Up in his room in the attic, he stared at the blank page before him. No words came to him. For three hours, the silence was broken only by the tinkling of the whiskey bottles he drank from. Then at the stroke of midnight, he began to write drunkenly.
His name was Edgar Allan Poe.
POSTED IN: Historical, Maricar
A Child Chosen
A Creative Journal
All Holiday Cafe
Babylune
Baking Delights
Blog Fabulous
Brew Ha-Ha
Busy Family Meals
Career and Kids
Chocolate Bytes
Cooking Gadgets
Dating Dames
Declutter It
Drinks after Dark
Foodie Obsessed
GenBetween
Hankering for Yarn
Inside Motherhood
Jewelry and Beading
Junk Creation
Keeping the Castle
Kettle and Cup
Kinsanity
Layers Upon Layers
Mad Cropper
Marriage Actually
Mom Gadget
Mother Earth's Garden
MyCrimeSpace
Noodles and Rice
Offbeat Homes
One Book Two Book
Our One Heart
Parenting Tweens & Teens
Parents Behaving Badly
Play Library
Quilting and Patchwork
Robust Cooking
She Knows Coupons
She Knows Parties
Simply Home Remedies
Simply Thrifty
Solo Mother
Supernanny Rules
Tangled Thread
The Doggy Blog
The Food Bowl
Thrifty Mommy
Toolbelt Tips
Tree Hugging Family
Unplugged Living
Widows Quest
0 opinions for Midnight Writer
No one has left a comment yet. You know what this means, right? You could be first!
Have an opinion? Leave a comment: