This post is going to be part of a series based on the love story of Edgar Allan Poe‘s poem “Annabel Lee.”

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;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

Than to love and be loved by me…

The words roll around in my mind, marbles on a marble floor.

I stand alone on a grassy hill, watching the gray clouds reflected in greenish water.  A storm is coming.  The ocean churns and froths beneath my empty stare, bubbling up like pus from a great wound.  But all I can think about is my heart, lying in the tomb.  Cold, lonely, lost.

My Annabel is gone.

Sweet Annabel Lee, my first, my only love.

I had never loved God or His angels.  Even as a boy I was ever skeptical of the mercy and kindness others painted Him with.  But I have never hated those divinities more than I do at this very moment.

Those jealous seraphs killed my beloved, and God Almighty allowed it to happen.  I feel myself shaking with rage and grief.

Closing my eyes, I think back to the day I met Annabel.

I had been playing at the beach, frolicking gaily at the shore just beyond the reach of the waves.  The sky was vivid lapis lazuli, the breeze, light and sweet.  I do not remember the water being particularly warm, but it was clean and clear, refreshing.  The dry sand sparkled white and the wet sand was soft gold, silky and fine.  Gulls cried, their voices carried across the beach by the breeze, breaking sharply in my ear.  Waves rolled, the low, melodious hiss of the surf soothed the birds’ shrill shrieks.

I was perhaps one and ten years.  By my mother’s accounts, I was a handsome boy.  She loved to run her fingers though my wavy blond hair and tousle it gently.  My skin was barely three shades lighter than honey, but still fair and unmarked.  However, what people first noticed were my eyes.  Large and uncannily bright, they were the deep blue of a summer ocean.

I had just scooped up a handful of sand when a shadow fell over my head.  Annoyed that this new obstacle was blocking the sun’s warmth, I looked up.

Probably appearing rather ridiculous, I shielded my eyes with one sandy arm and squinted, opening my mouth and cocking my head to the left.  What I saw slackened my jaw and made my arm drop like a stone.

A girl about my age stood in front of me.  The waves tugged at her long, pale pink dress, twisting it around her ankles, bits of white foam caught in the hem.  Long dark hair, locks of chestnut laced with amber, danced around a heart-shaped face.  Her magnolia white skin held the faintest flush across her cheekbones.  Lips, the dewy fresh color of roses, slightly parted, revealed pearly white teeth.  Luminescent eyes started down at me.  The incredible green of gemstones, they reminded me of my mother’s emeralds or the exotic lumps of jade she kept locked in a special velvet box.  Dark, curling lashes ringed the eyes and cast shadows down on her face like the silhouette of delicate black lace.

She knelt before me and sat with a grace I hadn’t thought a girl her age capable of.

“May I join you?” She asked, her voice soft and clear as a crystal bell.

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