Post by Vara on Jan 13, 2008 3:23:41 GMT -5
This is perhaps the only piece of fictional writing that I've been serious about and have finished. Probably because it was an assignment for an English class. It's based on the poem 'The Raven', by Edgar Allan Poe. If you haven't heard or read the poem, this story may not make much sense to you. The Raven is a beautiful piece of writing.
I do realise that it needs to be fleshed out majorly. I had a lot of trouble keeping the word limit and if I had been able to, it would've been much more detailed. But now, I've lost the inspiration for this short story. I thought I'd share it with you guys anyway. Any critiques or reviews are warmly welcome. Tell me what you think.
Btw, flashbacks are indicated in italicized writing.
William Dashwood Sussex III sighed, his chest falling heavily as he exhaled. He had thought of that day many times before. That was the day that he had decided to finally do something about the way he felt about Lenore. For so many months, William hadn’t even spoken to Lenore, but he could stand it no longer and finally plucked up the courage to introduce himself. Looking around the study of his large family mansion, William regretted speaking to Lenore. Maybe if he hadn’t have made a move she would still be here.
Shaking the woeful thought away, William stared into the fireplace, his thoughts filled with the memory of Lenore.
Knock. Knock. William jumped, startled out of his daydream by the sound of tapping. “Come in,” he called out. In stepped Elle Winchester, Lenore’s once-best friend.
“Your maid let me in,” Elle said darkly. Before Lenore’s death, Elle had taken pride in her appearance; she was always perfectly made up and her raven black hair was always pinned precisely against the nape of her neck. Her clothes were extravagant, all clean and pressed perfectly. Now, weeks after that eventful night, she wore no make up, her hair was a dishevelled mess and her clothes were stained.
“What are you doing here?” William snarled maliciously at the unwanted woman standing in his home. The appearance of Elle Winchester was like stabbing reminders in his chest.
“I miss her.” Elle whispered, her teary gaze falling to the luxurious Persian rug. Her voice was low, haunting. As if she wasn't really there, as if William was actually hearing the echo of a voice. “I miss Lenore so much, and I can’t stop thinking about that night. Do you remember what happened?”
William shut his eyes and swallowed thickly. Giving a slight nod to Elle, he drew on the memories of that haunting night.
“I dreamt about her,” Elle said, her voice low and cold. “Every night I dream about her.” Elle’s dark eyes stared at William, sending cold shivers down his spine. It reminded him of the terrors that he had felt on that fateful night. “And I dream about what happened. Do you, William?”
He ignored her question. Elle had been so angry at William, and he did not know why. He sincerely could not remember what exactly happened that night. He remembered the sound of a gunshot, the sounds of screaming and the looks of horror. William’s heart died that night; he could remember being pushed aside as students rushed into the room and tried to shake Lenore awake.
“What do you want, Ms Winchester?” William demanded. “What are you doing here?”
“Just what I asked you.” Elle’s eyes brightened, like two black jewels shining from the light given off by the fireplace, and her lips hinted at an eerie smile. “Do you dream about her? Do you see her in your mind?” Her voice was so cold and dark that William felt scared. Her words held a hint of mockery in them; she spoke as if he deserved to be ridiculed in such away that frightened him.
“Yes,” William tore his eyes from Elle’s gaze and stared into the fire roaring in its place. “Yes, I dream about her, just as you do. And I dream of that night, too.”
Frowning at Elle, William could not remember Lenore’s response. It was disturbing, William clearly remembered the early evening, but his memory blurred as he struggled to remember Lenore’s reply. It was as if he were trying to recall a dream, the details always beyond his grasp.
“That’s as close as we’re going to get, you know.” Elle sighed, staring into the fireplace blankly, the golden embers reflecting in her dark eyes. “We’ll never get to see or talk to her ever again.”
“Elle, I’ll ask you once more, why are you here?” William pleaded grimly. The memories that kept flashing in his mind tormented him. Anger, grief and guilt attacked his heart as he struggled to comprehend the fact that Elle was right. He would never see Lenore ever again. He would never hear her voice, hear her delicate laughter or see her rushing down a Yale corridor when she was late for her next class. His eyes filled with tears as the memory of Lenore’s death filled him.
“I am here, William, because it’s your fault that I’ll never see her again!” Elle shrieked. Her pale cheeks flushed pink in anger as she moved towards him. Her dark hair blew around her face as she seemingly flew at him, like a bird ready to attack. “It’s all your fault!” Tears ran down her face as she advanced on him, her hands forming into fists.
William frowned. “What are you talking about?” His words were formed slowly, as if his lips were pushing for something that his mind was only beginning to realise.
“What do you mean ‘what am I talking about’?” Elle screeched. “I’m talking about Lenore! I’m talking about you and you’re disgusting obsession! I’m talking about what you did to her!”
William could no longer remember specific words or movements. Lenore’s reply to his proposal was lost in the depths of his mind. All he could remember was placing his hand into the top drawer of the desk that occupied the small sitting room, and feeling an oddly shaped object of cold steel.
Then he remembered feeling a strong flash of anger. His eyes filled with tears, blurring the scene before him and then he heard a loud gunshot. He saw a sharp flare of light and felt a burst of heat in his hands where the steel was once cold and heavy.
I do realise that it needs to be fleshed out majorly. I had a lot of trouble keeping the word limit and if I had been able to, it would've been much more detailed. But now, I've lost the inspiration for this short story. I thought I'd share it with you guys anyway. Any critiques or reviews are warmly welcome. Tell me what you think.
Btw, flashbacks are indicated in italicized writing.
End of Obsession
“Oh, come on, Nora! He likes you.” Lenore Bennett’s best friend, Elle Winchester, laughed at her friend’s reaction.
Lenore shook her head. “No, he doesn’t. And even if he did, he’s not my type. Elle, I don’t even know his name.”
The man that the two women were talking about sat alone in the small Yale common room as he stole glances at the beautiful Lenore. For almost a year, he had watched her. He could remember every single moment he had seen of her during class lectures: the way she tucked a strand of golden blonde hair behind her ear, the way she swept the room with her sky blue eyes as she searched for a free chair and never even once looking at him. He had watched her every move, and he loved every moment.
* * *
William Dashwood Sussex III sighed, his chest falling heavily as he exhaled. He had thought of that day many times before. That was the day that he had decided to finally do something about the way he felt about Lenore. For so many months, William hadn’t even spoken to Lenore, but he could stand it no longer and finally plucked up the courage to introduce himself. Looking around the study of his large family mansion, William regretted speaking to Lenore. Maybe if he hadn’t have made a move she would still be here.
Shaking the woeful thought away, William stared into the fireplace, his thoughts filled with the memory of Lenore.
* * *
“I’m William Sussex.” he said, trying to smile. Lenore stared at him.
“Hi.” Lenore smiled awkwardly. “I’m Lenore Bennett.” For a long moment, the air held only silence and tension.
“Uh, I was wondering if …” William took in a deep breath and began again. “I was thinking, well…if you had any plans tonight?”
“Oh.” Lenore’s eyes widened suddenly. “Yes, I do actually. I’m sorry. I have to go now.” Lenore almost ran from the lecture room.
A flash of anger rose within William as he watched his beloved Lenore walk away. His ears and cheeks flushed a deep pink as he left the lecture room.
* * *
Knock. Knock. William jumped, startled out of his daydream by the sound of tapping. “Come in,” he called out. In stepped Elle Winchester, Lenore’s once-best friend.
“Your maid let me in,” Elle said darkly. Before Lenore’s death, Elle had taken pride in her appearance; she was always perfectly made up and her raven black hair was always pinned precisely against the nape of her neck. Her clothes were extravagant, all clean and pressed perfectly. Now, weeks after that eventful night, she wore no make up, her hair was a dishevelled mess and her clothes were stained.
“What are you doing here?” William snarled maliciously at the unwanted woman standing in his home. The appearance of Elle Winchester was like stabbing reminders in his chest.
“I miss her.” Elle whispered, her teary gaze falling to the luxurious Persian rug. Her voice was low, haunting. As if she wasn't really there, as if William was actually hearing the echo of a voice. “I miss Lenore so much, and I can’t stop thinking about that night. Do you remember what happened?”
William shut his eyes and swallowed thickly. Giving a slight nod to Elle, he drew on the memories of that haunting night.
* * *
“Will!” A young man greeted him joyfully. The fellow Yale student was hosting an end-of-year celebration; a gathering that was held on that memorable night. “Thrilled you could make it.”
For half an hour, William kept his eyes glued to the door, searching for Lenore. He needed to see her tonight, for tonight would be the night he would be proposing to her. As every minute past, William became more anxious. His nerves were soothed only by the fact that he knew it would be a wonderful night. He had loved her for so long, and he knew they were meant to be together.
Finally, Lenore walked in, laughing with Elle as they were greeted by the host. William’s heart beat faster as he held his breath. She was stunning. Her wonderful golden hair let loose on her shoulders, waves of liquid amber brushing against her skin. Wrapped around her body was a beautiful crimson gown. Only later would William realise why the memory of such a vivid red would haunt him so eerily
* * *
“I dreamt about her,” Elle said, her voice low and cold. “Every night I dream about her.” Elle’s dark eyes stared at William, sending cold shivers down his spine. It reminded him of the terrors that he had felt on that fateful night. “And I dream about what happened. Do you, William?”
He ignored her question. Elle had been so angry at William, and he did not know why. He sincerely could not remember what exactly happened that night. He remembered the sound of a gunshot, the sounds of screaming and the looks of horror. William’s heart died that night; he could remember being pushed aside as students rushed into the room and tried to shake Lenore awake.
“What do you want, Ms Winchester?” William demanded. “What are you doing here?”
“Just what I asked you.” Elle’s eyes brightened, like two black jewels shining from the light given off by the fireplace, and her lips hinted at an eerie smile. “Do you dream about her? Do you see her in your mind?” Her voice was so cold and dark that William felt scared. Her words held a hint of mockery in them; she spoke as if he deserved to be ridiculed in such away that frightened him.
“Yes,” William tore his eyes from Elle’s gaze and stared into the fire roaring in its place. “Yes, I dream about her, just as you do. And I dream of that night, too.”
* * *
“William.” A look of surprise flashed in Lenore’s eyes, which was quickly covered by a pretty smile. “Hello. I’m surprised to see you here; I’ve never seen you at one of these events before.”
“Oh,” William mumbled, his courage fleeting from him as the eyes of many turned to him, “Actually, I was hoping to find you here. I need to speak to you in private.”
It was clear that Lenore desperately did not want to be alone with William, but she followed him out of the room politely.
“Is there something wrong?” Lenore queried. The two of them had moved into a small sitting room. William moved behind a desk and began fiddling with the drawers, attempting to calm his nerves.
“No, nothing’s wrong.” William opened the top drawer and began fiddling with the fountain pen left inside. “Lenore, I think I should be straight forward with you.”
A puzzled look crossed Lenore’s angelic features, her soft blue eyes sharpened in a curious and confused gaze. “I don’t understand.”
“Lenore, I love you.” William said bluntly, feeling the emotions pour from his heart like warm honey. “I’ve loved you for so long and I know that I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with you. Lenore Bennett, will you marry me?”
* * *
Frowning at Elle, William could not remember Lenore’s response. It was disturbing, William clearly remembered the early evening, but his memory blurred as he struggled to remember Lenore’s reply. It was as if he were trying to recall a dream, the details always beyond his grasp.
“That’s as close as we’re going to get, you know.” Elle sighed, staring into the fireplace blankly, the golden embers reflecting in her dark eyes. “We’ll never get to see or talk to her ever again.”
“Elle, I’ll ask you once more, why are you here?” William pleaded grimly. The memories that kept flashing in his mind tormented him. Anger, grief and guilt attacked his heart as he struggled to comprehend the fact that Elle was right. He would never see Lenore ever again. He would never hear her voice, hear her delicate laughter or see her rushing down a Yale corridor when she was late for her next class. His eyes filled with tears as the memory of Lenore’s death filled him.
“I am here, William, because it’s your fault that I’ll never see her again!” Elle shrieked. Her pale cheeks flushed pink in anger as she moved towards him. Her dark hair blew around her face as she seemingly flew at him, like a bird ready to attack. “It’s all your fault!” Tears ran down her face as she advanced on him, her hands forming into fists.
William frowned. “What are you talking about?” His words were formed slowly, as if his lips were pushing for something that his mind was only beginning to realise.
“What do you mean ‘what am I talking about’?” Elle screeched. “I’m talking about Lenore! I’m talking about you and you’re disgusting obsession! I’m talking about what you did to her!”
William could no longer remember specific words or movements. Lenore’s reply to his proposal was lost in the depths of his mind. All he could remember was placing his hand into the top drawer of the desk that occupied the small sitting room, and feeling an oddly shaped object of cold steel.
Then he remembered feeling a strong flash of anger. His eyes filled with tears, blurring the scene before him and then he heard a loud gunshot. He saw a sharp flare of light and felt a burst of heat in his hands where the steel was once cold and heavy.
