prompt: weary, title: darkness nothing more in misc. flash fiction

You have to see it from my point of view, that guy was just depressed for depression’s sake. Just to wallow in it, just because being sad made him feel special and deep. Lenore had been gone for years at that point, literally plural years, any of that heartbreak was long faded. Morose brooding no longer needed legitimate reason, it was just a horizonless rut that gave him a sense of identity.

Oh, I read that poem too. Don’t be surprised, ravens really are that intelligent. Even the parts of it that were true though, Jesusing Christ, he exaggerated beyond credulity. Even in his weaseling of words, to make you believe that Lenore had died, died of some romantic wasting disease that left behind an iridescently beautiful corpse? No. She left him. She dumped his melodramatic ass after years of trying to get him to cheer up a bit. “Plutonian Shore” as if she sailed to Pluto’s afterlife? She went to Pluto, West Virginia to stay with her aunt and get her head together. It is a common thing after the end of a long relationship. But that wouldn’t be self-aggrandizing enough!

And yes, I did break The Animal Code to talk to him but certainly nothing as junior-high school as “Nevermore.” I was, like, “She left, let it go!” I was, like, “Lenore’s long gone, please move on.” “Nevermore.” This dude, this absolute unit of moping self-involvement. I bet when he cuts himself shaving, he bleeds not blood but tiny Cure albums.

“Once upon a midnight dreary as I pondered weak and weary.” No, it was every midnight dreary and if he was ever weak or weary, it was only from never leaving that McMansion as he slowly drank away his trust fund. Well, it wasn’t just booze, of course, there were a lot of white puffy button-down shirts and tight black pants too.

I’ve lived in the trees outside his house for years. Lenore was really sweet, actually, she would occasionally leave me shiny buttons with which to line my nest, you should see it, it is hella rad. I miss her too, though I can’t blame her. After a long enough stretch of hearing him whine his damn fool head off on the other side of the window, I just had to knock on the door to come in and talk to him myself. A little avian intervention if you will.

I would say “this is not healthy, get a good therapist”, all he heard was “nevermore”. I’d tell him to sign up for Plenty of Fish or Tinder and all he’d hear was “nevermore”. I’d tell him he loved being heartbroken than so much more than he ever loved Lenore, all he heard was “nevermore”.

Maybe I ought to just fly off to Pluto myself. I hear it’s beautiful this time of the year. He never really loved that girl, of that I am certain. He loved his own sense of darkness and nothing more.

Last updated June 03, 2021