This is a continuation of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven", published in 1845. In this short story I have composed, you shall see how I view "The Raven" and how I believe it could have ended.

Nothing could ever clear my mind of the utter, stark horror that I had experienced the night that Lenore had died. Her eyes were blank, the whisper of death still on her lips. We had been arguing and in a rage, I had pushed her. She toppled backwards, down a flight of stairs to her death. I climbed down to the bottom of the steps after several long minutes of wait. Upon reaching her, my breath caught in my throat as I gazed down upon her mangled, body. Torn and broken, I dropped to my knees by her body. Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, clutching her body to my breast, I felt the heat already escaping her body and the smell of death in the air. Never before had I cried in all of my manhood, but tears now cascaded from my eyes onto her silken dress, sliding to the cold, stone floor that felt like it was dragging me downwards to the earth, holding me, keeping me from my dearest Lenore. I threw my head back and cried out, “My Lenore! My lost, sweet Lenore! Forgive me!” I had slain the one woman who I had loved the most, and I felt as if the world beneath my feet was slowly giving way.

It was a few weeks later, that I now found myself atop a cliff. As I gazed down from this horrid perch, I could see the world before me, my world. It looked repulsive and bleak without her… I could no longer stare out into the distance as I felt an icy sickness in the pit of my stomach. “Goodbye” I slowly whispered as I stepped to the edge of the cliff, feeling the harsh wind tearing at my very soul. I stopped, suddenly. Feeling a presence about me, I turned slowly to see a rather large black bird. I felt its harsh, cold black glare boring into my features. “Nevermore” it cawed, sending chills down my spine.

“Be gone!” I cursed aloud, portraying as much rage as possible in my words. “Be gone, you beast! Have you not caused me enough pain? Enough suffering?” I asked, my tone harsh. It simply stared back at me, and I felt hatred welling up into my breast and knew that to take my own life would surely give it satisfaction. No, I would not allow that! Cursed, I may be, but this wretched beast would not prevail over my soul! I took a threatening step forward, but it did not move nor flinch in the slightest. I cursed in my mind, somewhat startled by its audacity. I scowled. Curse this horrid creature. I began stomping, flailing my arms in the air wild like a mad man. I raved, yelling at the bird. “Rid yourself of me this instant! This instant!” I shouted repeatedly. It did not move.

I stopped suddenly, my arms dropping to my sides. “What is it you want from me? My confession? Is that what it takes?” The creature blinked and did nothing more. “Fine!” I howled. “I did it! I killed Lenore!” I began to sob. “I confess! … I confess….” My voice trailed off as I dropped to my knees and cupped my hands over my face, sobbing like a child. “I was intoxicated, and she has come home so late in the dead of night… Oh my poor Lenore, please, I beg of you, forgive me!” I cried out, throwing my arms to the sky.

Suddenly, in a flurry of black feathers and talons, the raven had launched itself at me. I toppled backwards and rolled off the cliff. Quickly scrambling to cling to the rock, I had just barely latched my fingers around a large stone. Its sharp edges gouged into my fingers, and slowly a trickle of blood began seeping from my fingers, down through the rocks. “Help me!” I howled, “Help me, please!” I repeated loud, exhaustion and desperation in my voice. “Oh my sweet Lenore, save me!” As a response, I heard footsteps. No, it was the sound of claws rapping on rocks. Within what felt like hours, which was probably only seconds, the large black raven loomed above me, perched just before my fingers. My throat went dry and all I could manage to utter was a shallow gasp. “Nevermore,” it hissed. My eyes widened and I felt the blood drain from my face. “Nevermore,” it cawed again hauntingly. To my horror, it lunged its razor-sharp beak down, tearing at my fingers, rapidly diminishing my faltering grip. Quickly, I lost my hold and began to plummet. The last thing I witnessed was the beast’s beady black eyes watching me in a jumble of abhorrence and sorrow.