[Poe always did enjoy putting on a bit of a show for others. Perhaps it was some form of influence from his birth parents, or his godmother. Or maybe it was just the desire for attention and recognition. It certainly helped that Halloween was approaching, and with it all the forms of ghastly ghouls and ghosts and general horrors that come with the approaching, dead months.
The dark, and cold of winter that chilled a person’s bones. His own thoughts reflected to that of the New England winters, of the approaching, cold months in Maryland. That wasn’t his focus here though, no instead he sat before a small group of people, mostly refugees that he had called on over to give a small show for. Reciting his poems and stories to them in the spirit of things.]
See how the blood would pump from one atrium to the next? [He spoke, dissecting what looked, for all the world to see, to be a human heart.]
Pushing it through the body as the body’s natural electric current powers it. But sometimes… the heart has a power all its own.
[He gives a small smile to the crowd and those watching over the network as the disembodied heart seemed to pulse for a moment. Low, and dull as it thumped.]
True! — nervous — very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses — not destroyed — not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily — how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
[Another, low and dull thud of the heart as he recited the story. All the way up until towards the end. When the beating grew louder, heavier, and hard. Faster, like it might burst from the force!
Those with a particularly guilty conscious might even hear a sort of unnerving ringing in their ears, including that of a heart beat. Growing louder the more and more nervous, and more and more guilty that person began to feel. Thump-thump... thump-thump... thump-thump....]
Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! — no, no! They heard! — they suspected! — they knew! — they were making a mockery of my horror! — this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! — and now — again! — hark! louder! [Thud-thud] louder! [Thud-thud] louder! [THUD-THUD] louder! — [THUD-THUD]
“Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed! — tear up the planks! — here, here! — it is the beating of his hideous heart!”
[The heart finally ceased its beating and lay motionless on the table. Granted those more deeply affected by the spell may still hear a faint heart beat... but that must just be their own... Right?
...thump...thump....]
II – Soul cakes
[When he wasn’t putting on shows, or simply enjoying the festive time, Poe had taken himself to baking. Yes, baking. A form of trick-or-treating did still exist in the mid-19th century! Just not quite the one that everyone knows. So what did he bake?
Well, he went out of his way to make these delicious cakes. And was currently handing them out. Mostly to the poor and children, but also to anyone who might be interested.]
III – The Haunted Gallery
Quite unsettling, yes. But is it truly that terrifying?
[He was busily observing some of the artwork on the walls. Watching the eyes as the eyes watched him. Not wholly impressed by the whole matter, but still finding it somewhat amusing in its effects.]
Though, I must wonder if they may do something more than simply glare holes into you. I did hear from those before us that a few may pass on a curse to you.
[How whimsical!]
[WILDCARD]
[If you don’t see anything you like here let me know, or simply write one up that you’d rather do~. Feel free to also check out the plotting post here if you want~.]
Edgar Allan Poe | The Raven (2012)
[Poe always did enjoy putting on a bit of a show for others. Perhaps it was some form of influence from his birth parents, or his godmother. Or maybe it was just the desire for attention and recognition. It certainly helped that Halloween was approaching, and with it all the forms of ghastly ghouls and ghosts and general horrors that come with the approaching, dead months.
The dark, and cold of winter that chilled a person’s bones. His own thoughts reflected to that of the New England winters, of the approaching, cold months in Maryland. That wasn’t his focus here though, no instead he sat before a small group of people, mostly refugees that he had called on over to give a small show for. Reciting his poems and stories to them in the spirit of things.]
See how the blood would pump from one atrium to the next? [He spoke, dissecting what looked, for all the world to see, to be a human heart.]
Pushing it through the body as the body’s natural electric current powers it. But sometimes… the heart has a power all its own.
[He gives a small smile to the crowd and those watching over the network as the disembodied heart seemed to pulse for a moment. Low, and dull as it thumped.]
True! — nervous — very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses — not destroyed — not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily — how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
[Another, low and dull thud of the heart as he recited the story. All the way up until towards the end. When the beating grew louder, heavier, and hard. Faster, like it might burst from the force!
Those with a particularly guilty conscious might even hear a sort of unnerving ringing in their ears, including that of a heart beat. Growing louder the more and more nervous, and more and more guilty that person began to feel. Thump-thump... thump-thump... thump-thump....]
Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! — no, no! They heard! — they suspected! — they knew! — they were making a mockery of my horror! — this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! — and now — again! — hark! louder! [Thud-thud] louder! [Thud-thud] louder! [THUD-THUD] louder! — [THUD-THUD]
“Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed! — tear up the planks! — here, here! — it is the beating of his hideous heart!”
[The heart finally ceased its beating and lay motionless on the table. Granted those more deeply affected by the spell may still hear a faint heart beat... but that must just be their own... Right?
...thump...thump....]
II – Soul cakes
[When he wasn’t putting on shows, or simply enjoying the festive time, Poe had taken himself to baking. Yes, baking. A form of trick-or-treating did still exist in the mid-19th century! Just not quite the one that everyone knows. So what did he bake?
Well, he went out of his way to make these delicious cakes. And was currently handing them out. Mostly to the poor and children, but also to anyone who might be interested.]
III – The Haunted Gallery
Quite unsettling, yes. But is it truly that terrifying?
[He was busily observing some of the artwork on the walls. Watching the eyes as the eyes watched him. Not wholly impressed by the whole matter, but still finding it somewhat amusing in its effects.]
Though, I must wonder if they may do something more than simply glare holes into you. I did hear from those before us that a few may pass on a curse to you.
[How whimsical!]
[WILDCARD]
[If you don’t see anything you like here let me know, or simply write one up that you’d rather do~. Feel free to also check out the plotting post here if you want~.]