“The Raven took possession of the house, and the room became its beating heart. Residents came and went, never staying for long, frightened off by the powerful spirit of the house and convinced it was haunted. The house stayed that way for a hundred and fifty years. Then you came along.”
There was a mad gleam in his eye, and I sensed that he had crossed a line and would never return. He wasn’t Poe. He truly was the Raven.
“When you entered the room,” he said, “my spirit pounced. It inhabited you. It filled you up.”
“How did you do it?” I asked.
He smiled slyly. “I had the ingredients: a powerful spirit and the remains of a body. What I lacked was a spark. I got that from you. You brought me to life.”
“But how?” I asked. “With what?”
“Your anger,” he said.
Read more in my novel of mystery and horror, Room of Shadows.
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