Evelyn | Teen Ink

Evelyn

October 14, 2008
By Anonymous

I woke with a start, alone in my chamber. The silence in the black of the night was eerily undisturbed. Neither mouse, no cricket, nor rat could be heard through this silence. As I attempted to shake off the feeling that something was awry, I blankly stared at the ceiling, considering my soon-to-be wife, Justine, who was away with her parents at the time. I faintly caught a glimpse of a tree branch scratching past my window. Slightly stirred, I got up from my bed to gaze out at the night on my marble balcony. Outside, I could see the great oak on the mountain to the rear of my house stretching its branches all the way to my door. The oak was tapping at the window pane steadily. “Thump... thump... thump...” About two seconds between each. With a touch of nervousness I turned about face, stepped inside, and shut and locked the balcony door. I went back to my high-mattress bed with the covers undone and slowly slipped back into the land where sleep is rest.

******************************************************************************


A dream, neigh! A nightmare; I was clutched in the icy hands of my dearly departed love, Evelyn, while pleading for forgiveness and longing for warmth. I thought I’d freeze and burn until I perished. But, for a second time, I awoke! The room was a frozen mortuary. And no wonder: the balcony door was open a bit. Reluctantly, I got out of bed and shut and re-locked the door.
Re-locked?
Had I not securely fastened the lock only hours ago? Perhaps not. Perhaps I didn’t lock it well enough and a strong wind blew it open. For a second time, I returned to my high-mattress bed with the covers undone and gave another try at gaining some sleep out of that wretched night. That time, I was awarded no rest. Although the fire in my fireplace from the previous afternoon was still lit, for all the good it did me, it could have been a fire of icicles, with a chilly, icy flame and exhaust .
A terrible cold filled the room; as if Death himself were freezing the air. My eyes were starting to play tricks on me; the oak tree’s branches were making a smooth grab at the doorknob outside my balcony door. The small fire was casting ghoulish shadows along the wall, dancing and leaping like evil on parade. I pulled the covers up over my head (and yet my face was still cold) but the frightening images still remained in my head.
Minutes passed.
It became colder. Much colder. I could almost feel the icy fingers from my nightmare tickling my body. To set my mind at ease, I blindly reached for the switch on my lamp, which sent it crashing to the floor. By this time, my wits were jumping about like the flickering shadows on the wall. With another attempt to calm myself, I began groping about on my night stand for my pipe and lighter. Both of these items followed my lamp to the floor. Once again, I ducked my head under the covers. I began to feel more relaxed until slowly very slowly and quietly, there came a noise from everywhere in my room all at once, getting louder and louder all the while. A quiet rasping voice: Aaaahhhhhh...
Then, all in a blur, the balcony doors shot open, the fire hissed out menacingly, and the covers were torn from my bed. After a few moments, all was quiet; almost tranquil. Until two bright lights appeared at the foot of my bed. The lights hovered there, twinkling like Sapphires. Like the eyes of my dearly departed Evelyn. Only they looked different; like the way they were on the night of her most unfortunate death. A figure began to form around those eyes: the figure of dearest Evelyn. She was wearing the same cream-colored gown she wore upon the night of her death. Accompanying the gown was a single blood-black stain over her heart, where her unknown assailant had stabbed her.

With a slur because of the broken jaw that the killer had forged, she spat:
“On the night we were wed, you pledged your love to me, and I to you, yes?”
I sat upright in my bed, severely stunned, until finally, I gave a meager nod.
She continued:
“We pledged that we would stand by one another in sickness and in health, and even in
death, did we not?”
Feeling as though I were made of stone, I forced another pathetic nod.
“Then why is it,” she went on, “that after I have passed on , you have found another to ‘love’?”
The only noises I could produce were unidentifiable stuttering sounds.
“If you are not man enough to stick to your vows,” she proceeded, “than I shall force you to!”
She grabbed my neck with hands of decaying flesh and permafrost, and I began pleading for forgiveness and longing for warmth. Through the balcony door she took me, cursing me as a liar and accusing in a loud, hoarse voice “No one could have ever recreated the pain you’ve brought upon me tonight!”. She dangled me over the ledge and cast me down to the rocks in the ocean below. There I suffered my fate:
To be with my love in death forever.


The author's comments:
The piece most fondly expresses various techniques that I use in any other of my writings. Basically, when I wrote it, I tried to write like Edgar Allen Poe. I think that the product was very good.

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on Oct. 21 2008 at 9:50 pm
yes, i do see some edgar allen poe. However, at some parts you did vary. Still, you have great skills with or without edgar allen poe's style. I hope to see more of you, possible, on this site.