THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, o so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its foca, guarnizione -- the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and...

As the trio of officers tore at the planks, they soon became acutely aware that più than just three lone people were working to get the body out- there was a fourth force, and this force was coming from the undersurface of the floor, where only the supposed corpse lay.
When they should have been seeing simply a hodge podge of gruesome pieces of an elderly man, they instead saw something far worse. They saw the stuff of nightmares as a zombie of sorts comprised of the shredded pieces jumped out at the men and quickly snapped their necks and threw them to the side- for they weren't his intended...

data With A Spider
(The Lost Story of Edgar Allan Poe)
In April of 1826, while enrolled in his first and only anno at the università of Virginia, Poe confided in his teacher, Professor Blaetterman, about his dire financial circumstances. Poe had been borrowing money from fellow students and friends, and had even tried to win più money through failed gambling.
Poe went on to say that he was now deeply in debt but wanted desperately to stay in school to pursue a formal education in literature. He told Blaetterman he wanted to be a writer and a poet, but that his guardian, John Allen, was pressuring...

FOR the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not - and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburthen my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events. In their consequences, these events have terrified - have tortured - have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have presented little...