Author: Jeffrey LeBlanc

Horror is in my blood and in my bones! It's what we enjoy and what we live to for. I've taken my experiences and travels throughout Louisiana and remote places around the world to create novels and short stories of horror and the macabre. Many of the stories are original creations to sink your teeth into. But be warned. My characters bite back. Currently we have written four books and have four working drafts of horror novels and short story collections. Many, many more will follow. Titles: **The Devil of Black Bayou **Wings of the Seraph **Wolves, Wings, & Other Things **Shadows...Ghosts of the Moonlight Working Drafts: **Mary Wept (Homage to "The Exorcist", "William Wilson", and "The Shrine") **Lightning Bug **Wolf of Bluff Mountain **The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Again, welcome to our website! We hope you enjoy!
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“What do we know,” he had said, “of the world and the universe about us? Our means of receiving impressions are absurdly few, and our notions of surrounding objects infinitely narrow. We see things only as we are constructed to see them, and can gain no idea of their
absolute nature. With five feeble senses we pretend to comprehend the boundlessly complex
cosmos, yet other beings with a wider, stronger, or different range of senses might not only
see very differently the things we see, but might see and study whole worlds of matter, energy, and life which lie close at hand yet can never be detected with the senses we have. I have always believed that such strange, inaccessible worlds exist at our very elbows, and
now I believe I have found a way to break down the barriers. I am not joking. Within twenty-four hours that machine near the table will generate waves acting on unrecognized sense organs that exist in us as atrophied or rudimentary vestiges. Those waves will open up to us many vistas unknown to man, and several unknown to anything we consider organic life. We shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight. We shall see these things, and other things which no breathing creature has yet
seen. We shall overleap time, space, and dimensions, and without bodily motion peer to the bottom of creation.”–H.P. Lovecraft

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“What do we know,” he had said, “of the world and the universe about us? Our means of receiving impressions are absurdly few, and our notions of surrounding objects infinitely narrow. We see things only as we are constructed to see them, and can gain no idea of their absolute nature. With five feeble senses we pretend to comprehend the boundlessly complex cosmos, yet other beings with a wider, stronger, or different range of senses might not only see very differently the things we see, but might see and study whole worlds of matter, energy, and life which lie close at hand yet can never be detected with the senses we have. I have always believed that such strange, inaccessible worlds exist at our very elbows, and now I believe I have found a way to break down the barriers. I am not joking. Within twenty-four hours that machine near the table will generate waves acting on unrecognised sense-organs that exist in us as atrophied or rudimentary vestiges. Those waves will open up to us many vistas unknown to man, and several unknown to anything we consider organic life. We shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight. We shall see these things, and other things which no breathing creature has yet seen. We shall overleap time, space, and dimensions, and without bodily motion peer to the bottom of creation.”–HP Lovecraft

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“I wonder what he thought,
that wretched, unnamed boy
with his sieve under his arm
and his pockets bulging with
an odd conglomerate of sandy
tourist coins, what he thought
when he saw me lurching at
him like a blind conductor
stretching out his hands over
a lunatic orchestra, what he
thought as the last of the light
fell across my hands, red and
split and shining with their
burden of eyes, what he
thought when the hands made
that sudden, flailing gesture
in the air, just before his head
burst.
I know what I thought.
I thought I had peeked over
the rim of the universe and
into the fires of hell itself.”–Stephen King (I Am The Doorway)

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Originally posted on Jeffrey LeBlanc:
https://youtu.be/-FSZOwXBmKs https://rumble.com/vcnkyb-the-hound-by-h.-p.-lovecraft-narrated-by-jeffrey-leblanc.html?mref=591cd&mc=xnfv8 https://www.bitchute.com/video/Hkl1E0FRhtab/ Welcome ….to…. Dweller of the Dark! We are a channel honoring the yellowed and blackened bones of many prominent authors. We will be digging up several obscure, strange, and forgotten authors who influenced many of the great horror, science fiction, and fantasy writer’s today. Comment below if…

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In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and a faint, distant baying as of some gigantic hound. It is not dream—it is not, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. St. John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and such is my knowledge that I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall be mangled in the same way. Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch phantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation.–HP Lovecraft

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The creeping introduction of “Fane of the Black Pharaoh” as stated by Weird Tales says:
“Those eyes shone through the shadows; unwinking, unchanging, omniscient in this little world of the dead.”

But…Robert Bloch’s introduction brought more blood and fang:
“Terrible was the fame of Nephren-Ka, and more terrible still was the destiny that Captain Cartaret read on the walls of the red-litten underground corridors.”

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An owl on the branch of a decayed tree hooted dismally and was answered by another in the distance. Looking upward, I saw through a sudden rift in the clouds Aldebaran and the Hyades! In all this there was a hint of night — the lynx, the man with the torch, the owl. Yet I saw — I saw even the stars in absence of darkness. I saw, but was apparently not seen nor heard. Under what awful spell did I exist?–Ambrose Bierce