HALLOWEEN CELEBRATION 2025–Day THREE: ‘Clarissa’ by Robert A.W. Lowndes
“Paul” I said, “you may as well tell me the whole story.”
–Robert A.W. Lowndes (CLARISSA)
“Paul” I said, “you may as well tell me the whole story.”
–Robert A.W. Lowndes (CLARISSA)
To feel alive with your terrified pulse pounding, to feel the warm embrace of love, to have your teeth chatter with fear, the stomach quivering nausea of dread, or the blinding throes of rage, is what I offer with this collection. These horror poems I share with you have blazed the flames brightly to inspire me to create the most ghastly of horror tales and the most powerful of rock songs to date. You’re going to know my soul crushing angst in ‘Blood in the Pouring Rain’ as I saved my father’s life. You’ll look over your shoulder a glance or two maybe with a tear hearing the haunting ‘Sarah the Eternal’. And maybe you will laugh and howl along with ‘Ghost on Christmas Mountain’ to lift your spirits.
#ghost #ghosts #ghoul #cougar #horrorcommunity #horrorauthor #book #horrorstory #horrorshorts #HWA #foresthorror #horrorstories #books #ambrosebierce #booktube #horrorstory #youtube #death #phantom #horror #mountainlion #horrorgram #instahorror #writingcommunity #ghostsbook #phantoms #horrorSEO #horrific #horrorontiktok #horrortok #horrorbooks #horrorcommunity #horrorwriting #creepy #mountainghost #supernatural ‘There is a point at which terror may turn to madness; and madness incites to action. With no definite […]
Apparently disembodied, or set in a face too vast for human cognizance, they burned before him in chaotic murk; Then, by degrees, he saw the other features of the sorcerer, and the details of a lurid scene; and became aware of his own situation.’
—Clark Ashton Smith (The Colossus of Ylourgne)
Old Masson, the caretaker of one of Salem’s oldest and most neglected cemeteries, had a feud with the rats.–Henry Kuttner (The Graveyard Rats)
“A blood-chilling narrative of a ghastly horror that stalked through the crypts beneath the old graveyard.”-WT
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
Terrifying poems to celebrate Halloween!!
“Slumber, watcher, till the spheres
Six and twenty thousand years
Have revolv’d, and I return
To the spot where now I burn.
Other stars anon shall rise
To the axis of the skies;
Stars that soothe and stars that bless
With a sweet forgetfulness:
Only when my round is o’er
Shall the past disturb thy door.”