One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place. ― Emily Dickinson What does a madman’s mind look like from the inside? Does it look like an empty house with vandalized masonry, broken gates, cracked cement pathways […]
In the town of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, on December 8th, 2021, Buck W. Curwen was arrested on charges of grave robbing, kidnapping, breaking and entering, destruction of property, assault, double homicide, and resisting arrest. Upon pleading guilty to all charges, he gave the following testimony to the court. The ordeal began
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There’s something about the crunch of leaves under my boots that reminds me of death. Walking down an unlit path to get back to my house, I’m regaled with that feeling with every passing step as I travel through the park. A shortcut between my home and a friend’s Halloween
A Shadow in the Woods Read More »
I will assume that you have no knowledge of UK insolvency law. I would be surprised if you did. Most people think that when a company runs out of money it goes bankrupt, this is true from a terminology point of view but the formal procedures for corporate entities is
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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,
Room With No Windows Read More »
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
The City Forgotten Read More »
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
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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
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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,
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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
Nurnberg at the time was not so much exploited as it has been since then. Irving had not been playing Faust, and the very name of the old town was hardly known to the great bulk of the travelling public. My wife and I being in the second week of our
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?
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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
“Halloa! Below there!” When he heard a voice thus calling to him, he was standing at the door of his box, with a flag in his hand, furled round its short pole. One would have thought, considering the nature of the ground, that he could not have doubted from what
It was the design of Angelo Ricci and Joe Czanek and Manuel Silva to call on the Terrible Old Man. This old man dwells all alone in a very ancient house on Water Street near the sea, and is reputed to be both exceedingly rich and exceedingly feeble; which forms
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