HALLOWEEN SLASHER HORROR: 🔪Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper🔪 by Robert Bloch 🩸🩸🩸🩸
‘Forget the John. Just call me, Jack.’—Robert Bloch (Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper)
‘Forget the John. Just call me, Jack.’—Robert Bloch (Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper)
‘Our first slide into the abyss itself, from the belt of foam above, had carried us a great distance down the slope; but our farther descent was by no means proportionate.’
–Edgar Allan Poe (A Descent into the Maelstrom)
‘Black shadows wavered on the walls as the two followed their silent host down a long, dark hall. The stocky, broad body of their guide seemed to grow and expand in the light of the small candle which he carried, throwing a long, grim shadow behind him. At a certain door he halted, indicating that they were to sleep there. –Robert E. Howard (Rattle of Bones)
I’ve broken the laws of man and God,
I’ve flung my gauntlet forth to the world.
I’ve turned from the ways that in youth I trod–
Yonder the Skull Flag flies unfurled.
–Robert E. Howard (A Buccaneer Speaks)
More horror to be released by the next blood moon!!!
Oh witchfire burn take this pain away
Lost in the swamp where shadows sway
My love gone where night holds sway
Dreams and nightmares blend to gray
–Jeffrey LeBlanc (Witchfire Burns on Belle Rouge)
He felt the cool air of the open sky on his cheeks,
and when he looked down, as they cleared the summit
of the dark-lying hills, he saw that Issidy had melted
away into himself and they had become one being.
And he knew then that his heart would never pain
him again on earth, or cause him to fear for any of his
beloved dreams. –Algernon Blackwood (The Dance of Death)
And waving in a dusky dragon light
Great moths whose wings unholy tapers char.
Red memory on memory, tier on tier, Builds up a tower, time and space to span;
Through world on world I rise, and sphere on sphere,
To star-shot gulfs of lunacy and fear— Black screaming ages never dreamed by man.’
–Robert E. Howard (Babel)
Here they were: the drunks and the sinners, the gambling men
and the grifters, the big-time spenders, the skirt chasers, and all
the jolly crew. They knew where they were going, of course, but
they didn’t seem to be particularly concerned at the moment.
The blinds were drawn on the windows, yet it was light inside,
and they were all sitting around and singing and passing the
bottle and laughing it up, telling their jokes and bragging their
brags, just the way Daddy used to sing about them in the old
song.
“Mighty nice traveling companions,” Martin said. “Why, I’ve
never seen such a pleasant bunch of people. I mean, they seem
to be really enjoying themselves!”
“Sorry,” the conductor told him. “I’m afraid things may not
be quite so enjoyable once we pull into that Depot Way Down
Yonder.”
–Robert Bloch (That Hell-Bound Train)
“Take the blood in my veins Madeline!” I ripped the sleeves of my shirt and opened my veins. “Take this heart in my chest! But live damn you. For the world is a darker place without you in it.”–Jeffrey LeBlanc (For the Love of a Phantom)
With blood rilling heavily upon their faces, with the somnolent, vigilant, implacable and eyeless Shape at their heels, herding them on, restraining them when they tottered at the brink, the three began their second descent of the road that went down forever to a night-bound Avernus. –Clark Ashton Smith (The Dweller in the Gulf)
‘And one by one we died and were lost in the dust of accumulated time. We knew the years as a passing of shadows, and death itself as the yielding of twilight unto night.’
–Clark Ashton Smith (From the Crypts of Memory)
hen I sank into the depths, and I heard the King in Yellow whispering to my soul: “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God!” –Robert W. Chambers (The King in Yellow)
“Of glass it is,” replied the man, sighing more heavily than ever; “but the glass of it was tempered in the flames of hell. An imp lives in it, and that is the shadow we behold there moving: or so I suppose. If any man buy this bottle the imp is at his command; all that he desires—love, fame, money, houses like this house, ay, or a city like this city—all are his at the word uttered. Napoleon had this bottle, and by it he grew to be the king of the world; but he sold it at the last, and fell. Captain Cook had this bottle, and by it he found his way to so many islands; but he, too, sold it, and was slain upon Hawaii. For, once it is sold, the power goes and the protection; and unless a man remain content with what he has, ill will befall him.”–Robert Louis Stevenson (The Bottle Imp)
‘The blackened face, the hideous form upon the bed, changing and melting before your eyes from woman to man, from man to beast, and from beast to worse than beast, all the strange horror that you witness, surprises me but little.’ –Arthur Machen (The Great God Pan–CHAPTER 8 The Fragments)