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welcome to my page sign my guestbook i will not accept your trade offers

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  On Christmas night, 1902, William Shelley broke a window and snuck⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀      into the basement of the Carlyle estate, where the unsold copies of⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀     The Books Of Terror and Longing were kept. He doused the entire room ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀      in kerosene. He walked outside, watched the moon and smoked⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  a cigarette, and, when finished, flicked the smoldering butt onto the ba-⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ sement floor. He then laid down upon the pile of unwanted paper, the⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ faith and desperation he had spent his entire life protecting, and waited,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀   motionless, for the fire to consume him.     ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀    He left a one-line suicide note on his desk, carefully placed on top of⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀   everything that was left of his writing. Attached to the small scrap of paper⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀   was a 50-pound note.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀      “I would be remiss,” he wrote, “if I did not include this month’s rent.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀   And being remiss is the one thing I can no longer tolerate." ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀