TO MR. S.F. COVELL

Reading Allan Poe is weird

A “trip” a drug addict would say,

A “rush” a sky diver would agree

But nothing more strange

Or “intense” like what happened to me.

It was a January cold winter day

The wind outside was getting strong

The pitchy noise coming trough the glass doors

Was freezer cold

You see I was not alone

I was with Allan Poe.

While reading this classic

The sound of an old rusted metal door

Came from outside my back yard

Scary sound

No! It must be this brain of mine

Playing

 one of its tricks on me.

As I read the stories

The atmosphere was getting worse

The lights in the kitchen are flickering for a few seconds

The XM radio on my TV is gone

Only the blank screen is on

It reminded me about “Poltergeist”

Or the gothic recent movie “The Ring”

The damn squawk rusted noise

Still coming from outside

Now it sounds even closer

Afraid to see what it is I wait for a minute

And the light bulb over my head “pops,” is gone!

With no other alternative I opened the vertical beige blinds

To my surprise

In the patio on top of my favorite wood bench

Two urine color eyes are watching me

Or perhaps its own reflection

It couldn’t be, they must be watching me

The glass doors are not clean

Nobody in their right mind would clean them

With this freaking cold

But wait

Why?

This big starless night color crow

Is outside

Does he knows

I am reading Allan Poe’s.

More coffee is what I need

No sugar,

No cream,

Dark,

Strong,

Nasty,

Burning my throat Hot

Guatemalan coffee

To concentrated in my reading

To absorb the essence of his tales

That’s what I need.

Enough distractions

Four more stories I have to read

So, there I go to replace the light bulb

With the curiosity of a nine year old

And the morbid instinct of a teenager

I peek outside the doors

Now there are two midnight birds

Now four yellow amber eyes are watching me.

Should I stop reading?

Is this something normal?

Do this misunderstood creatures know that the author,

 The master,

The grandfather of suspense

I am reading, scared the hell out of us.

Ok then, where was I?

Oh! Yea

“THE TELL-TALE HEART”

That’s the next story I have to read

Should I go to my office instead?

No, I am in control here!

Even though my head is sweating, 

And my skinny legs are shaking like chop sticks

In a Latino man hands

While trying to eat rice

Or, Chop Tofu.

Why, is this is happening?

Is it the pressure of school?

Mounting upon on me like spiders on my shoulders

It should be the opposite,

But, there are supernatural events we can’t control

And the plot of our lives that we write

Are linked to people we don’t know

In any case the best thing is to relax,

Shit!

They are now six, midnight birds

They are in my eucalyptus 

Like black Christmas ornaments on the three

Like medieval musical notes in twisted musical scales

They are watching me.

I must go outside now!!!

I must get the water hose

To scare them away

Damn it!

I fell to the ground

I was in my freaking bed

Having a nightmare

I was dreaming about your class

Thanks a LOT

Mr. COVELL.