonetheless, they’re straight-to-the-point. The day passes along smoothly into evening into dusk and my voice throws on a soft shirt and sweatpants. They lie on the couch captivated by the novel and eventually fell asleep with the book on their chest.

The Raven

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178713

I chose this story because it is really interesting how it only took his own imagination to drive the narrator insane. I liked the dark style of writing and the suspense.

I will be telling this story from the perspective of the raven, itself. This point of view will offer the readers the raven's reasons for continuously responding with the infamous words, "Nevermore."