Text.

[impossibly]

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And

Comments

[ Voice ]

[knows_it_all]

That's...ominous.

[ He wonders if this has anything to do with the brothel incident? ]

[ Voice ]

[impossibly]

Not every story has a happy ending.

[ Voice ]

[knows_it_all]

Guess this isn't one of the ones you can rewrite either, huh?

[ Voice ]

[impossibly]

If I see a child die, but you read that it lived, which is true?

[ Voice ]

[knows_it_all]

Not quite...what I meant. But I see your point.

[ Sadly. ]

Hey, uh, is this about...

...

[ Sounds of shuffling before he switches over to more secure, Private connection. ]

...Sorry about that. My name's Kunsel, by the way.

So, what you were saying, is it in reference to [ the blood, the carnage, the mayhem ] what happened at the brothel?

[ Voice | Private ]

[impossibly]

It was written in another world, hundreds of years ago.

[ Voice | Private ]

[knows_it_all]

...Oh. Well, something brought it to mind, right?

[ But maybe she doesn't want to talk about that? Not a pleasant topic, after all. ]

Never mind. It's probably... [ inappropriate of me to ask you ] ...er. So. Who wrote it, then? Hundreds of years is a long time!

...........Did you memorize all that? Word for word?

[ Voice | Private ]

[impossibly]

It all just floats around inside. Mr Edgar Allen Poe dreamt the words, though the plague was real enough.