Once upon a midnight dreary while I pondered weak and weary over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore. While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping as if someone gently rapping, rapping on the study door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "seeking entrance at my study door. Yes, entreating entrance at my study door."

To corrobate my hypothesis, I rose, floating upon the wooden floor seeking the truth that I knew wouldn't be found in the small town of Nibelheim. Distinctly I remember, 'twas in the bleak December and each seperate dying ember wrought it's gohst upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow vainly I had sought to borrow memories surseace of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lucretia.

As I reached the door, I heard nothing save my own breath which flowed out of my maw in great steaming gasps. Not but the greatest terror I had ever felt was this night in the basement of a mansion towering above the small homes of children and mothers. Not but a wandering soul, lost in wars of long ago would wander down the stairs forbidden to mortals just to reach the floor where they would wander nevermore for this door was the gate to eternal suffering and the freezing wrath of Hades. Such torture was that I had suffered for years past.

Here I opened wide the door only to see darkness before me that of which I had known so well in the millenia come to pass. My voice was a silent rasp within the whispers of the dead surrounding my soulless shell. "Sir? Maddam? Please let me take it upon myself to apologise for your abode for which I am responsible for you see I was napping and so gently you came rapping and so lightly you came tapping that I scarce was sure I heard you." No reply floated back to me for the moments that I stood paitiently waiting for no mortal had strayed so far since my eternal placement in this dungeon. I wished nothing more than to see life once more, for the undead have no place with the living.

My mind began to wander and my soul continued to rove the study in search of the memory left long ago of my lond passed love, Lucretia. A clatter broke the silence, causing my ears to roar beyond all mortal extent to the piont of bleeding. I had the feeling of falling and then my crimson eyes stared up at the ebony chocobo by my side. "Speak thy name," I rasped all my sense had been lost in that tormenting sound. The quaintly bird stood ever so still and silent for many moments untill one word escaped his beak "Nevermore"

Zeki: Thank you, thank you! I have been thinking on this for a long time and I thought Holloween would be the appropriate time to let it out for testing. I would like to thank Edgar Allan Poe for the idea and Vincent for his extensive vocabulary. Most of all I would like to thank the black chocobo named Jareth who also appeared in the last edition.

Jareth: WAAARK!

Zeki: Also, I would like to say that the next chocobo ride will be going to Great Glacier, so if anyone has an idea E-mail me at zekirocks@yahoo.com. Vincent WILL "die" in each of these, so keep that in mind. I WILL give you credit if you help me out on this one.

Vincent: Thank you... I am undead, so I can't die. Don't go all teary-eyed for me.

Zeki: Don't worry, Vamp-boy, we wont!

You can also see the first one!

Go back in time to when Vincent still lives