Hi Internet People,
I present to you more to you some writings by Edgar Allan Poe himself! Okay, not really, but I do have the ravens coming upon a new notebook containing some mildly morbid work by the writer in this new addition to the Poe Party Transmedia Exercise for the theme, eulogy.
“Those horoscopes sure did sound specific.”
“All smoke and mirrors I’m sure birdbrain. Still sounds pretty busy out there, maybe we should hide out for a little bit lo…”
Before Balt could finish his sentence both birds heard a feather ruffling scream ring through the air.
“Yeah, maybe let’s avoid whoever is killing guests and just roost in here for a bit. That alright with you Phil?”
“Yeah, sure Balt, hey wasn’t there a statue of you on that bookcase yesterday?”
“It wasn’t a statue of me fluff for brains, but there is normally a raven bookend on that shelf. It looks like one of the little leather books has fallen over. Let’s take a look shall we?”
Both birds flapped over to the shelf, but in their attempt to roost they knocked the already horizontal book onto the floor.
“Is this Ed’s poetry book?”
“I don’t think so, these don’t look like poems, at least not exactly. I think that says, ‘Dearly beloved’ right there. Hold on, I think this is a book of eulogies, at least sort of eulogies. I think Ed is practicing for funerals.”
“That’s dark stuff Balt.”
“I mean he writes about death and dismemberment, heck eulogies are tame by comparison.”
“I guess, but are these about the people at the party?”
The two birds leaned closer and began reading over the bits of text on the pages before them.
|Dearly Beloved, such an overused phrase, think of something more elegant, On this tragic day, yes much better, on this tragic day we find ourselves mourning the loss of one of our own. While the women she wrote may have been little, she herself was a great writer. Bit of lightness there, let it add to the emotion.|
|Today we honor the bountiful spirit of a man who could even bring warmth to the coldest lands. Oh very nice Edgar, let’s see. His work was as prolific as the amount of vodka he could imbibe in. That will need tweaked, perhaps I shouldn’t mention his drinking habits at such a serious time.|
|I myself was shocked to hear that a women who wrote about creating life had been taken from this world. Possibly a bit too humorous, but it’s just too easy. Enlightening or illuminating personality later on. I’m sure she’d approve of the comment, she’s probably donating her body to science. I bet I won’t even have to speak.|
|Ingrid, Eloise, Eunice, oh Emily yes, Emily I, you were, today we, I think I left the kettle on, really should go deal with that.|
|Her characters had such keen eyes for detail, but even they couldn’t have seen the death of their creator coming. Very clever, perhaps add a sweet quote from Miss Marple, such a kind character. Yes, that will be perfect.|
|While she may have written under a male pseudonym, yes everyone knows I can talk about it, this author was proud of her work and wished to make a name for herself. Don’t mention the fake mustaches, don’t mention the fake mustaches, really not the best time.|
|His quips could bring any room to tears, but today we weep not out of joy, but out of overwhelming sorrow. Such an opulent man would want an elegant send off to celebrate his fabulous lifestyle. I’ll definitely need a prop, perhaps I can bring a small picture, oh no a portrait, it will have to be a portrait.|
|Such a strong willed man with a penchant for shows of masculine bravado seemed as though he could never be brought down by even the strongest challenger. We have come together today to honor his loss to the ever valiant death. I could light a cigar for show, maybe pour out some whiskey for him.|
|The eldest of a sisterhood of writers, her grace of character and keen fashion sense made her a delight at parties. A handkerchief flourish seems appropriate here, I’ll borrow one of Lenore’s. I can leave it in the casket.|
|An inventive mind that looked to the future has found himself stolen out of time far too soon. His inventions will live on though he has been lost to this world. Can you make a bouquet of gaskets, gears, maybe some spark plugs? Oh perhaps make a donation to some sort of inventing guild.|
|I suppose Lenore is already dead, but maybe for her haunting anniversary I’ll recite The Raven for her.|
|Oh Annabel Lee! I cannot even bring myself to think of your death. Well, I can, I mean I do have that poem, but oh I cannot, I will not allow myself to think of it now.|
|Ugh, Eddie Dantes, Annabel could do so much better. Not that she can’t date other people, we aren’t together, but why him? Not going to waste any more time thinking about him, nope, oh wait. Yes, the devious character decision, yes! That will be wonderful! *maniacal laughter*|
|Hmm, my own eulogy. Perhaps create a list of my work to be read before the mourners. Ravens can roost in the trees surrounding the cemetery, a light mist will fall, and my casket will be overlaid with a bouquet of blood red roses. Oh yes, that is a delightful image.|
Talk to ya tomorrow,