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The Empty House and Other Ghost Stories - Ultimate Horror Classics Collection From one of the most prolific writers of ghost stories, known for The Willows, The Wendigo, Jimbo, The Human Chord, The Education of Uncle Paul, John Silence, The Listener and Other Stories... von Blackwood, Algernon (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 28.08.2015
  • Verlag: e-artnow
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The Empty House and Other Ghost Stories - Ultimate Horror Classics Collection

This carefully crafted ebook: 'The Empty House and Other Ghost Stories - Ultimate Horror Classics Collection' is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents. Algernon Blackwood (1869-1951) was an English short story writer and novelist, one of the most prolific writers of ghost stories in the history of the genre. Blackwood wrote a number of horror stories. His most work seeks less to frighten than to induce a sense of awe. Table of Contents: The Empty House A Haunted Island A Case of Eavesdropping Keeping His Promise With Intent to Steal The Wood of the Dead Smith: An Episode in a Lodging-House A Suspicious Gift The Strange Adventures of a Private Secretary in New York Skeleton Lake: An Episode in Camp

Produktinformationen

    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: watermark
    Seitenzahl: 200
    Erscheinungsdatum: 28.08.2015
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9788026843627
    Verlag: e-artnow
    Größe: 457 kBytes
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The Empty House and Other Ghost Stories - Ultimate Horror Classics Collection

A HAUNTED ISLAND

Table of Contents
The following events occurred on a small island of isolated position in a large Canadian lake, to whose cool waters the inhabitants of Montreal and Toronto flee for rest and recreation in the hot months. It is only to be regretted that events of such peculiar interest to the genuine student of the psychical should be entirely uncorroborated. Such unfortunately, however, is the case.

Our own party of nearly twenty had returned to Montreal that very day, and I was left in solitary possession for a week or two longer, in order to accomplish some important "reading" for the law which I had foolishly neglected during the summer.

It was late in September, and the big trout and maskinonge were stirring themselves in the depths of the lake, and beginning slowly to move up to the surface waters as the north winds and early frosts lowered their temperature. Already the maples were crimson and gold, and the wild laughter of the loons echoed in sheltered bays that never knew their strange cry in the summer.

With a whole island to oneself, a two-storey cottage, a canoe, and only the chipmunks, and the farmer's weekly visit with eggs and bread, to disturb one, the opportunities for hard reading might be very great. It all depends!

The rest of the party had gone off with many warnings to beware of Indians, and not to stay late enough to be the victim of a frost that thinks nothing of forty below zero. After they had gone, the loneliness of the situation made itself unpleasantly felt. There were no other islands within six or seven miles, and though the mainland forests lay a couple of miles behind me, they stretched for a very great distance unbroken by any signs of human habitation. But, though the island was completely deserted and silent, the rocks and trees that had echoed human laughter and voices almost every hour of the day for two months could not fail to retain some memories of it all; and I was not surprised to fancy I heard a shout or a cry as I passed from rock to rock, and more than once to imagine that I heard my own name called aloud.

In the cottage there were six tiny little bedrooms divided from one another by plain unvarnished partitions of pine. A wooden bedstead, a mattress, and a chair, stood in each room, but I only found two mirrors, and one of these was broken.

The boards creaked a good deal as I moved about, and the signs of occupation were so recent that I could hardly believe I was alone. I half expected to find someone left behind, still trying to crowd into a box more than it would hold. The door of one room was stiff, and refused for a moment to open, and it required very little persuasion to imagine someone was holding the handle on the inside, and that when it opened I should meet a pair of human eyes.

A thorough search of the floor led me to select as my own sleeping quarters a little room with a diminutive balcony over the verandah roof. The room was very small, but the bed was large, and had the best mattress of them all. It was situated directly over the sitting-room where I should live and do my "reading," and the miniature window looked out to the rising sun. With the exception of a narrow path which led from the front door and verandah through the trees to the boat-landing, the island was densely covered with maples, hemlocks, and cedars. The trees gathered in round the cottage so closely that the slightest wind made the branches scrape the roof and tap the wooden walls. A few moments after sunset the darkness became impenetrable, and ten yards beyond the glare of the lamps that shone through the sitting-room windows-of which there were four-you could not see an inch before your nose, nor move a step without running up against a tree.

The rest of that day I spent moving my belongings from my tent to the sitting-room, taking stock of the contents of the larder, a

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