Video // un; E.A Poe

[quotetheraven]

[The video feed cuts to a rather pensive looking man, somewhere in his forties. He could be heard mumbling about odd machines, and something about not really expecting the afterlife to look like this. Quite a few people should instantly recognize him.

And without any warning he starts mutter a poem to himself.]

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Bah, whatever. Greetings to all of... whatever you all are. I am Edgar Allan Poe. Here to join you all in this fever dream.

Comments

[quotetheraven]

[Ah heck; someone else that recognizes genius when they see it!]

Hm, yes. I'm quite dead. Or perhaps near death. It's all fuzzy, but I know for certain that I am dead.

[flewfromthecage]

Do you... not recall it happening?

[How curious. From what she has heard, there are some here that do remember the events leading up to their death. Is he simply assuming that this must be death based upon the circumstances?]

[quotetheraven]

I recall what killed me, yes. But the moments leading up became a blur that ended in darkness.

[So yes and no. But he is deader than a doorknob; he knows that. Therefore, he is dead. Or somewhere near dead. It was probably better not to think about it until October. ]

[flewfromthecage]

Ah... I'm very sorry.

[How to express condolences for someone who is already dead? All that remains for him is to accept it, or perhaps not. It must be a difficult thing to come to terms with.]

Poetry is what you did in life, then? Did you try your hand at any other forms of writing on the side?

[quotetheraven]

The deed is done. And I've my turnabout.

[He still sounds more than a little bitter over it. But well he was alive! Or not alive....]

Oh of course! Prose, novels, short stories, critiquing others. No matter the means, I am a writer at heart.