A page in his notes

[Wilhelm A. Heizeltroff]

The storm outside rages and churns.

The fire within crackles and burns.

Still with each snap and crash,

The answer eludes like the spreading rash.

My anger grows and writhes,

Each test taken by the Reaper's scythe.

This latest failure the greatest of blunders,

My mind crushed by the doubt it's under.

Soon I will find the answer to this riddle,

Then my doubts will seem such a trivel.

Tomorrow my newest subject arrives,

His screams assuring that still he's alive.

Within the week I hope to be done,

I pray this man is truly the one.

If he survives and the experiment a success,

My place in history, and wealth, will be no guess.

[Roth Wyldmann]

Well, scientific progress must be made, yes? It is quite a foreboding and ominous poem.

[Sgt. Ian MacBrooke]

Ok Mr. Poe...just a little creepy there.