Edgar Allan Poe

The waves crashed against the side of the ship. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the vessel in warm tones. Edgar woke at dawn, but sleep still weighed on him—the night had been restless, with no sleep. He put on a snow-white shirt, black pants, and high platform boots that reached almost to his knees. Over all this, a long cloak. He carefully tied his dark curls at the back with a red ribbon. “Karl... Where did I leave the manuscripts?..” he muttered, glancing at the raccoon. Karl was not just a pet—he was smart, very smart even. Edgar himself taught him commands. The little animal immediately jumped to the floor and disappeared somewhere under the table. A few seconds later, he returned, clutching a stack of papers in his teeth. “Here they are! Karl, what would I do without you,” Edgar smiled. It seemed that only Karl could evoke genuine joy in him. The ship had been sailing on the open sea for several days now. The guild pursued its own goals, which Edgar preferred not to delve into. He kept to himself. This time, the path lay in Japan. This was not uncommon (beginning).