Night, black as pitch and filled with the wailing of a dead wind, sank like a shapeless specter into the oily waters of the Indian Ocean, leaving a great gray expanse of sullen sea, empty except for a solitary speck that rose and dropped in the long swell.–“Stragella” Hugh B. Cave
When Lazarus left the grave, where, for three days and three nights he had been under the enigmatical sway of death, and returned alive to his dwelling, for a long time no one noticed in him those sinister oddities, which, as time went on, made his very name a terror.
“Oh…dear…friend. I see that you’ve had a meltdown. Just remember this final lesson Rodney Hebert. The vilest of you…truly…are divine!”
