Tale of a tapping

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

...

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

I will put the entirety of the poem up after this, just to keep Poe's ghost happy. The last thing I need is him tap-tapping at my chamber door tonight.

I now write down a trivial occurence which happened over the weekend and spooked me utterly. There are many possible explanations for it, and I make no claims about it. But it freaked me enough to write it now, in the early morning; poetry, velvet and flannel will make it seem more like a story, but the last thing I need is to write it at night-time, alone in the house. I refuse to give it more atmosphere. My intention is to make it less real.

( Once upon a midnight dreary )

So much for the story, made fantastical by words. But the experience, I assure you, is quite real.

And now, lest I forget that most morbid of poets, here we go Poe:

http://www.heise.de/ix/raven/Literature/Lore/TheRaven.html

*Love you always, Carlos.

Ah.

Death today.