After my last post about fear, I happened to look around my office and realize that I have a shrine to Edgar Allan Poe right behind me. Above me there is a gargoyle that my husband made in pottery class and there are various ravens and gargoyles all around the office. I find them amusing in a way. But I do wonder about the fascination that people have with frightening stories (or horror films...not me...I hate to be startled). It seems that fear is a gripping and tantalizing thing to contemplate. Am I facing my fears when I read Poe? Am I wallowing in them? I don't know. But I love the little guy and feel kind of sorry for him too. I put in a quote above that I think might sum up the way he felt toward the end. I think it's a fairly late poem and it's called "For Annie." You should read it. Also, read Ligeia. I think it's probably his best story.