Another clergyman in New England, Mr. Joseph Moody, of York, Maine, who died about eighty years since, made himself remarkable by the same eccentricity that is here related
The Witch by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
In a remote church hut during a fierce snowstorm, Savely Gykin, the sexton, suspects his young, attractive wife Raissa of being a witch who can control the weather to lure men to their dwelling.
THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH
THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH by Edgar Allen Poe The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, […]
Berenice by Edgar Allan Poe
Dicebant mihi sodales, si sepulchrum amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquar tulum fore levatas.—Ebn Zaiat.
Misery is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow,
The Judge’s House by Bram Stoker
The Judge’s House by Bram Stoker When the time for his examination drew near Malcolm Malcolmson made up his mind to go somewhere to read by himself. He feared the attractions of the seaside, and also he feared completely rural isolation, for of old he knew it charms, and so he determined to find some […]
The Phantom ‘Rickshaw by Rudyard Kipling
The Phantom ‘Rickshaw THE PHANTOM ‘RICKSHAW May no ill dreams disturb my rest, Nor Powers of Darkness me molest. —Evening Hymn. One of the few advantages that India has over England is a great Knowability. After five years’ service a man is directly or indirectly acquainted with the two or three hundred Civilians in his […]
My Own True Ghost Story by Rudyard Kipling
“My Own True Ghost Story” is a short story by Rudyard Kipling that blends elements of humor, suspense, and the supernatural. The story is narrated
William Wilson by Edgar Allan Poe
Let me call myself, for the present, William Wilson. The fair page now lying before me need not be sullied with my real appellation. This has been already
The Body Snatcher by Robert Louis Stevenson
Every night in the year, four of us sat in the small parlour of the George at Debenham—the undertaker, and the landlord, and Fettes, and myself.
The Bottle Imp by Robert Louis Stevenson
There was a man of the Island of Hawaii, whom I shall call Keawe; for the truth is, he still lives, and his name must be kept secret; but the place of his birth was not far from Honaunau, where the bones of Keawe the Great
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