In the valley of Nis the accursed waning moon shines thinly, tearing a path for its light with feeble horns through the lethal foliage of a great upas-tree. And within the depths of the valley, where the light reaches not,…
Medusa’s Coil By H. P. Lovecraft for Zealia Bishop
I. The drive toward Cape Girardeau had been through unfamiliar country; and as the late afternoon light grew golden and half-dreamlike I realised that I must have directions if I expected to reach the town before night. I did not…
The Man of Stone By Hazel Heald with H. P. Lovecraft
Ben Hayden was always a stubborn chap, and once he had heard about those strange statues in the upper Adirondacks, nothing could keep him from going to see them. I had been his closest acquaintance for years, and our Damon…
The Lurking Fear By H. P. Lovecraft
I. The Shadow on the Chimney There was thunder in the air on the night I went to the deserted mansion atop Tempest Mountain to find the lurking fear. I was not alone, for foolhardiness was not then mixed with…
The Little Glass Bottle By H. P. Lovecraft
“Heave to, there’s something floating to the leeward” the speaker was a short stockily built man whose name was William Jones. he was the captain of a small cat boat in which he & a party of men were sailing…
The Last Test By H. P. Lovecraft with Adolphe de Castro
I. Few persons know the inside of the Clarendon story, or even that there is an inside not reached by the newspapers. It was a San Francisco sensation in the days before the fire, both because of the panic and…
In the Walls of Eryx By H. P. Lovecraft with Kenneth Sterling
Before I try to rest I will set down these notes in preparation for the report I must make. What I have found is so singular, and so contrary to all past experience and expectations, that it deserves a very…
In the Vault By H. P. Lovecraft
Dedicated to C. W. Smith,from whose suggestion the central situation is taken. There is nothing more absurd, as I view it, than that conventional association of the homely and the wholesome which seems to pervade the psychology of the multitude.…
Ibid By H. P. Lovecraft
(“. . . as Ibid says in his famous Lives of the Poets.” —From a student theme.) The erroneous idea that Ibid is the author of the Lives is so frequently met with, even among those pretending to a degree…
Hypnos by H. P. Lovecraft
“Apropos of sleep, that sinister adventure of all our nights, we may say that men go to bed daily with an audacity that would be incomprehensible if we did not know that it is the result of ignorance of the…
The Hound By H. P. Lovecraft
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…
The Horror in the Museum By H. P. Lovecraft for Hazel Heald
It was languid curiosity which first brought Stephen Jones to Rogers’ Museum. Someone had told him about the queer underground place in Southwark Street across the river, where waxen things so much more horrible than the worst effigies at Madame…