On a freezing night, with no shoes on her feet, the little match girl has a ghostly story to tell. Hopefully she won’t judge us all too monstrous…from the grave.–JL
A ghostly tale by moonlight!–JL
For a moment he stood stupefied by the power of the revelation, then ran with stumbling feet, making a half-circuit of the ruin. There, conspicuous in the light of the conflagration, lay the dead body of a woman—the white face turned upward, the hands thrown out and clutched full of grass, the clothing deranged, the long dark hair in tangles and full of clotted blood.
Tardy traveller, beware
Of that spectre gibbering there;
Close your eyes, and urge your steed
To the utmost of his speed;–
For beneath that cross, I ween,
Lies a Vampyre’s corpse obscene!
Stately, stoic is said of thee,
Wisest of the wise may he be…
Follow on children of horror by padded, clawed feet as we journey ever on into shadowed waterways, fog-foetid bayous, and amongst the darkness of decayed swamp without torch, flashlight, or candle flame with only lunar light to guide our way.
Those distant baying howls you hear are nothing to fear. And the growl circling you can’t be a w—, or can they? There’s no such thing of course.
I cannot reckon the number of hours I spent in gazing at the sunken city with its buildings, arches, statues, and bridges, and the colossal temple with its beauty and mystery. Though I knew that death was near, my curiosity was consuming; and I threw the searchlight’s beam about in eager quest.
It snatched beyond his reach at one fell swoop all that he most loved and enjoyed, destroying a thousand dreams, and painting the future a dull drab colour without hope. He was an idealist at heart, hating the sordid routine of the life he led as a business underling. His dreams were of the open air, of mountains, forests, and great plains, of the sea, and of the lonely
places of the world.
Yon shadowy bark hath been to that wreck,
And the dim blue fire that lights her deck
Doth play on as pale and livid a crew
As ever yet drank the churchyard dew!
Tonight we present a Christmas poem in the tradition of M.R. James and inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”. This one is dedicated to the love of my life, my wife Katina. The Owl By Jeffrey LeBlanc Once, long ago as midnight was creeping, I contemplating, powerless half sleeping, Falling upon ominous trail […]
Hans Christian Andersen was an author and prolific writer of plays, travelogues, novels, and poems. Andersen gained immortality though for his fairy tales. While considered a children’s author, Andersen’s stories express themes that transcend age and nationality. They claw into the dark heart of humanity and shine a light and lesson on malevolent deeds. Andersen’s […]
Dweller of the Dark Presents “The Sleeper” by Edgar Allan Poe A heart beats in a rat covered tomb, bells ring out from an abandoned church, a black cat screams in the shadows, and a raven screeches, “Nevermore” as we return to the ghostly grave of Edgar Allan Poe. Edgar Allan Poe, the master of […]
The master of terror and the macabre, Edgar Allan Poe was a writer, editor, and literary critic. He’s best known for his poetry and short stories. Poe is widely regarded as a central figure of Romanticism in the United States and of American literature, and he was one of the country’s earliest practitioners of the […]
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 you like. If you have authors that you’d like to see recognized list them […]
Jeffrey LeBlanc 