GHOST MADNESS: ‘What Is It?’ by Charles M. Morrison
It is a nameless thing that I fear. –Charles M. Morrison (What Is It?)
It is a nameless thing that I fear. –Charles M. Morrison (What Is It?)
‘He joined her.’ –E.F. Benson (The Terror by Night)
I am still alive! I am still alive!
But I am not the same
You can see the truth
Oh, immortal soul no one is to blame
Fate has played its part
In matters of the heart
— Jeffrey LeBlanc (For the Love of a Phantom)
“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)
#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 […]
#halloween #halloween2023 #books #horrorstories #death #horror #booktube #farnsworthwright ‘The wind howled until the house quaked; it shrilled past the eaves and fled across the fields like a hunted ghost. And now the girl’s pounding pulses drowned out the screaming of the wind, for the presence had invaded her bedroom!’ — Farnsworth Wright (The Closing Hand) […]
#halloween #halloween2023 #horrorstories #booktube #authortube #weirdtales #skeleton #lake ‘Stumbling from the mountains with winds screaming against me, Wet window-panes, and ghoulish hinges, greeted defiantly, Faux bravery secured my soul inside laughing a cowardice jest. But the wind shrieked admittance with an evil, torturous request.’ —Jeffrey LeBlanc (Phantoms of Skeleton Lake) https://youtube.com/@dwellerofthedark?sub_confirmation=1 https://youtube.com/shorts/gaZAcayE96s?feature=share https://youtu.be/3UjTY8cLLPc https://youtube.com/shorts/z48NBlWR2uk?feature=share https://youtube.com/shorts/yQkChZJGTK4?feature=share […]
“The mountains towered to the ghostly moon
Celestial stars shimmered brilliantly in the sky
As the bats tittered, and twisted, twisted
Across the mountains and the forest upon high
Winding and weaving through the vastness of night
They sang a devilish tale flying by.”
—Jeffrey LeBlanc (Wings of the Night)
Warm my hand lives, in the moment kind and caring
But reaching for you now, can I do so, deathly chill
For I lie beneath hallowed grave ground,
Long shall I haunt your days, and ice your spine on ghostly nights
When you plead to the Angel of Death to reap your wicked soul
My heart will beat, and the worm removes fanged lips as my life roars again,
I give you mercy—a conscience cleared; a burden lifted—reach for my chilled grasp—
My withered fingers rest on your shoulder.
—Jeffrey LeBlanc (Cold Hand)
The Sea Witch
Part One
I
The night winds were a torrent of darkness amongst the sea and foam,
The coppery moon heaved as a haunted galleon upon golden waves to roam,
The beach trail weaved as a moonlit strand over the skull-white dunes,
And the Sea Witch came gliding—
Gliding—gliding—
The Sea Witch came gliding, up to the druid runes.—Jeffrey LeBlanc (The Sea Witch)
When Lazarus rose from the grave, after three days and nights in the mysterious thraldom of death, and returned alive to his home, it was a long time before anyone noticed the evil peculiarities in him that were later to make his very name terrible. His friends and relatives were jubilant that he had come back to life. They surrounded him with tenderness, they were lavish of their eager attentions, spending the greatest care upon his food and drink and the new garments they made for him. They clad him gorgeously in the glowing colors of hope and laughter, and when, arrayed like a bridegroom, he sat at table with them again, ate again, and drank again, they wept fondly and summoned the neighbours to look upon the man miraculously raised from the dead.—Leonid Andreyev (Lazarus)
“She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmastree. It was larger and more beautifully decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchant’s. Thousands of tapers were burning upon the green branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the show-windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her hand towards them, and the match went out.”—Hans Christian Andersen (The Little Match Girl)
“Come home, my lost child!
Embrace the rivers and the wild
Dance with dwarves, hand in hand,
Forget the human world of weeping,
A painful land you will never understand.”
—Jeffrey LeBlanc (The Lost Child)
It floated in–slowly, slowly, as a mist of early morning might enter one’s casement or a wisp of smoke, wafted in on a stray breeze—unsubstantial, filmy, yet seeming to have the substance of flesh and blood. —Francis Marion Palmer (The Thing)