Excerpt from “Red Wall”
Mark's favorite place to sit and contemplate his next story was in the room he'd designed himself. It was created to look everything like what he imagined Edgar Allan Poe's own writing office must have looked. With a large antique wood desk dominating the middle of the rough wood floor, towering bookcases behind where he sat that contained giant tomes of classic literature, he'd even installed real gas lanterns fed by propane tanks he kept in the hidden closet behind the door. All of this, and every item of furniture and decor, was purposefully installed and placed so as to inspire only those feelings and musings he was sure he needed to inspire each story. The raw, roughly hewn wood of the floor and furniture represented age, rustic strength, even the occasional sliver they injected into hand, foot, leg, or ass, was welcome discomfort. The writing chair was definitely not built for comfort, which suited Mark just fine. He knew that those that made up his subject matter were far from comforted with him as their deity so felt it only fair. One had to suffer to understand true suffering...
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