Of the long dead, who lived therein,
Paused by the cold hearth I felt the tendrils of hot sin,
Call of the bed, lover’s sigh made my head spin,
Head all aswirl, my mind lit in colors ablaze,
Will I survive this Christmas witch’s love haze?
Will I survive this Christmas witch’s love haze?
–CHRISTMAS WITCH
‘The transference of emotion is a phenomenon so common, so constantly witnessed, that mankind in general have long ceased to be conscious of its existence, as a thing worth our wonder or consideration, regarding it as being as natural and commonplace as the transference of things that act by the ascertained laws of matter. Nobody, for instance, is surprised, if, when the room is too hot, the opening of a window causes the cold fresh air of outside to be transferred into the room, and in the same way no one is surprised when into the same room, perhaps, which we will imagine as being peopled with dull and gloomy persons, there enters some one of fresh and sunny mind, who instantly brings into the stuffy mental atmosphere a change analogous to that of the opened windows.
–E.F. Benson (THE TERROR BY NIGHT)
“Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed! –tear up the planks! –here, here! –it is the beating of his hideous heart!”.’ –Edgar Allan Poe (The Tell-Tale Heart)
‘His name was Wandering Oscar, and he was a skeleton.’
–Stephen Sinclair (Wandering Oscar)
“Paul” I said, “you may as well tell me the whole story.”
–Robert A.W. Lowndes (CLARISSA)
The screams, that fourteenth night, continued until dawn. They were totally unlike any sounds in my experience. Impossible to believe they could be uttered and sustained by a human, yet they did not seem to be animal. I listened, there in the gloom, my hands balled into fists, and knew, suddenly, that one of two things must be true. Either someone or something was making these ghastly sounds, and Brother Christophorus was lying, or–I was going mad. Hearing-voices mad, climbing-walls and frothing mad. I’d have to find the answer: that I knew. And by myself.
–Charles Beaumont (THE HOWLING MAN)
“And then she died. How? I do not know. I no longer know; but one evening she came home wet, for it was raining heavily, and the next day she coughed, and she coughed for about a week, and took to her bed. What happened I do not remember now, but doctors came, wrote and went away. Medicines were brought, and some women made her drink them. Her hands were hot, her forehead was burning, and her eyes bright and sad. When I spoke to her, she answered me, but I do not remember what we said. I have forgotten everything, everything, everything! She died, and I very well remember her slight, feeble sigh. The nurse said: ‘Ah! and I understood, I understood!’
–Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant (Was It A Dream)
Dim, dubious, bat-like creatures seemed to be flitting to and fro between one of the stone vats and the group that toiled like sculptors, clothing the bony foot with a reddish plasm which they applied and moulded like so much clay. Gaspard thought, but was not certain later, that this plasm, which gleamed as if with mingled blood and fire, was being brought from the rosy-litten vat in vessels borne by the claws of the shadowy flying creatures. None of them, however, approached the other vat, whose wannish light was momently enfeebled, as if it were dying down. –Clark Ashton Smith (The Colossus of Ylourgne)
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
Intelligence without the soul to balance it must be of necessity evil—JOHN STEINBECK (The Affair at 7 Rue de M–)
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
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)
Jeffrey LeBlanc 