This is for Snoink's Alternative History Contest. We are supposed to write from the POV of an imp that helps a historical figure rise to greatness. Or something like that.
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Annabel Lee
“Roxford,” Edgar whispered in the dark. “Roxford, I need your help to write again.”
I was curled into Edgar’s thick, black hair. I shifted myself closer to his ear and whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t stop thinking…”
“Thinking about what?” I said.
“Her.”
A silence followed, and I frowned.
“What about her?”
“I have this idea in my mind. For a ballad. Or a poem; I don’t quite know yet, but I need to write this. Think of it as a memorial for her. Roxford, you have to help me. If I write this, I will feel much better about Virginia. I know she’s waiting for me in Heaven. You have to help me, my dear friend,” Edgar said, sitting himself in his chair. He took a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink and a pen from the table.
“What will you title it?” I asked him.
Edgar thought for a moment, and I could tell he was thinking deeply.
“Annabel Lee. I couldn’t name it Virginia’s name… too many painful memories. Annabel Lee will work just fine.”
My brain began whizzing at a frightening speed. I clicked my tongue on the roof of my mouth, and I concentrated.
“Write this,” I whispered.
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee.
“Yes!” Edgar whispered hotly. “You’ve done it again, my dear friend!”
“Keep writing.”
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
“How do you do this? How do you express my feelings in such a beautiful way?” Edgar asked, placing the pen down for a moment. “You’ve done it countless times before, but you’ve never fully explained this mystery to me. Roxford, please answer me this one question: How do you know my thoughts?”
“I’ve been sent to this Earth for one reason and one alone,” I said. “As an Imp, my job is to faithfully help one person who needs me. You, for instance, can’t write a sentence to save your life. But you have ideas—beautiful ideas—that need to be heard from seas to seas.”
“Thank you,” Edgar whispered, taking the pen in his hand again.
“Now, to answer your question: I’ve been granted the ability by my Maker to search your mind. It’s not as if I can read everyone’s thoughts, mind you. Just you, because I have been assigned to spread your words to every nation.
“Now, continue writing.”
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
“Tell me, Roxford,” Edgar said. “Why did she have to die?”
“Annabel Lee? Well, she caught a sickness and—”
“No, not Annabel Lee. Virginia. Why? She was so young… she wasn’t ready.”
“Oh,” I said, my voice falling. “These things happen to the best of people. Trials in people’s lives help them grow, or so I’ve been told.”
“Yes, but why her? Why did my Virginia—” He suddenly stopped and bit his lip. I could read his thoughts:
(i won’t cry i won’t cry no not now i’m over that time the GREAT DEPRESSION is over never to return oh god why her why my Virginia)
“Keep writing,” I commanded, my voice soothing his thoughts.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Points: 890
Reviews: 14
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