"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."
Perlipat's mother was the wife of a king--that is, a queen; and, in consequence, Perlipat, the moment she was born, was a princess by birth. The king was beside himself for joy as he saw his beautiful little daughter lying in her cradle; he danced...
Isabelle Crosland felt very depressed when the boat train drew into the vast London station. The gas lamps set at intervals down the platform did little more than reveal filth, fog and figures huddled in wraps and shawls. It was a mistake to arrive on...
Every December, I get the itch for two things: candlelit cosiness and the delicious shiver of a good ghost story. So this year the blog is hosting an Advent Calendar of spooky Christmas tales. From December 1st onward, a new short story will appear here each...
This is not a celebration. Every year, November 25th marks the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women, and it opens the door to the 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence, running until December 10, Human Rights Day. The campaign has a rhythm:...
As October draws to a close, so too does our month-long journey through haunted halls, spectral visions, and uneasy hearts. This Spooktober, we’ve celebrated a remarkable group of writers: Charlotte Riddell, Marjorie Bowen, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, Elizabeth Gaskell, Anna Katharine Green,...
We close the month as we started it: with Elizabeth Gaskell. The Open Door is possibly her most famous ghost story. Some people do not believe in ghosts. For that matter, some people do not believe in anything. There are persons who even affect incredulity concerning that...
It was a mystery to me, but not to the other doctors. They took, as was natural, the worst possible view of the matter, and accepted the only solution which the facts seem to warrant. But they are men, and I am a woman; besides,...
ELSIE was always lonely, but her desolation seemed more poignant when the day was sunny. Elsie lived with her grandmother in a large house at Hampstead. She thought that there could not be, anywhere, a house with more rooms, more stairs, more quiet and empty. There were...
When the rumours first began, I can't tell you. They must have had a beginning: but no one recollected when the beginning was. It was said that curious noises were heard in the neighbourhood of Sandstone Torr. One spoke of it, and another spoke of...
It stood on the left of the road as you went towards Alcester: a good-looking, red-brick house, not large, but very substantial. Everything about it was in trim order; from the emerald-green outer venetian window-blinds to the handsome iron entrance-gates between the enclosing palisades; and...
