Annabel Lee This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

September 26, 2012
It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee.

~ Edgar Allen Poe

He kept her arm in a bruising grip as he dragged her out of the carriage. The salty sea wind stung her eyes and hair that had come loose in her struggles lashed across her cheeks. She continued to fight him through the castle and up the winding staircase. He flung her into the tower room with such force that she fell painfully to the stone floor.

Defiant words died on her lips when she saw the gleam in his eyes as he looked at her disheveled figure. She scrambled to her feet, fear burning in her breast as her captor backed her into the wall.

“You will be my wife at dawn. Your poet,” he spat the word, “can’t save you.”

His fingers dug into her pale neck as his mouth came down on hers. Straining away from his touch, she tasted blood when her teeth succeeded in finding his lip. With a curse, the back of his hand exploded across her face and she found herself on the floor again. She heard the door slam behind him as she cradled her injured cheek in her hands.

Night fell, but she didn’t sleep. She stood gazing out through the narrow slit of a window, watching a ray of moonlight play across the sea.

“Oh, my love, I will miss you,” she whispered, her heart breaking, before she turned to the heavens. The stars were shining brighter than she had ever seen them before as she prayed. She prayed for freedom. She prayed for death. She prayed and begged until her voice was hoarse and the first hint of light showed over the water. She bowed her head in defeat; her tormentor would be there soon. A single tear slid down her cheek - then stopped. She touched it, only to find that it was frozen to her skin. A wind so cold it stole her breath rushed through the chamber. She smiled even as her lips turned blue.

Her abductor came at dawn to find her dead on the floor. There was a sparkle of frost in her raven hair and her garments were crusted with ice despite the warm sun streaming through the window. Weeping at what he had done, he built her a sepulchre of pure white marble, there beside her beloved sea.

As dark fell the night after her passing, her lover crept to her side and lay down with her, closing his eyes and listening to the waves as he imagined her eyes laughing at him. And, if you listened very carefully, you could hear the angels singing, welcoming Annabel Lee.

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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

Vagialena said...
Oct. 8, 2013 at 12:33 pm
    For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams οf the beautiful Annabel Lee     And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes οf the beautiful Annabel Lee...      What a beautiful story inspired of such a beautiful poem...
FyndFyre said...
Oct. 2, 2012 at 4:44 pm
Wow. This is amazing. You should write and publish a book based on this story! :-)
LiederMadchen This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Oct. 9, 2012 at 2:12 pm
Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :) I think it might be a little too depressing for a novel-length story, but who knows... :)
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