Edgar Allan Poe

The father of horror stories

Perhaps no stories that struck closer the human soul than The mask of the red death, NO
pentaamines had ever been so fatal or so hideous, blood was its avatar and it seal the redness and hora
of blood and now it signaling the presence of the red death, he who had come like the a theft of the
night, and one by one drop like a rib less blood at the hall like a river and died each despairing posture of
this ,fall and darkness and decayand the red death in alienable dominion, over all! 1842

A consumption which was now known as tb, was responsible to the death of many people Poe
love, Edgar Allan Poes father had abandoned them, and when he wrote this poem he already lost his
mother and his younger brother henry due to tuberculosis, and only in his worst nightmare could he
ever imagined where the dreadful disease would be striking next.

Over the years Poe and his wife Virginia grew even closer her companionship sheltered him
through his literary life, Poe and Virginia interacted with each other, they would be sitting at the piano,
playing, laughing together, they would love to take some walks in a garden, talking, singing and coming
back in, and fix dinner together... always togetherso beautiful so in love ...

But one faithful night, in 1942, while watching his wife performed as she sing there was a slight
cough and a drop of blood appear on her lips, an Poe realized that night, that like his mother, like his
younger brother henry, that Virginia da a a consumption a tb, he knew at that time that the red death is
seating up the stage

In the midst of his private hell, Poe achieve his greatest public fame in 1945, in his poem The
Raven, audience flock to witness his masterpiece, his mysterious, dramatic rendition, its rhapsody
intense brilliancy, it was became the talk of the town very sensational it was very horrifying and yet
tragic.. that he kept us in tranced, 1845.

And yet the poem is a story of a poet trying to let go desperately, trying to move on... trying to
deny the tragic love he would soon be facing

Ah! distinctly I remember,

It was in the bleak December prophet still! If bird or devil!

And each separate dying ember By that heaven en above us

Wrought its ghost upon the floor By that god we bought the door

Eagerly I wished the morrow; Til the soul with sorrow

Vainly I had sought to borrow laden if

From the book surcease of sorrow With the distant eder4en,

Sorrow for the lost Lenore. it sa class forsaking maiden

For the rare and radiant maiden Whom the angels name Lenore

whom the angels name Lenore Class but rare and radiant maiden

nameless here, for evermore. Whom the angels name Lenore

prophet! said I thing of evil! Qouth the raven nevermore.

 The poem is a kind of rehearsal in his bereavement, the circumstances are too immediate that
he writes poem in another room of the house that his wife is dying each time I felt the agony of her
death I become insane with a long enable of horrible insanity, during her very spit of blood I drink, only
God knows how often, how much the pain, 1848.

And Poe helpless range and guilt, and finally defeat Poe never recover the loss of Virginia as he
entered the twilight world wandering out the land, and go to her grave all day and night, all hours crying
himself to sleep, and later in his last year of his life he would summon the strength to immortalized his
child bride Virginia in his poem Annabel Lee

Annabel Lee
I was a child and she was a child
In this kingdom by the sea
But we loved with a love that was more than
love
I and my Annabel lee
With a love that the winged seraphs
Of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that long ago
In this kingdom by the sea
A winf blow out og the clyde chilling my
beautiful Annabel lee
Yes tha was the reason all men know
In this kingdom by the sea
That the wind come out by the clyde by night
chilling..
Killing... my Annabel lee.
For the moon never beam
So thy bringing me dream
Of the beautiful annabel lee
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright
eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel lee
And so, all the night tide,
I lie down by the side of my darling..
My darling.. my life and my bride
And in supple girdle by the sea
In a doom, by the side
Sea.

Feel the pain man!