Here's a piece of writing I did back in 7th grade. Our assignment was to write in the style of Edgar Allen Poe. This is what I'd created. I think it's a good example of my vocabulary (though this obviously overuses it... a lot), and I'm quite proud of it. I should mention that I am an optimistic and friendly person, with an active social life and am surrounded by good friends and family! Anyway, here it is. Enjoy!
Oh, with such fidelity does death take me. With such grace, such calculation, that even my senses, with their adroit readings, don’t detect the sleek and progressively mephitic feeling of dread, derision that death presents. It has the touch of insufferable pain, its laughter is that of a caustic cry, and, had it eyes to see out of and to be seen, they would have been filled with rancor, and with malice, at the mere musing of entering my head, my senses, my soul.
Oh, how the darkness looms before me, over me, within me. It is what the soul cannot extricate, what the light cannot deflect and what is within the bowls of the great jaws of malevolent archness, of malicious astuteness. Death presents thousands upon thousands of souls, minds, and choices, each attempting to be at the forefront of my vision.
Oh, how I fall. Fall into the precipitous chill that runs down every person’s spine as they realize that someone is within them, gradually taking over from within, subtly pressuring, influencing, their actions until they are no longer human at all. But let us not forget about the emotions, the senses, the coherent mind and body of death itself. It is what we deny, what we attempt to remold into light, when in truth we know nothing but darkness. Death cannot destroy what it means to be human, nor what we think of as joy or happiness.
Oh, the pain! I see only the lassitude, the indolence, of what were once gifted people- talented, endowed people, such as myself- all of whom snatched up by death. All the joy and happiness sucked away. Everything, all hope, is gone. Only the animosity remains, obfuscating my vision. And then I see death itself. It is not at all what I expect.
It is rushing wind; though inscrutability hinders full explication. It bares no sentiment, no feeling, no reaction. And there is something else... I am falling. I am descending, but from where? I look up- if there really is an “up”- and see light.
I suddenly realize that I hate that puny speck of warmth, that source of freedom. I hate it! I am content on staying within the velvety blackness, the cold, the pain, the enormity.
As death takes me down, down into the ever-lasting dreadful pit of hell, I feel the pressure... and I like it, oh yes! The utter feeling of death trickling down onto me! I love it. Yes! Yes! I enjoy the taste of despair, the feeling of hopelessness, of despondency. I enjoy the feeling of dejection, which connotes death. I want more. More darkness, more despair. I hate that diminutive glimmer, that petite glare.
But that glare is the only thing that allows me to struggle on. Is this some test, some form of clarification, elucidation to make sure that I am able to ascend up into the light...
NO! How dare I think to go up into the epizootic light. How dare I think about leaving my one true home of death. How dare I! I want to destroy the light; I must make it completely and utterly dark. I must negate the fact that the light is up there and must make the world see the blackness, the perfect hum of dark curtains whispering over oneself. I must make the world engulf the sense of understanding and of sagacity that death offers. I want the world to embrace the clarity!
But what clarity does hell have to present? Is it simply cajolery? Or is it purpose? Purpose? Oh, I know that word, “purpose”. It is purpose that binds us, that drives us, makes us, and controls us.
Exactly, yes. That light is simply control, purpose, something that should never even exist. It must go away. But, no. Why, it is still there. That filthy light! I want to kill it! Make the pain cease! Please, make it stop!
Now there is something else; a sort of feeling... No! I now not only want to destroy the light, but the warm and soft touch of love and of good that is exuding from it. Get it OFF! The darkness is heaven! This is where I belong. This is my domicile. Yes! Yes, this is the very meaning of perfection, of clarity.
That light, up there, don’t go there. That is merely an illusion, a pile of bad tricks that make you want to embrace it. It is nothing compared to the cold, devious, conniving, awesome power of death, of obliteration, of annihilation.
Good god, what am I becoming? I am mad!
What did you just think? You thought of me as a lunatic, as unbalanced, as mad? How dare you. You want me to embrace the light? No! I stay with the darkness. You think me mad? MAD? We shall see who is mad! I am merely the beginning of the clarity. I am the beginning of the vicious cycle of hatred, of fear, of remorse.
Suddenly the light grows outsized, superior, finer. It seals my vision. No!
Let it consume me.
I need that light.
I need it. Don’t do this.
Take me back to the darkness! Please. I NEED it!
No, I don’t need this beggarly show of tricks. It represents the evil inside of me, the essence of hatred. Let it go.
Now the light is over me, within me. I feel it forcing the heavenly- no, not the right word- the hellish- yes that is better- the hellish blackness out of me. I don’t need it. I require the light. I abnegate my hold on death’s hand, and embrace true heaven! I am free. Free. Peace is finally here.
I love it! Oh yes. The source of the warmth, the love and the good cascading over me, around me. I enjoy the taste of utter sympathy, of empathy. I want it. I need it. It is lucidity, clarity, perfection, and, ooh, sweat symmetry. I have finally arrived at heavens door...