A classic audiobook narrated aloud as part of Calming Anxiety's Books at Bedtime series. Tonight's bedtime story is Silence — A Fable by Edgar Allan Poe, a strange, dreamlike prose poem and one of his least known and most hypnotic works, perfect for the long October nights leading up to Halloween. It was first published in 1838 under the title "Siope — A Fable" and is long in the public domain: Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849) died more than 175 years ago.
For more calming audiobooks and gentler sleep stories whenever you need them, download Anchored, the free companion app to Calming Anxiety, with offline-ready relaxation and Books at Bedtime sessions for any hour of the night.
"Listen to me," said the Demon, as he placed his hand upon my head.
The story
Transcribed from the audio, so the odd word may be off. Tap any line while it plays to keep the words in step with Martin's voice.
Books at bedtime by Calming Anxiety - Silence, a Fable by Edgar Allan Poe.
The mountain pinnacles slumber, valleys, cracks and craves are silent. "Listen to me," said the demon, as he placed his hand upon my head. "The region of which I speak is a dreary region of Libya by the borders of the river Zaire, and there is no quiet here, nor silence. The waters of the river have a saffron and stickly hue, and they flow not onwards to the sea, but palpitate forever and forever beneath the red eye of the sun, with a tumultuous and convulsive motion."
For many miles on, either side of the river, its oozy bed is a pale desert of gigantic water lilies.
They sigh one and to the other in that solitude, and stretch towards the heaven, they are long and ghastly necks, and nod to and fro their everlasting heads. And there is an indistinct murmur which come without from among them, like the rushing of subterrain water, as they sigh one and to the other. But there is a boundary to their own, and boundary of the dark, horrible lofty forest, there, like the waves about the hebrides, the low-underwood is agitated continually.
But there is no wind throughout the heaven, and the tall, primeval trees rock eternally hither and therether, with a crashing and mighty sound. And from their high summits, one by one, drop everlasting Jews. And at the root, strange poisonous flowers lie writhing in perturbed slumber, and overhead, with a rustling and loud noise, the grey clouds rush westwardly forever until they roam a cat-rac over the fiery wall of the horizon.
But there is no wind throughout the heaven, and by the shores of the river Zaire, there is neither quiet nor silence. It was night, and the rain fell, and falling it was rain, but having fallen it was blood.
And I stood in the morath, among the tall and the rain fell upon my head, and the lily side one and to the other in the solemnity of their desolation. And all at once, the moon arose through the thin ghastly mist, and was crimson in cover.
And my eyes fell upon a huge grey rock, with stood by the shore of the river, and was lighted by the light of the moon. And the rock was grey, and ghastly, and tall, and the rock was grey. Upon it's front were characters engraven in the stone, and I walked through the moraths of water lilies until I came close into the shore, that I might read the characters upon the stone, but I could not decipher them. And I was going back into the moraths when the moon shone with a fuller head, and I turned and looked again upon the rock, and upon the characters, and the characters were desolation.
And I looked upwards and there stood a man upon the summit of the rock, and I hid myself among the water lilies, that I might discover the actions of the man, and the man was torn and stately and form, and the outlines of his figure were indistinct, but his features were the features of deity, for the mantle of the night and of the mist, and of the moon and of the dew, had left uncovered the features of his face, and his brow was lofty with thought, and his eye wild with care, and in a few furrows upon his cheek, I read the fables of sorrow and weariness, and discussed with mankind, and a longing after solitude. And the man sat upon the rock, and leaned his head upon his hand, and looked out upon the desolation. He looked down into the low, unquiet, shrubbery, and up into the tall, primereal trees, and up higher at the rustling heaven, and into the crimson moon, and I lay close within shelter of the lilies, and observe the actions of the man, and the man cremdled in the solitude, but the night waned, and he sat upon the rock, and the man turned his attention from the heaven, and looked out upon the dreary rivers air, and upon the yellow, castly waters, and upon the pale legions of water lilies, and the man listened to the size of the water lilies, and to the murmur that came up from among them, and I lay close within my covert, and observe the actions of the man, and the man cremdled in the solitude, but the night waned, and he sat upon the rock, and then I went down into the recesses of the morass, and waded a far in among the wilderness of the lilies, and called unto the hippopotamai, which dwelt among the fens in the recesses of the morass, and the hippopotamai heard my call, and came, with the behemoth unto the foot of the rock, and roared loudly and fearfully beneath the moon, and I lay close within my covert, and observe the actions of the man, and the man cremdled in the solitude, but the night waned, and he sat upon the rock, then I cursed the elements with the curse of tumult, and a frightful tempest galled in the heaven where before there had been no wind, and the heaven became livid with the violence of the tempest, and the rain beat upon the head of the man, and the floods of the river came down, and the river was tormented into foam, and the water lily shrieked within their beds, and the forest crumbled before the wind, and the thunder rolled, and the lightning fell, and the rock rocked to its foundation, and I lay close within my covert, and observe the actions of the man, and the man cremdled in the solitude, but the night waned, and he sat upon the rock, then I grew angry, and cursed with the curse of silence, the river and the lilies, and the wind and the forest, and the heaven and the thunder, and the size of the water linies, and they became a curse, and were still, and the moon ceased to totter up on its pathway to heaven, and the thunder died away, and the lightning did not flash, and the clouds hung motionless, and the waters sunk to their level and remained, and the trees ceased to rock, and the water lilies sighed no more, and the murmur was heard no longer from among them, nor any shadow of sound throughout the vast, illimitable desert, and I looked upon the characters of the rock, and they were changed, and the characters were, silence, and my eyes fell upon the countenance of the man, and his countenance was a morn with terror, and hurriedly, he raised his head from his hand, and stood forth upon the rock and listened, but there was no voice throughout the vast, illimitable desert, and the characters upon the rock were silenced, and the man shuddered, and turned his face away, and fled a far off in haste, so that I beheld him no more.