The Dragon and the Owl

by UniqueSKD

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Dark
Length: 988

A take on the Quoth The Raven poem featuring Spike and Owlowiscious

Spike's beloved Rarity is dead, a victim to the silent killer that is Time. Surpassing the mare of his dreams because of his prolonged lifespan, the dragon locks himself away in his bedroom, mourning for the passing of his beloved each night, alcohol staining his mouth in futile attempts to drown his pain.

His sorrow is interrupted one night, however, by something tapping on the window to his room.
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A (mediocre) take on the famous 'Quoth The Raven' poem. Enjoy it. Or not. No skin off my nose.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-11-21 01:20:01 UTC

The Dragon and the Owl

Once upon the darkest night, underneath Lady Luna's moonlight,

By the unclean window sill at which I've spent many nights by before,

Raising my bottle for yet another taste of the drink I had discovered,

Aging away in the basement far beneath the castle floor,

"Another taste of poison," I sigh, "the same as each night before -

Another drink, and then some more."

As I raise the drink to my lips I distinctly recall diamond hips,

Diamonds engraved upon a flank of white like the winter snow,

A form of such perfection and the object of my sincere affection,

Yet sadly of my desire and longing for her, she did not know,

And by the name of Rarity went that sweet purple-maned beauty,

And she was a gorgeous pony.

And during that time I was happy even though I felt so damn crappy,

A wicked feeling brought upon me by my cowardice to profess,

To the mare who I sincerely with all my tiny heart loved dearly,

And longed to lock her hooves in my claws and at long last confess,

My deepest lifelong wanting for her and I to be something more,

It was all I would ask for.

Days became months and then years bringing with them so many cheers,

Many happy times and many sad times and many ventures galore,

And for all that time I remained by the mare who lit my heart with flames,

Fiery passions and burning desires that demanded her and I to be more,

More than just simple friends, with her delicate hoof resting in my claw,

But it was a fantasy, nothing more.

So quickly did the years pass and ignorant was I of the hourglass,

That I did not foresee my dear dear friends succumb to wicked age,

And my beloved's youth began fading and her liveliness was waning,

And in desperation I scanned through many a magic tome and page,

But alas, no spell nor potion existed that could undo the heinous crime,

Committed by cruel Father Time.

The day my beloved was placed into her earthly bed with grace,

Was wrought with rain that fell from the heavens like angelic tears,

When the service was done, and speeches were made one by one,

I knelled by the headstone and roared with loud sorrow and fears,

And there I stayed weeping until Twilight came to bring me home,

In this world I felt alone.

And now I sit here by the window, drinking down my glass of woe,

Mourning the passing of my beloved Rarity each day and night,

Another fill made to my glass, to keep me bloody drunk off my ass,

Lest Twilight or somepony else entered and saw my sorry sight,

And soon into slumber I fall while in my mourning room,

My warm prison, my homely tomb.

But in the midst of my drunk napping, there suddenly came a tapping,

A strange and queer rapping coming from the window before my eyes,

But outside I saw only pitch-dark blackness, and no pony,

Dismissed it I did as a drunk delusion, a simple alcohol-induced lie,

And so back into my chair I did return,

The candle fire flicker and burn.

But once again there soon came that queer tapping noise again,

That tap-tap-tapping sound I heard upon my window a while before,

I looked outside the window pane, for the pony that was to blame,

No clue nor sight of anypony did I see, exactly just like before.

Curious, I laid my drink upon the table side,

Stood up, and opened my window wide.

Something suddenly came through flapping, startled I found myself collapsing,

Falling backwards with my scaled purple rump firmly rooted to the floor,

Panic was my feeling, over what creature with I'd be dealing.

What entity that was responsible for knocking me to the floor,

Once calm and collected, I forced my green eyes,

To look behind me, and was took by surprise.

There, its shadow cast on the floor, tidily perched atop my bedroom door

A small owl there was, gazing down, and I gazed back in confused awe,

It stared without blinking, and I suddenly without thinking,

Pounced up from the wooden ground and marched to my door,

Asked I, "You there, feathery fiend, get off my door!"

Replied the owl, "She is no more."

Staggering back in awe and surprise, from the avian pest before my eyes

Wondering if perhaps the poison drink had kicked in earlier than before,

"Did you just speak to me, or am I imagining what cannot be?"

So ridiculous the thought now I pondered upon it, a talking bird upon my door?

Shaking the bizarre thought aside,

I went to send my intruder back outside.

But away from me did he flutter, and once more did he mutter

"She is no more. She is no more. She is no more. She is no more."

Repeated did the owl his words, that it began to make me absurd,

That I contemplated choking the life out of that find upon my door

Taking my wine glass, I took aim,

Unfortunately my throw was lame

The glass shattered against the wall and not even close to the owl at all,

And the sharp fragments scattered from the impact all upon the floor

I felt my anger rising and suddenly without realizing

I threw myself toward the owl, still perched upon my door

At the last second, the owl then took flight

"Rarity is no more," said it in wicked delight.

Picking myself up from the floor, I turned to the owl once more

"Don't you dare speak my beloved's name!" I threatened with a growl

The horrid thing paid no heed, and refusing to concede,

Those same words were spoken over and over by the horrid owl

Quoth the owl, "Rarity is no more."

Said my tormentor forever more.