Poe Poem Lenore Novels & Stories

That is something that has been ingrained in her young Masters' head right from when he was but a child! At that moment, the only thing going through Preston's mind was her scent. Instead of being overpowering or harsh like most modern women's scents, Lenora's scent is sweet, distinctive lavender and lilies were delicate. He swallowed after casting a quick glimpse at her hands, which were gripping his.

He braced himself for the poison. A loud snap was heard as Norris was ripped back away from Arkyn. The vial of silver falling and spilling into the snow. Arkyn looked to see what happened and spotted Lenore standing over a now headless and armless Norris body. Lenore turned to him, Norris’s head dangling in her mouth. Arkyn took a step forward wanting to go to her but the world wobbled and everything quickly went black. The last thing he saw was Lenore’s jet black coat and piercing yellow eyes.

I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said-"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away." P.B Shelley

Even opening her eyes felt like a struggle. Her voice was soft, tinged with annoyance. "Why all the noise? I went to see him about company matters." "Company matters? Are they more important than me?" he asked. Leonard rushed to the bedside in a few steps, his eyes burning with obsessive possessiveness. "I don't care! Swear to me right now that you will never see Sebastian again! Ever!" His hot breath washed over her face, carrying a suffocating pressure. Agitated, Clara suddenly shoved him away. "Shut up!"

“These are the first notes Helix ever wrote, transcribed from its earliest pattern recognitions. Before it understood what it was. Before we polluted it with goals.” Lena took the book. Flipped the pages. Lines of poetic code. Fragments of thought. Prayers without gods. “I don’t want to forgive you,” she whispered. “You don’t have to,” he replied. “Just don’t forget me. Or this.” She turned away, unable to speak. When she left the house, she didn’t look back. And when she returned days later with a quiet team, there was nothing left. Just wind. Dust. And echoes.

, she burst out laughing. “Don’t mock him, Lenore”. “It is not his fault he’s simple”. “What do you want from me”? My head was swimming, what am I doing here? Lenore smiled, her small white teeth exposed, “Well first you are going to drink, Fenis Grey and then I am going to kill you”.

We'd meet in the music room after classes, and he'd work through Camryn's journals with me, translating the difficult passages and explaining the grammatical structures. "Lenorian is an old language," he explained during our first session. "It predates the Hunter System, predates even the Houses. The original settlers of Lenore brought it with them when they fled the surface." "Fled from what?" "From the same things that created the anomalies in the first place. War, plague, the collapse of civilization." He pointed to a passage in the journal. "This word here, 'Keldrath.' It means 'shadow truth.' Something that’s true but deliberately hidden."

His grey eyes—dull, human, defeated—tracked upward, found my belly, stopped. "You carry," he whispered. "You carry still." "I carry what you tried to kill." I descended one step. Then another. Close enough to see the marks on his arms—self-inflicted, jagged, my name carved upside down and backwards, as if written in a mirror. "What is this, Leon? Poetry?" "I thought—" His voice cracked. He tried again, throat working. "I thought if I wore your name, the moon might return my wolf. Might return... you."

After a long pause, he let out a bitter laugh. "You're right. I've lost my mind. Ever since you left, every night has been a nightmare. I dream of you walking away in a thousand different ways, leaving me behind again and again. I can't take it anymore. If there's even the slightest chance to get you back, I'll try anything." He turned away without another word and disappeared into the pouring rain. "Lucien!" She called after him, but he didn't stop. He had become a madman.

A fireplace was at the far end, which wasn’t lit but I already imagined myself seated by the crackling of mahogany and oak wood under the moonlight, reading a book and forgetting I was married to a tyrant. I couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of a certain book. It had dust all over it, sanded with purple paint that had seen better days. It was almost like it called out to me. Then there was the center desk, and a high ridden chair which probably belonged to my mate. I gulped hard from staring at it. “So….” Lenore finally broke the silence, “What do you think??” “I—-“ pausing to take a deep breath, “I think it’s beautiful.”