Step into the shadowy realm of "Poe's Nightmares," a mesmerizing collection of short stories and poetry penned by the enigmatic Lady Eckland. This anthology is a tribute to the master of the macabre, Edgar Allan Poe, whose spectral whisper resonates...
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Theodore slammed his mug down on the wooden table, sloshing ale over the sides. "I'm telling you, there's got to be something after we die!" he insisted, his voice strained and zealous.
His three friends exchanged dubious glances in the flickering firelight of the tavern.
"Come on, Theodore," said Walter slowly. "Don't you think if ghosts were real, we'd have seen some proof by now?"
Theodore shook his head. "Not if they only come out at night. Or if they stay hidden in cemeteries and tombs, away from the living."
"You've been reading too many penny dreadfuls," chuckled Henry. "Those are just fiction written to give people a fright."
"There's got to be something, I just know it," muttered Theodore obstinately. "We can't just vanish into nothingness when we die. Our souls have to go somewhere."
Walter leaned back in his creaky wooden chair. "And where exactly do you think they go?" he asked with an amused smile.
Theodore's eyes took on a feverish gleam in the firelight. "I don't know for sure. But I aim to find out."
Henry laughed nervously. "Find out? How could you possibly do that?"
"By spending the night in the old cemetery on the edge of town," declared Theodore. "Alone."
His friends fell quiet, the smiles slipping from their faces. Outside, the wind howled mournfully around the tavern's eaves.
"You can't be serious," said Walter finally.
"I am," insisted Theodore, his jaw set stubbornly. "It's the only way to know if there's something beyond death. If ghosts are real, that's where they'll be."
Henry shuddered, his ale forgotten on the table. "Grave robbing is illegal for a reason, Theodore. You should leave the dead to their rest. Nothing good can come of meddling with forces we don't understand."
But Theodore refused to be swayed. "Tonight is the night. All Hallows' Eve, when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest. This could be my only chance to uncover the truth."
He stood up from the table, nearly knocking over his chair in his enthusiasm. His friends watched him sadly, knowing there was no talking him out of it.
"At least wait till morning so we can go with you," implored Walter.
Theodore vehemently shook his head. "I must go alone tonight. Tomorrow the spirits will have retreated back to their realm."
He downed the last of his ale in one long swallow, as if steeling his nerves. Then he flung a few copper coins on the table to pay for his drink.
"This isn't a good idea," cautioned Henry as Theodore strode towards the tavern door.
Theodore paused, his hand on the latch. "I have to know what awaits us on the other side. Don't try to stop me."
And with that, he pushed out into the cold night air, the door slamming shut behind him with an air of grim finality. His friends could only hope they'd see him again in the morning.
