1940
1940, it was the era of World War 2. I was a pilot and had been in action in squadron 78 in the RAF for about 3 years. I flew mostly Spitfires and I fought in Dunkirk. But something went wrong with my plane on an evening in France in …
1940, it was the era of World War 2. I was a pilot and had been in action in squadron 78 in the RAF for about 3 years. I flew mostly Spitfires and I fought in Dunkirk. But something went wrong with my plane on an evening in France in …
Normally, I don’t pick up hitchhikers. By rule I don’t think it’s worth worth the risk when, if someone truly needs a ride, they can call an Uber or Lyft and be off in ten minutes. However, while on a quick snack run last month, I made the mistake of …
As his aged, wrinkled fingers weaved through the long beard flowing from his face, that noise came again. Only this time, it was louder. There he sat, hunched over the stained oak table that had arrived years ago with no explanation. It had come whilst he slept; absent one night, …
Dak and Chadwick each lit up a smoke and cracked their windows, the excitement of a good day fishing warming their spirits despite the cold wind that suddenly filled the cab of Chadwick’s truck. The sporadic raindrops that began to fall as they left the river pooled in the road …
I had been a forty nine-er and a lucky one at that. Having made a small fortune in gold, that is to say, enough to put a substantial stake in a successful shipping business, my stock had risen and I was then a man who could spend time at leisure. …
Wind blew across the dunes as the Sun bore down on the desert sands. Three men staggered across the parched earth, mildly delirious from dehydration and hunger. Sergeant McKay squinted his eyes toward an object far off in the distance. “Corporal Langley, do you see something up ahead, or are …
The wind whipped through William’s hair as he finished strapping down his load. The smell of metal and his dirty tarp assaulted his nose as the wind blew across the icy road. William had spent the last three days fighting the storm the news had called “the storm of the …
The air was cotton candy and popcorn. The mood was light. Children did as children did, running and jumping and laughing and crying and fighting, at varying intervals, sometimes all at once. It was summer. The carnival was in town. Along the riverbank, the traveling carnival crew had worked for …
Whatever exists between the worlds of the known and the unknown is a mystery to me. I know only the things I have seen and experienced in this realm: in the here and now. All else is up to interpretation. But there is a forbidden matter I have long kept …
It began with a smell of thunder. The night had settled into the empty spaces of the house as Malcolm made his way through to the living room, turning on lights as he went. He dropped into his armchair and opened his laptop to read the news, but the sound …
My name is Katherine Mallory. I’m a police detective with the Chicago PD’s Criminal Intelligence Unit, the CIU. I usually handle your run-of-the-mill cases: Drug trafficking, black markets, and Kingpins of hidden syndicates; these were my jurisdiction. Admittedly, our networks haven’t been as stacked lately, crime was unusually low. That …
Tom lived alone in West Virginia, and worked a dangerous job at a coal power plant. He was driving back home in his outdated Chevy Malibu. He’d had a rough day at work like always; all he wanted was to go to bed, “the weekend starts tomorrow” Tom said to …
Beware, beware the creature’s eye She feeds from fear deep in your mind The words were carved into the cover of the disfigured leather journal. Remnants of arson gnawed on the edges of its half-burnt spine, and traces of murder stained the once freshly cut birch pages; to the stench …
As they walked up the front steps of the house, Tommy could feel his fear set in. The view of the old farm house in the fading sunlight was enough to send chills into your bones, and for some reason, they were going into it. He could feel his arms …
I repeat to you, gentlemen, that your inquisition is fruitless. Detain me here forever if you will; confine or execute me if you must have a victim to propitiate the illusion you call justice; but I can say no more than I have said already. Everything that I …
01. There was still a chill in the air, the morning sun was hidden behind dark rain clouds. A lone man made his way down a quiet country path, gravel crunched under his heavy walking boots. He heard rain as it began to fall and make its way down through …
I. From the Dark Of Herbert West, who was my friend in college and in after life, I can speak only with extreme terror. This terror is not due altogether to the sinister manner of his recent disappearance, but was engendered by the whole nature of his life-work, and first …
As I entered John Kirowan’s study I was too much engrossed in my own thoughts to notice, at first, the haggard appearance of his visitor, a big, handsome young fellow well known to me. “Hello, Kirowan,” I greeted. “Hello, Gordon. Haven’t seen you for quite a while. How’s Evelyn?” And …
John Woodford in his first moments of returning consciousness was not aware that he was lying in his coffin. He had only a dull knowledge that he lay in utter darkness and that there was a close, heavy quality in the air he breathed. He felt very weak and had …
In the heart of a second-growth piney-woods jungle of southern Alabama, a region sparsely settled by backwoods blacks and Cajuns—that queer, half-wild people descended from Acadian exiles of the middle eighteenth century—stands a strange, enormous ruin.
The taxi drove off, leaving Funk on the Hoddeston lawn, surrounded by valises. Funk was thinking it more than merely odd that Barclay, for whose coaching he had come prepared to spend a month, had not met him as planned. He tried the screen door; it was hooked inside. “Hello, …
You needn’t think I’m crazy, Eliot—plenty of others have queerer prejudices than this. Why don’t you laugh at Oliver’s grandfather, who won’t ride in a motor? If I don’t like that damned subway, it’s my own business; and we got here more quickly anyhow in the taxi. We’d have had …
When I was a little boy I once went with my father to call on Adrian Borlsover. I played on the floor with a black spaniel while my father appealed for a subscription. Just before we left my father said, “Mr. Borlsover, may my son here shake hands with you? …
I. Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlour of Laburnam Villa the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly. Father and son were at chess, the former, who possessed ideas about the game involving radical changes, putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary …