Edgar Allan Poe Audiobook Novels & Stories

He returned his attention to the bookshelf at the rear of his office, the one he’d been browsing when he’d first heard the strange sounds outside, only being made by the cats, after all. The top shelf held purely “literary works.” Poetry collections of Blake, Yeats, Robert Frost, and Shakespeare. Prose collections of Zora Neal Hurston, Hemingway, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Flannery O’Connor, and folktales collected by the Brothers Grimm. Novels, from The Man in the Iron Mask to Madame Bovary, to Villette and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, to A Passage to India by E. M. Forster.

I wasn’t even sure if he’d gotten everything settled with his frat brothers when he drove me to the airport in the morning. I tried to let those thoughts fade away while on my flight home. I put in my earbuds and decided to listen to one of the smutty werewolf audio books Hana has gotten me hooked on, Alpha Gray by CJ Primer, with Theo and Maddie as narrators. The book is HOT, and Theo’s voice… yeah, it makes for an enjoyable two-and-a-half-hour flight. I love how he changes his voice when speaking for each Alpha. Hana told me they’ve done the narration for the rest of the series, and I can’t wait to listen.

Many books were written in languages I didn't recognize. Poe watched me with a curious look, tilting his head in the way birds do. "I don't suppose you could tell me which ones I need?" I asked him, knowing better than to expect any sort of answer. He gave a caw and I heard a loud, hollow click over by the desk. Dad and I stared at each other for a moment, then I straightened and walked over to where I'd heard the sound. As I rounded the corner of the desk, I could see one of the wooden floor boards had popped out of place.

He immediately approached to help and asked in a whisper, "How are you? Did you learn anything new about it?" Raia looked around first before slowly arranging the books on the shelves. "For now, there's not much. But last night, I heard loud noises near the women's bathroom. I don't know who or what caused that sound, but when I went to the bathroom at night, I saw a human figure on the wall. I'm sure all the women were already asleep at that time, and I can't be wrong; that person was huge, no doubt. It could be a ghoul," he said flatly, without hesitation.

Alive. “Shh, little bird. I’ve got you,” he murmured, voice rough with something I’d never heard in it before—real fear for me. “You’re safe. I’m here. No one’s locking you anywhere.” I cried harder. Ugly, heaving sobs that shook my whole body. Tears soaked his shirt. My fingers fisted in the fabric like if I let go, the darkness would drag me back in. Every tremor in my chest, every broken whimper—I let him feel all of it. For the first time in years, I wasn’t Sweet Poison. I wasn’t the untouchable queen.

He barely took off his boots before he crossed the living room and opened the laptop that waited like a silent judge. The screen glowed dimly. SYNTHESIZED AUDIO: DEMODULATION COMPLETE Duration: 47 seconds His throat was dry as he sat down, hovering over the play button. Finally, he clicked it. The voice came on, clear and without distortion or hiding. “You’ll live.” “Rumors are made by cowards.” “Careful. You’re starting to sound curious.” Alex stared at the speaker as though it had personally betrayed him. It wasn’t anonymous anymore.

Deep within the encrypted sub-strata, buried under layers of Thomas’s logic, I found a file labeled simply: THE NURSERY RHYME. It wasn't a file of code. It was an audio recording, muffled and distorted by the crackle of a house on fire. "Ethan, if you're hearing this, it means you survived the fever," a woman's voice drifted through the room. It was soft, melodic, and filled with a desperate, heartbreaking tenderness. "Your father thinks he’s coded your soul, but he doesn't understand the nature of a mother's love. He thinks he’s built a Vessel. He doesn't know I’ve built a Poison."

"You're the real monster. Am I right? Didn't you assault that girl and blame it on Zack? Because of you, two innocent people lost their lives! Yet, you still feel no remorse!" Howard was bewildered. He never expected the truth to come to light one day. He knelt on the floor and prostrated himself in front of Gemma. "Gemma, we're sorry. Henry has changed! Since they're dead, let them remain dead. Can't we just live our lives?"

Started to melt, flowing up the Auditors arm like oil. CRACK. The white gold book broke in half. The pages did not fall. They turned into a cloud of dots that got sucked into my right eye and deleted. The Auditor stumbled back its coat falling apart the numbers on its fabric turning into nonsense. "The thing we were looking at... Is gone " the Auditor whispered, its line fading away. "The Bank... Says this place is a loss." With a sound the Auditor turned into a pile of harmless silver dust that covered the floor like frost.

An hour later, after searching for anything to help us within books that ranged from brand new to hundreds of years old, I huffed with disappointment and decided to stretch my legs; my pale finger trailed over the spines of books, dust painting my fingertip. Once I reached the poetry section, I smiled brightly. All around me were books from Silvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Emily Dickson, Robert Frost, and many others that were like my old friends. Taking a random book off the shelf, I flipped through its contents. "(...) Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home." ~ Tecumseh "You enjoy poetry too?" A familiar voice spoke behind me, making my heart speed up as I jumped slightly. Turn