I'm not in love with the modern world
#7
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She knew about both? He wondered how the wolves around these parts were so educated. Did their families teach them? Why? What was the use of learning how to read and write if you weren't going to use it? Edgar Allan Poe had reason to, because he was a poet and an author, but Ari had no reason. He was an artist, at best, and worthless, at worst. Her words made sense, though, but he decided it didn't matter. Whatever they mean, I don't know if I was really named after them or it was coincidence. My mother could care less. He paused, looking to his feet, before returning his clear gaze to Poe. I'd like to know, though. Maybe I can prove her wrong. It was a dangerous, treasonous idea. Trying to prove his mother false in any way would have been punishable at home, but here it was perfectly fine. He couldn't help but grin at the danger of it. I'd like to learn what you know.


To learn; what a rebellious thought! He hadn't been able to learn anything at home, and here others were offering him knowledge like it was simple. Knowledge incited thought, and thought produced unrest, and unrest beget rebellion. Still, the rebel hidden deep under months of repression was beginning to awaken in Ari, and so he stood ready to learn whatever this ghost Poe could teach him.

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