Christopher Lee - An adaptation of the original poem Annabel Lee, by Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom with lots of tea,
That a knight there lived whom you may know
By the name of Christopher Lee;
And this knight he lived with no other thought
Than to act in the movies we see.

I was a child and you were a child,
In a time that was full of glee,
For we loved with a love that was more than love—
The movies of Christopher Lee—
With a love that the other actors of Hollywood
Wanted to have from we.

And thus it was that amidst so much fuss,
In the kingdom with lots of tea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
Our beloved Christopher Lee;
So that his highborn kinsmen came
And bore him away from we,
To shut him up in a sepulchre
In the kingdom with lots of tea.

The actors, not half so happy in Hollywood,
Went envying our love for he—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this time not so full of glee)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing our Christopher Lee.

But his awesomenes was greater by far than the awesomeness
Of those who came before than he—
Of many more famous than he—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever our soul from the soul
Of the amazing Christopher Lee;

For the TV never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the Dracula of Christopher Lee;
And when stars start to rise, I feel the bright eyes
Of the Saruman of Christopher Lee;
And so, all the night, I lie down by a light
Watching a movie—a movie—in me telly (eating some jelly)—
With his memory that forever will be
In his movies, which we’ll never tire to see.

The Burnt Inquisitor is Born - WH 40K

It was during the most traumatic moment of my life that I had the mind-shattering experience of witnessing first-handedly those befouled powers of the Immaterium, my limbs froze and I couldn't express any reaction as I watched the poor quary of the witch being sucked dry of it's life-force in a profane ritual! The very space of reality bent in unnatural ways as the life-force ripped its way to the heretic, it was like a miriad of voices screaming from a faraway place - of which I wish no knowledge, Emperor protect me -, they made the most heinous cacophony of ecstasy and pain... the most soul-shattering sound I've ever had the misfortune to hear...I thought I was gonna lose my sanity as the poor victim bent in itself, becoming a mere husk of the living man it had been just an instant before, and through all that... the mad chuckles of the gluttonous witch gorging itself... 

Thank the Emperor deliverance arrived when it did, for I know not what would have become of my mind had I been forced to witness this foul dessecration of reality any longer... I heard a loud explosion as blood smeared the wall, all of a sudden the whole sorcery ceased, blessed reality was itself again as a large blast tore open the witches chest. As it fell I gazed the very face of Salvation, I had no mistake in that, even as the promethium-fuelled flamer burned my tortured flesh I could feel my spirit being uplifted towards the Emperor's salvation by his most gracious servants, the Adepta Sororitas. 

By the Emperor's will alone I survived the cleansing of this foul dungeon where I had been kept as fodder for arcane and unholy rituals. The flames might have seared my body, but my Spirit was strengthened and exalted by divine providence. I found my mission as my Soul was touched by the Emperor himself, I was to hunt down heresy in all its forms through the Imperium of Man, bringing his most holy Holyness wrath upon traitors and heretics alike, to cleanse all as I had once been cleansed, fire will purify the true of heart and extirpate the malodorous macule that has been infecting the Imperium for so long.