Poe Evermore

<p>We are going to write together. A story, a poem, whatever you prefer. I have the beginning of an idea festering. As I am sure you have as well.<br /> </p><p>Written by Jeff Whitehead.</p><p>CWS: Discussion of...

<p><br />My life changed irrevocably thereafter. At once, I was wayward, nearly purposeless, listless on a great ocean. The object of my youthful affection had been stolen from me, and I was cheated out of a future that...

<p><br /> </p><p><br />My life changed within a matter of days. John Allan had given me all that I had asked upon my foster mother's death. I am not sure as to why. Had he been curious about my true intentions, seeking...

<p>No, it was not a happy transition. The company moved quickly, and by Christmas of 1828, I was back where I had started less than two years hence. In Virginia. Not more than 100 miles from my foster family. And yet...

<p>Chapter 12: Berenice</p><p>I had a flagrant heart in my youth, one that was difficult to temper, and even more challenging to assuage completely. After our encounter in the cemetery, there was change. For me, it was...

<p>Chapter 11: The Pit and the Pendulum.</p><p>CW: Peril, references to historical slavery, period typical racism, references to historical religious persecution, rats.</p><p>Transcript: </p><p>Written by Jeff...

<p>The plan? We'll get to that. I was good to my word, and I dedicated myself to the notion that I could be a successful soldier. All the while, I would steal away in the night whenever I had leave the day hence to meet...

<p>I would not be denied. My sights were set, and as it does so often do when I fixate, the obsession drove me nearly mad. I developed an immediate disdain for Anna's father for pulling her away from me, and even my new...

<p> </p><p>I had spent so much time with death that I had almost forgotten what it was like to be alive. I was good to my word, and not just to Anna. I was noticed by my superior officers and before long, I was promoted...

<p>I have never confessed this, not aloud at least. In fact, I took great pains to conceal these early years, to bottle them up in extravagant lies of travel to Greece and Russia and elsewhere abroad. But now you know...

<p><br />If you would judge me for my habits, then our conversation is over. So look not with that sour face upon my tormented being. Instead, if you wish me to continue, wash away the notion that you have any idea what...

<p>Is it not there as it is here? Death creeping around every corner, always readying to strike, the eye of the beast abject and cruel? I know it must be, for your face tells all. My final venture to the Tamerlane was a...

<p> </p><p>The light is failing us, isn't it? And why shouldn't we linger in the dark by the light of this candle? Your question is an interesting one. As must be the case for you as well, inspiration comes from many...

<p>For as long ago as that was, it feels like yesterday. Such is the accordion of time. Push it in, and time passes in fleeting instants, pull it out and suddenly, years and decades are behind you. Every push and pull...

<p>Was it the Devil?</p><p>I told you, you may not like what you hear. But you've asked me to tell you about my life and my stories. And the truth is that memory causes the real and imagined to blend, metamorphosing...