The Squaw by Bram Stoker. [su_divider] The Squaw 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....
The Secret of the Growing Gold by Bram Stoker. [su_divider] The Secret of the Growing Gold When Margaret Delandre went to live at Brent's Rock the whole neighbourhood awoke to the pleasure of an entirely new scandal. Scandals in connection with either the Delandre family or the Brents...
The Judge's House by Bram Stoker. [su_divider] The Judge's House 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...
Dracula's Guest by Bram Stoker. [su_divider] Dracula's Guest When we started for our drive the sun was shining brightly on Munich, and the air was full of the joyousness of early summer. Just as we were about to depart, Herr Delbruck (the maitre d'hotel of the Quatre Saisons,...
A Dream of Red Hands by Bram Stoker, 1894. [su_divider] The first opinion given to me regarding Jacob Settle was a simple descriptive statement, 'He's a down-in-the-mouth chap': but I found that it embodied the thoughts and ideas of all his fellow-workmen. There was in the phrase...
The Premature Burial by Edgar Allan Poe. [su_divider] The Premature Burial THERE are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing, but which are too entirely horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction. These the mere romanticist must eschew, if he do not wish to offend or to...
The Man of the Crowd by Edgar Allan Poe. [su_divider] The Man of the Crowd It was well said of a certain German book that "er lasst sich nicht lesen"--it does not permit itself to be read. There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be...
The Black Cat by Edgar Allan Poe. [su_divider] The Black Cat FOR the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject...
Some Words with a Mummy by Edgar Allan Poe. [su_divider] Some Words with a Mummy THE symposium of the preceding evening had been a little too much for my nerves. I had a wretched headache, and was desperately drowsy. Instead of going out therefore to spend the evening...
Shadow by Edgar Allan Poe. [su_divider] Shadow YE who read are still among the living; but I who write shall have long since gone my way into the region of shadows. For indeed strange things shall happen, and secret things be known, and many centuries shall pass away,...