"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."
No one knew who had admitted the old man. He was suddenly there, in the chimney corner, warming his hands before the glow of the Yule log. The guests were a little weary with singing and laughing. They had fallen on a silence disturbed only...
NOTHING could have been more neutral, more dull; the scene was the lecture hall of one of our most learned societies, as austere and grim a place as the cold mind and lifeless taste of Science could conceive, or anyhow did conceive and execute in...
Linley was fond of collecting what he called "raw material" and, as a fairly successful barrister, he had good opportunity for doing so. He despised novelists and romancists, yet one day he hoped to become one of these gentry himself, hence his collection of the...
She who had been Florence Flannery noted with a careless eye the stains of wet on the dusty stairs, and with a glance ill used to observance of domesticities looked up for damp or dripping ceilings. The dim-walled staircase revealed nothing but more dust, yet...
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...
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,...
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...
The light had been put out on the stairs. Usually, when he returned late to spend the night in his rooms, he found it burning. Now he had to make his way slowly, striking matches as he went up the old dingy enclosed stairs. It was...
Today, we feature another spooky story by Marjorie Bowen. When Maitland first saw the house the poppies were in full bloom; he had never before seen so many blooming together; the field was a sheet of scarlet flecked with green, right up to the hedge of...
First published in Help Yourself! Annual in 1936, here's another spooky story by Marjorie Bowen. RUDOLPH quarrelled fiercely with M. Dufours, the antique dealer, but in low tones so as not to be overheard in the street. "If you do not sell it to me—and cheaply—I shall...
