How does someone fall in love with a particular kind of writing or an author who has long since departed from this life? What draws us to find in words the echoes of our own fears or longings? For those of us lucky enough to have a literary passion, the story of how we met our first love is probably just like tales of other first meetings—funny or quirky, full of accidents and coincidences. My literary passion is Edgar Allan Poe, and I met him—in print—when I was fourteen years old.

scene

The ________ was moody and solemn, but beautiful.

storm

I loved my grandmother, but I couldnt shake the sadness and anxiety I was feeling. The ________ had been a welcome diversion.

Ill

________ go find some batteries for the flashlights. "