PSYCHELDELIC GIANT INSECT HORROR: ‘Mive’ by Carl Jacobi
Carling’s Marsh, some called it, but more often it was known by the name of MIVE. Strange name that–Mive. And it was a strange place. —Carl Jacobi (MIVE)
Carling’s Marsh, some called it, but more often it was known by the name of MIVE. Strange name that–Mive. And it was a strange place. —Carl Jacobi (MIVE)
Dweller of the Dark
2 days ago (edited)
Haunting your hearts real soon.
‘He went right over to the pool and crouched down on the rim in his white nightgown, and I heard his whispered voice calling, “Alannah! Alannah!” in hushed tones. And then suddenly a little rippling came on the water, a vapor
that was not there before.’—August Derleth
One of the most haunting ghost stories we’ve read in a while. Maybe since GHOST STORY by Peter Straub. #ghost #ghoststories #lovestory #ghoststory #horrorgram #horrorstory #love #Halloween
When the Horror passing speech
Hunted us along,
Each laid hold on each, and each
Found the other strong.
In the teeth of things forbid
And reason overthrown,
Helen stood by me, she did,
Helen all alone.
–Rudyard Kipling
Resting immortal amongst the asphodels,
Resting immortal amongst the asphodels,
Resting immortal in visions wonder-drowned,
In Lethean ecstasy starlit bound,
Ageless, lost, locked away from the cruel world,
Showered in golden magic and glory crowned.
–CHALICE
HIS voice came to us again. He said, at first, that he saw nothing in the abyss below him. Then he gasped, swayed, and almost lost his balance. We could see the sweat standing out on his brow and neck, soaking his blue shirt. There were things in the abyss, he said in hoarse tones, great shapes that were like blobs of utter blackness, yet which he knew to be alive. From the central masses of their beings he could see them shoot forth incredibly long, filamentine tentacles. They moved themselves forward and backward — horizontally, but could not move vertically, it seemed. They were, he thought, nothing but living shadows.
Robert A.W. Lowndes (THE ABYSS)
FOR THE SAKE OF THE DEAD AND THE WELFARE OF THE LIVING, LET THIS SEPULCHRE
REMAIN UNTOUCHED AND ITS OCCUPANT UNDISTURBED TILL THE COMING OF CHRIST.
IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE HOLY GHOST.
–F.G. Loring (The Tomb of Sarah)
A Greek god horror story to kill all HOPE. Really dark stuff.
‘The old man continued on his way to the sea, coming after a time upon two men who were digging a grave for a third who lay dead.
“It is a holy office to bury the dead,” he remarked.
“Aye,” said one of the men, “especially if you have slain him yourself and are hiding the evidence.”
–ROGER ZELAZNY (But Not The Herald)
From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this
sequestered glen has long been known by the name of SLEEPY HOLLOW, and its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys throughout all the neighboring country. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere.
–Washington Irving (The Legend of Sleepy Hollow)
In a few minutes I shall have to call the police, but I know that they will not believe me. –THE OTHER ONE
Bark at the Moon, scream as a madman,
Five decades have past golden father of the dark,
Voice pure fire, pure blues in metal desire,
Spilled your sins as easily as blood on black altar,
Kept it real growing the red army to stay,
Kept them hypocrites screamin’ the Devil’s at play.
–KING OF DARKNESS
Bats flying, flying in eternal night,
From the river to the cave,
To wheel against the twilight,
Singing songs of the witch’s slave,
Red eyes–blood red–screams in the night!
–SONG OF THE VAMPIRE BATS
JACKALS forgotten to the sands of time!!
A horror that was more than horror, a fear that was beyond fear, petrified all my faculties and I felt as if I was weighted down by some ineluctable and insupportable burden of nightmare. –Clark Ashton Smith (The Ninth Skeleton)
‘No. The face of a dark, remarkable-looking man, in black, with black hair and a grey moustache – a handsome man except for a reserved and secret air. Not a face she ever saw, or at all like a face she ever saw. Doing nothing in the dream but looking at her fixedly, out of darkness.’–CHARLES DICKENS (To Be Read At Dusk)
“I be as much ashamed as you be, I think,” said Mrs. Wise, and she leered at the pretty, shy-faced girl. Their eyes met and their eyes laughed at one another. –Arthur Machen (Witchcraft)