Rachel stroke her fingers through her hair. “Oh my God. What have I done?” she mumbled agitated. “Think, Rachel, think” She looked around. Then she grabbed Gabe’s feet and dragged him to the farthest corner.
She ran to the stairs and went to the 부엌, 주방 where she searched the drawers for matches. In her panic she forgot she had been living here for about twenty years and the matches lay in the 초 drawer 다음 to the cupboard underneath the sink ever since. She pulled it open and grabbed the matches. Then she opened the fridge and took out a bottle of Malt Whisky. She ran back downstairs to the body. She opened the bottle of Malt and poured its content over the body. Then she stroke a match and let it fall down and watch how Gabe went up into flames.
As she watched him burn a sudden agony fulfilled her body and she dropped the bottle. She fell down on her knees and felt her body contracting and convulsing while she screamed.
She ran to the stairs and went to the 부엌, 주방 where she searched the drawers for matches. In her panic she forgot she had been living here for about twenty years and the matches lay in the 초 drawer 다음 to the cupboard underneath the sink ever since. She pulled it open and grabbed the matches. Then she opened the fridge and took out a bottle of Malt Whisky. She ran back downstairs to the body. She opened the bottle of Malt and poured its content over the body. Then she stroke a match and let it fall down and watch how Gabe went up into flames.
As she watched him burn a sudden agony fulfilled her body and she dropped the bottle. She fell down on her knees and felt her body contracting and convulsing while she screamed.
Title: To Helen [Poem of Youth]
Author: Edgar Allan Poe [More Titles 의해 Poe]
HELEN, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo ! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I me thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy-land !
-THE END-
Edgar Allan Poe's poem: To Helen [Poem of Youth]
Author: Edgar Allan Poe [More Titles 의해 Poe]
HELEN, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo ! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I me thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy-land !
-THE END-
Edgar Allan Poe's poem: To Helen [Poem of Youth]