Old Horror Authors Novels & Stories

And are Dan Simmons books in your rich assortment of mysticism? — Our classics are on the second floor, on the outermost shelf, right next to the stairs. And Simmons... we need to look in the database. Leah headed in that direction, determined to leave today with at least a couple of collectible collections of works, including the short stories: The Dunwich Horror, The Call of Cthulhu, The Murders in the Rue Morgue, and A Premature Funeral. She read them more than once, learning them practically by heart. However, after the move, the number of her books decreased sharply and almost all the works of Alan Edgar Allan Poe and Howard Lovecraft were cut. On the one hand, those books had become di

In some cultures the dead were buried facedown to prevent them from finding their way out of their graves. The modern incarnation of vampire myth seems to have stemmed largely from Gothic European literature of the 18th and 19th centuries, about the time vampire hysteria was peaking in Europe. Vampiric figures appeared in 18th-century poetry, such as Heinrich August Ossenfelder’s “Der Vampyr” (1748), about a seemingly vampiric narrator who seduces an innocent maiden. Vampire poems began appearing in English about the turn of the 19th century, such as John Stagg’s “The Vampyre” (1810) and Lord Byron’s The Giaour (1813). The first prose vampire story published in English is believed to be John

She shrugged, a little awkwardly. I smiled back, wanting to put her at ease. “Thank you, Sie. I really appreciate it.” We flicked through some new books and papers while we waited for the pizza to arrive. They were all much the same – long, winding documentation of vampire sightings from the Victorian era, many of which were clearly allegories for something else, like impudent women or the fear of industrialisation.

“Castle. Vampires. Throne with issues.” “Vampires,” he echoed. “Right. Should’ve expected that.” He tilted his head. “You write horror?” I blinked. “What?” “You said ‘horror,’” he pointed out. “Unless you meant your life, in which case—relatable.” A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth. “Both, technically,” I said. “But yes. I… wrote horror. Online mostly. Short stories. Flash. Some longer stuff. Nobody important read them.” “Clearly somebody did,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the bus, the windows, the [KEY AUTHOR CANDIDATE: FLAGGED] that had flso long ago. “But hey, that’s metal. My mom hated scary movies; she’d have lost her mind over you.”

She walked to the whiteboard, picked up a marker, and wrote in large capital letters, the word IMMORTALITY. "I understand that next week you will be moving away from Shakespeare and jumping into Gothic horror literature ... just in time for Halloween." General interest spiked. Halloween was a favorite holiday for most students. Me? My life was already a nightmare. Who needed costumes when real monsters were already roaming our town? "By any chance, has anyone read The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde?" asked Mrs. Jackson. Students looked around at each other, but no one raised their hand. "How about Bram Stoker's Dracula?"

Those books were older than any of the others in his office. The bottom shelf (the one he’d been searching when he’d first heard the cats playing in the hall) held his collection of horror anthologies. The famed Whispers series, edited by Stuart David Schiff, featuring the varied works of Ramsey Campbell, Stephen King, Charles Grant and so many others. The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror from England. The Shivers series, published by Cemetery Dance. Masques, Borderlands, Shadows, Stalkers, Dark Forces, October Dreams I & II, Corpse Blossoms, Horror Library Volumes 1-5, and Prime Evil. Classic horror anthologies jammed next to paperback collections of slightly lesser repute with titles to mat

“A what? I haven’t got a clue.” “Imagine a patchwork of flesh from living supernatural creatures mixed into a disgusting mass. They’re created by rogue mages or even liches for fighting on the battlefield. There’s no way to explain them to someone not with our knowledge. Imploding them is better than leaving the mess behind. You try explaining it to the mundane authorities. If you know anything about the game, Dungeons and Dragons. They’re influenced a lot by the image of these creatures. The best description I can give you a mad scientist put together leftover bits and pieces from other test subjects. Placed tentacles and eyeballs. Too many claws and teeth. Often their teeth and claws deliv

“They were fishermen who had to come to Orsica because they were not catching any fish in their usual fishing areas. A sudden storm forced them to stay on the island and that was when they started seeing the strange things. According to my friend, the fishermen got hunted by the ember ghost and those who disappeared were never heard from again." Jon felt the hair at the back of his neck rise as he listened to the story. It sounded like something that is told over the campfire - untrue, yet still told just to scare people. Still, after what he thought he had seen and felt since he came to the island, he found himself a bit more susceptible to stories such as what the maid was telling. "That's

He was lying face down, and face up, all at once. I live in that house now. I am the village "fixer." And every night, I listen to the scratching beneath the floorboards. I don't fear the ones that crawl. I fear the ones that wait. Because now I know that the most terrifying thing in the world isn't death—it’s a corpse that refuses to close its eyes.

“He’s clearly got you on drugs or something.” “That’s ridiculous. I’m completely sober.” “Are you, Camille? I should give you a test or something.” He checked out the other books. More vampire romance? Where were the werewolves? He saw none. “Wrong,” Dire grumbled. Don’t worry. We’ll get her proper books. Maddox browsed more of the vampire books and realized that they all had the same author. Grace Moon. That was an interesting name.