O.K. another fun story I made up & Im gonna share. Do we have any Edger Allan Poe fans out there? I love Edger Allan Poe! I love his stories & his poems! I spent majority of my childhood reading Tell-Tale-Heart & The Raven. Lately I have been reading The Raven over & over again. & I decided to make my own version of The Raven. Yes, its gonna be a little silly. & still have Edger Allan Poe. In this story, the setting is in Bayside Video Control Room on a Sunday night. Me speaking of coarse. Characters are the people I work w/. & I decided the title is gonna be called The Sunday Night Director. . .Oh for God sakes! Yes Ricky! The story is about you! Like everything else! Well, its not my fault your so damn talented & you just fit in EVERYTHING! Anyway, the people I chose for this are, I just mentioned one, Ricky Mortensen & I also chose Lawrence Martin. Lawrence has the perfect name & I see him every Sunday night. SweetHeart ^_^ Michael J. Farrand & Diana Salierno (non facebooker) are mentioned. So. . .I give you, The Sunday Night Director... Once upon a Sunday night dreary, while I was singing loud & off key, over many songs of worship with volume to my one true Lord- While I was boldly sqwalking, suddenly I hear someone walking As of some one slowly walking, walking near the control room door. Tis the someone of Bayside staff, I muttered, walking near the control room door- Tis that and nothing more. Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each month ending in ember brought the Holy Ghost upon the worship floor. Eagerly I prayed for tomorrow;- without vain and no sorrow From the people I see no sorrow Especially no sorrow from the gentle Lawrence- For the rare and radiant fusionite whom the singles named Lawrence- There he is! At the entrance! And the silken, lively, yet uncertain rustling of each black curtain Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic thrills never felt before; Eh, Im still standing here repeating Tis some volunteer entreating entrance near the control room door- Some Bayside staff entreating entrance near the control room door;- Totally it and nothing more. Presently my soul filled with excitement not shy, but with contentment, Michael, said I, or Diana, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was silently sqwalking, and so gently you came walking, And so faintly you came walking, walking near the control room door, That I know for sure I heard you- here I open wide the door;- . . .Nothing there and nothing more. Deep into the nothing blank, long I stood there wondering, did I make a mistake? Doubting dreams I made on my own that no one could ever understand; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word, I swear I heard, was whispered, Lawrence? This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, Lawrence!- Merely this and nothing more. Back into the control room where I felt the burning, all within my stomach turning, Soon again I heard walking somewhat louder than before. Surely, said I, surely that is nothing I bet; Let my head stop going Coo-Coo and be still for a moment;- Tis nothing! And nothing more! Open the door I heard the shutter, then he came in with such a flutter, In stepped in the stately Ricky of 17 to be Sunday Night Director; Not at all absurd; not a minute stopped or waisted by he; But, with his eyes on the one true Lord, he perched on the directors chair- Perched upon with a bust of pride on the directors chair- Perched, and sat and nothing more. Then ebony like boy beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, Though thy like what I see! I said, art sure not icky, Oh young mighty Ricky malanduring in from this evenings shore- Tell what thy Lord hath told you tonight for me in store! Quoth the Ricky Camera4 Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no mature being Ever yet was blessed with seeing a young boy sitting in the director chair- Wise or foolish sitting on the leather seat called the directors chair, With such an object called Camera4 But Ricky, sitting lonely on the leather seat, spoke only That one one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered- not a word the he muttered- Till I scarcely more then muttered Other Friends have done other things before- I wont leave you. I have done other things before. Then Ricky said ..Camera4 Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, Doubtless, said I, what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore- Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of on object called Camera- camera4 But Ricky still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of him; Then, upon the leather sinking, I betook myself to thinking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous boy of yore- What this funny, silly, yet ghastly, and ominous boy of yore Meant in croaking Camera4. This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the boy whose fiery eyes now burned into my very core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushions leather lining that the room lights gloating oer, But whose black leather lining with the room lights gloating oer, none shall press on camera4! Then, methought, the air grew. . . something, perfumed by the unpleasant Dust particles swung from here to there and tinkled to the floor. Wretch, I cried, thy God hath lent thee- by the angels he hath sent thee Respite- respite and nepenthe from thy sweetness of Lawrence; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and be kind to Lawrence! Quoth the Ricky Camera4? Prophet! said I, secret thing of evil!- prophet still, if boy or maybe devil!- Whether sent here, or tossed here, Director of all enchanted, in this Holy building that was ranted- You make this home to be haunted- tell me truly, I implore- Is there- is there someone you need up here?- tell me- tell me, I implore! Quoth the Ricky . .Camera. .4? Prophet! said I, secret thing of evil!- prophet still, if boy or maybe the devil! By that Heaven that is above us- by that God we both adore- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant. . .Land of some sort in rubbish, It shall clasp a sainted Fusionite whom the singles named Lawrence. Quoth the Ricky Uh. . .Camera4? Be that word our sign of parting, boy or fiend! I shrieked, upstarting- Get thee back into the curtain and the Night shall have its show! Take thy black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my helpfulness unbroken!- quit that bust on the chair! Take thy beak from out my heart and take thy form out the door! Quoth the Ricky Chelsea, for God sakes! Why are you speaking in riddles & strange tongues?! Get over it! Tonight your doing Camera4! And Ricky, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting In the directors chair just by the control room door; And his eyes have all the seeming of what looks like a demons dreaming, And the dim lights oer him streaming throws his shadows on the floor; And my soul from out the door that walks upon the floor Shall always be- Camera4!
Posted on: Fri, 12 Dec 2014 06:45:00 +0000
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