I feel him behind me before I hear him. He seems bigger than I remember, like a wall that has been built up right where I stand. I can’t breathe. The air is heavy, dank. With every inhale, it’s as if mold sits on my tongue.
There’s something very “Cask of Amontillado” about this place. I want nothing more than to get out.
And he lets me, but not without intimidation.
Grabbing my neck with an almost seductive force, he asks, “What are you looking for?”
“I thought I heard something.”
“No you didn’t.”
I almost believe him, but the knocking starts again as I climb the stairs.
Today’s tag is “Edgar Allan Poe,” a writer whose influence bleeds through my own work, and yet, I’ve only ever used his name as a tag for a book review.
Stay tuned for “F” tomorrow.