Edgar Allan Poe Audiobook Novels & Stories

Susan 's POV: Startled by the vivid dream, I'm abruptly jolted awake. The dampness between my legs serves as a tangible reminder of how my body responds to these forbidden fantasies. I can't shake his face from my mind—those captivating eyes, those lips that brought both pleasures and torment to my senses. "This is sheer madness," I whisper in despair, seeking solace in reciting the Lord's prayer. Waking up repeatedly due to these haunting dreams has become exhausting, and I long for a reprieve.

Tumbling in a crashing, cascading waterfall ‘round corners, hurtling downward into sudden calm. The almost imperceptible rustle of shadows clinging to corners. And whispers on the delicate, fraying edges of dream. Voices mumbling. Low. Impossible to hear, to understand. but there, nonetheless. Syllables caught, sometimes, if she were to listen. Yet sleep called, those tattered edges skirted, exhaustion enveloping her. The whispers now words saying There is no book as Eidolon coaxed her from day into dream. ***

Julian slammed his hand onto the console. The world went Black. But in the darkness, a single, analog sound began to play. Hiss. Click. Whir. It was the 1977 Cassette Tape. And then, a new voice spoke—a voice that was deep, ancient, and sounded like it was coming from Inside your own head. "Chapter 146: The Reader’s Audit. Warning: By continuing to read, you are consenting to a Physical Transfer of Assets. Please check your pulse. Does it feel... Digital?"

Russell Samurai and Other Stories by William Meikle Stuck On You and Other Prime Cuts by Jasper Bark Poetry collections: WAR by Alessandro Manzetti and Marge Simon Brief Encounters with My Third Eye by Bruce Boston No Mercy: Dark Poems by Alessandro Manzetti Eden Underground: Poetry of Darkness by Alessandro Manzetti If you’ve ever thought of becoming an author, we’d also like to recommend these non-fiction titles: The Dead Stage: The Journey from Page to Stage by Dan Weatherer

I picture his hands, his body, and before I know it, I’m lost in the memory, my fingers moving faster as I give in to the moment. And then I hear it. "That’s it, little deer, move those fingers quicker." The words are low, almost like a groan. My eyes fly open in shock, and my heart stops. Did I just hear that? I hit the rewind button, replaying the last 20 seconds of the audiobook, but it’s not there. There’s no trace of those words. I replay it again, just to be sure, but still… nothing.

What price would the Book of Whispers extract from us? With measured steps, we approached the pedestal, our gazes locked on the ancient tome. As I reached out to touch its weathered pages, a surge of energy coursed through my fingertips, sending a jolt of anticipation through my veins. "The Book of Whispers holds the answers you seek," a disembodied voice echoed through the grove, its tone both soothing and enigmatic. "But to unlock its secrets, you must be willing to sacrifice a part of yourselves."

His voice was low and even and completely present and she lay with her eyes closed and listened to it and let it do what it did. She asked him to read to her in the later hours. The island novel was in her bag. She had finished it the previous night, which she had not told him. He found it and looked at the last page and understood immediately and set it aside and she heard the sound of him reaching into the bag again and the opening of another book, the novel she had packed as a second option, and he found the first page and he read. His reading voice was different from his speaking voice, slightly more open, as though the borrowed language gave him permission to inhabit a register he did n

The whole area lit up following the sound of the birds and the strong wind around. "We're dead." Hygge said while covering his eyes. No we're not. We are close Fika, wait for us. We quickly hid behind a rock when we heard unusual noises. "Morosis." Said Hygge as he stared with amazement at the morosis coming out of the bright portal. "The stupidest of stupidiest." I said while smirking.

Thousands of abandoned books rested upon the silent sand. Some were half-buried. Others lay open, their pages completely blank. The woman whispered, "These are all unfinished stories..." The First Reader nodded. "Every story abandoned by its Author eventually arrives here." Adrian stepped onto the cold sand. The moment his foot touched the shore... every abandoned book trembled. One by one... their pages began turning. Not by wind. By recognition. A faint whisper rose from every direction. "Author..." "Please..." "Finish us..." Thousands of voices.

It was actually her voice but it was coming from a part of a book that had already been destroyed. "The fourth copy is yours, Elara " the voice whispered from the darkness. "Now see what the author does with the changes." Before her flat eyes could close against the dark, the silver-leaf circuit along her ribs made one violent click, the primary grounding wire snapping its rivets to discharge its remaining five thousand volts straight through the center of her printed brain, locking her consciousness into a single, permanent image of a descending steel knife as the black jaws of the octavo-folder came together over her face for the final, definitive stroke.