Piperka

Edgar Allan Poe was dead tired. It was the worst year of his life and he was exhausted. His wife Virginia died, his new book of poems sold poorly, and horrible dreams were driving him insane. In these nigtmares, Poe's wife would come to him, pale and decaying, pointing her bony finger at him accusingly. "Your fault. It's all-your-fault." the ghost shrieked. Poe awakened every morning in a cold sweat, praying he would never dream again. One cold, windy autumn night, he got his wish.