|
|
From the bottom of my tell-tale heart...
Though I embark on relating my tale in the aftermath of Edgar Allan Poe’s 167th death anniversary (October 7, 1849), it is not my intention to parlay parlance in emulating his masterful techniques of storytelling in the genre of horror, nor pilfering from any other celebrated author who has perfected the art of inducing spine-tingling chills.
As most of my short writing pieces are self-revelations categorized as Memoir or Blog, this submission is a rare exception, and, from my tell-tale heart, qualifies as horror. Not the horror associated with stepping gingerly over the threshold to evil in a haunted mansion. Not the horror correlated with narrowly escaping the clutches of an ogre. Not the horror linked with the build-up toward pending doom and demise.
But the horror of realization that hits hard when the walls you so painstakingly built to house a dream come crashing down around you for a premature burial.
The Facebook lockout!
Perfectly timed to coincide with the launch of my second novel. For years I maintained a personal account registered under my author name, but on October 2nd, five days before the 167th anniversary of Poe’s death, I got locked out because my name did not match the phone number paired with that account.
Without delving into my course of action to extricate myself from an entangling cobweb in a cyber chamber beset with secret panels and hidden agendas, it’s still a house of horror where I tread cautiously.
|
|
Web Site:
Eva's Facebook Page
|
|
|
|
|
Kwel… In a horrific sense. Oh, the horror of being locked out!
Ron