Mr. Poe, late of The Bronx and Baltimore
Edgar Allan Poe died two days ago—in 1849. He was discovered October 3, 1849 by Mr. Joseph W. Walker, wandering, delirious, incomprehensible in the streets of Baltimore. He was taken to Washington Medical College, where his physician tightly controlled visitors, and where he died October 7.
Washing Medical College, Baltimore
During his time in hospital he never regained lucidity, but called out for “Reynolds” and uttered the plea “Lord, help my poor soul.” It has never been determined who Reynolds was or what motivated Poe’s plea for divine intervention.
His medical records disappeared and today are either destroyed or well hidden. His grave has been visited by mysterious visitors but has never been exhumed to reveal if he is, in fact, buried there, or what state his corpse is in. Rumors that his head was removed before burial lurk in the waterfront streets of Baltimore. The cause of his delirium has been speculated upon, but the truth has never been discovered.
The answer lies concealed in his short story The Black Cat. It has been speculated that Edgar Allan Poe was not the actual author of The Black Cat, and now we know what led to that conjecture.
The Black Cat, by Edgar Allan Poe?
With my discovery of a brittle manuscript entitled Poe’s Black Cats, the fog over Poe’s delirium and death and quiet burial is parting. And the confusion about the style incongruities of The Black Cat should soon disappear for Poe scholars.
Thought to be a descendent of the original Black Cat
Poe’s Black Cats reveals what has been sought in vain for 164 years: the true story of what happened in the early morning hours of October 3, 1849. How the manuscript of Poe’s Black Cats came into my hands, where it was discovered, and where it is now preserved I am not at liberty to divulge. The details of these secrets are recorded in my secret Last Will and Testament, which will be released upon my own demise.
I chose to publish Poe’s Black Cats in the gothic anthology Enter at Your Own Risk: Dark Muses, Spoken Silences for private reasons. Not even my editor, Dr. Alex Scully, the noted West Coast gothic expert, herself shrouded in undisclosed inscrutabilities, knew of these facts. I imagine her shock upon reading this.
The reader who acquires a copy of this book has my assurance that upon presentation to me, I will sign the first page of this tale using the blackest ink available to me. I owe that much to Mr. Poe’s memory.
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Thank you for reading. Anon.