By E. F. Benson
'His physique used to be pressed opposed to the wall on the head of the mattress, and the face used to be a masks of agonised horror and fruitless entreaty. however the eyes have been already glazed in demise, and ahead of Francis may succeed in the mattress the physique had toppled over and lay inert and useless. at the same time he appeared, he heard a limping step pass down the passage outside.' E. F. Benson used to be a grasp of the ghost tale and now all his wealthy, innovative, spine-tingling and wonderfully written stories are offered jointly during this bumper assortment. the variety and diversity of those spooky narratives is way broader and extra adventurous than these of the other author of supernatural fiction. in the covers of this quantity you'll come upon revengeful spectres, vampires, homicidal spirits, vast spectral worms and slugs and different entities of anonymous dread. it is a vintage assortment that can't fail to appeal and kick back.
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Additional info for Night Terrors: The Ghost Stories of E. F. Benson
There was an almost frighteningly long silence, then she sobbed violently and collapsed against my chest. "My friend.... " I gently pushed her away from me. "I must leave. Don't regret anything, Florence, because I myself don't regret anything. May my destiny be fulfilled! " She bolted the door. " "In the river," I answered. " I had expected her to offer me the money I would need to go abroad and make a new life for myself. Things worked out quite differently. After spending a few days together in Ruggleton, we went to Doncaster and were married three weeks later.
I would not have spoken of it in these brief memoirs, which concern only myself, if I had not found a link between the shadowy street and the crimes that steep the town in blood every night. Over a hundred people have suddenly disappeared, a hundred others have been savagely murdered. I recently took a map of the town and drew on it the winding line that must represent Saint Beregonne's Lane, that incomprehensible street that overlaps our terrestrial world. I was horrify to see that all the crimes have been committed along that line.
According to his clerk, he vanished like a puff of smoke just as he was entering the room containing his stills. The seed merchant's wife was next, snatched away while she was in her sad garden. Her husband was found in his drying-room with his skull smashed. As I traced the fateful line on the map, my idea became a certainty. I can explain the victims' disappearance only by their passage into an unknown plane; as for the murders, they are easy for invisible beings. All the inhabitants of a house on Old Purse Street have disappeared.
Night Terrors: The Ghost Stories of E. F. Benson by E. F. Benson