*Cough, cough!*
Whattaya know. Looks like a moldy oldie from the innermost depths of Mephisto's dark collection. Put out by Scholastic (a fact I find amusing since being a child of the 90’s meant Scholastic was always associated with school book fairs and
Goosebumps) in 1969, this dusty little anthology is actually a rather decent gathering of some genre favorites and scribes of less renown.
Published right in the midst of the paperback horror anthology craze, this volume is the perfect book for those of you looking to pass those lazy afternoons with a few bloody good classics of terror literature...
"The Dunwich Horror" by H. P. Lovecraft
The Story: Many strange things occur in the domed, wild countryside of Dunwich, Massachusetts. Young albino Lavinia is suddenly impregnated with child, her sorcerous father Old Whatley only alluding to the father of the boy as something more than human in his correspondence with the town people. Wilbur, a goatish-looking brat, is delivered and matures at a supernatural rate. The villagers also begin to notice how Wilbur and his grandfather are constantly renovating their farmhouse and bringing cattle into the guarded shed, the animals never to emerge again from its stinking depths. After Wilbur is slain by the library watchdog at Miskatonic University attempting to obtain a copy of the Necronomicon, an invisible and abominable force breaks free from the Whatley place and begins terrorizing the populace of Dunwich. Dr. Henry Armitage must now find a way to stop the titanic beast from escaping the town of Dunwich and feasting on the blood of every last human on Earth...
The Scoop: To my memory there hasn’t been another Lovecraft tale that I’ve enjoyed as much as this one. Sacrilegous to say, perhaps, but I never got into his more fantasy-heavy stories (the history of alien races just doesn’t do it for me). Give me something grounded in at least a little bit of reality, with cursed grounds and ancient, forbidden texts and rampaging monsters sucking the blood out of degenerate villagefolk and Gothicism that only Lovecraft’s New England towns can pull off. THEN we’re talking.
"The Love Letter" by Jack Finney
The Story: Jake Belknap purchases an old Victorian desk from a pawn shop. Fiddling with it one night, Jake exposes a hidden drawer when he moves a hidden panel in one of the pigeonholes. Finding mostly yellowed, blank sheaves of paper, he notices an unmarked envelope containing a letter. Upon opening it, Jake reads the musings of a young woman named Helen who is speaking to an imaginary lover, an ideal man she wishes to meet instead of being cursed by her planned betrothal. Enchanted by Helen's pleas and the evening atmosphere, Jake uses the old paper and ink to compose a response, even going so far as to place one of his antique stamps on the envelope and dropping the letter at a Civil War-era post office in town. This innocent fancy soon becomes a supernatural correspondence across the ages that leads to a tender, haunting conclusion.
The Scoop: Is it really not all that terrifying? Yeah. A little sappy with its soap opera romance? Just a tad. Unworthy of being in this collection? Certainly not. It’s FINNEY, man. Just about everything I’ve read of his has always left me with the feeling that I was just sprinkled with magic dust. A plot like this could very easily have been reduced to chest-clenching, ham-fisted melodrama meant to excite bored housewives, but Finney isn’t hear to tell us about “the man who fell in love with a ghost” (gee wilikers, how neat!). He’s telling us about two people, both lonely in their own ways, separated by a void of centuries who find each other for the briefest moment only to slip through each other’s grasp. It’s haunting in every sense of the word. Try forgetting those few simple words left on the gravestone. Just try. Jake sure hasn’t been able to.
“W. S.” by L. P. Hartley
The Story: Novelist Walter Streeter is having a bit of a rough time with his writing. The sudden appearance of strange postcards signed “W. S.” only makes his life more perplexing. The short messages inscribed on each card seem very telling and probe into some of Streeter’s most hidden mental recesses. But the most disturbing aspect is the slightly vengeful tone of the postcards, and the pictures of landscapes and churches that reveal that the mailer is coming ever so closer to Streeter. Thinking back to his early days, Streeter recalls a rather nefarious character he created named William Stainsforth, a black soul who Walter had poured all of his loathing and hatred into. He senses that the physical personification of his character has come to hunt him down for all the literary wrongs Walter has done him…
The Scoop: As someone who spends a good chunk of time writing, I can always sympathize with stories that deal with scribes meeting the characters they have created. For aren’t the characters we create us, at least in part? William seems to be Walter’s Hyde, and he hasn’t taken kindly to the literary beating he’s gotten. With a fascinating concept as his foundation, Hartley expertly crafts the suspense from the get-go; the postcards are a delicious touch, each scenic landscape depicted on the postcards dripping with foreboding and insidious purposes. I have a feeling that I wouldn’t be in any better shape than Walter if some of my own villains decided to call on me.
“The Oblong Box" by Edgar Allan Poe
The Story: The narrator is due to board a voyage from Charleston, South Carolina to New York on the
Independence. When he engages his artist friend Cornelius Wyatt in conversation upon boarding, the artist is more moody and depressed than usual and his wife (whom he had previously bragged about), in addition to appearing rather plain, is of a vulgar and low-ranking character. The mystery surrounding Wyatt is especially highlighted by the presence of an odd oblong box that he keeps with him in his stateroom and whose contents remain unknown. The narrator cannot help but wonder about his friend’s sanity, especially when he hears Wyatt removing the lid of the box every night and gently weeping. When a raging storm soon puts the ship in danger of being overcome by the sea, the crew and passengers are forced to abandon the doomed vessel. The last delirious act of Wyatt finally reveals to the narrator the tragic story of the oblong box’s beautiful occupant…
The Scoop: Not Poe’s best, but that’s basically saying it’s a jolly good read. The story seemed to miss the fevered pitch of his more famous tales (probably due to the presence of a sane narrator) and is more akin to his subdued-in-comparison mysteries. Edgar still makes sure to give you your money’s worth by throwing in a few memorable images of funereal moodiness, namely Wyatt weeping in the sea-tossed shadows of his stateroom and then later being thrown about by tumultuous waves bearing his gruesome cargo that, not unlike Captain Ahab, proves to seal his briny fate.
“The Ape and the Mystery" by Gerald Kersh
The Story: The young and foolish Duke of Abruzzi is conversing with the learned painter and genius Leonardo da Vinci in his hall one evening. The Duke is not impressed one bit by Leonardo’s talk of rocks and brass pipes and constantly tries to liven the dull conversation. He begins to question Leonardo about his most famous portrait, the Mona Lisa, and the mysterious woman who sat for the historical painting. The Duke is perplexed by the strange beauty Madame Giocondo seems to hold over him. He is mostly puzzled by the small, enigmatic smile that is frozen upon her face, wondering why she must smile in such a peculiar way. As the Duke continually prods the old painter on, Leonardo reveals to his dense companion the true horror of just what was lying beyond the Mona Lisa’s lips and how it took a silly ape and a mellow canine to reveal the ugly truth…
The Scoop: Hmph. This one is a puzzler alright. There’s nothing really mystifying or frightening about this one, unless you have an overactive fear of poor hygiene. I imagine that this tale might have been chosen because of Kersh’s adept stringing-along of the reader as we (and the Duke) try to find out what all the fuss is about. What comes of it is a conclusion that, while not necessarily feeling like a slap in the face, can’t help but make one feel just a little cheated. And eager to buy some whitening strips.
"The Judge's House" by Bram Stoker
The Story: Malcolm Malcomson is a young student who decides to rent out the brooding and legendary Judge’s House to study for his examinations due to its desolation. Malcolm is told by the frightened housekeeper Mrs. Dempster the estate’s terrifying history. The house was built and lived in by an evil and cruel judge who not only dealt out the harshest of punishments but also delighted most in witnessing the gruesome hangings of the criminals he persecuted. Malcolm shrugs off the woman’s fears but, as he delves into his books that night, Malcolm hears the awful scurrying and scratching of millions of rats within the walls. An incredibly large and malevolent-looking vermin makes its presence known on the fireplace chair and proceeds to haunt and torment the student. With the discovery of the menacing portrait of the infamous judge, Malcolm begins to feel the burning of the eyes watching him until it all culminates in a night of horror and death…
The Scoop: I think that Mr. Stoker is more at home in the short form. Granted I’m only basing my judgment on a reading of two of his short tales (this and “The Squaw) and his most famous work, Dracula. But on that basing, I think more bite-sized tales are Stoker’s bag; he’s good at creating shuddery campfire tales that have nicely visceral “gross-out” moments like the teeming grave-scented rats from “The Judge’s House.” Dracula had bang-up moments like this too, but
as described at an earlier date, Dracula’s punch is softened by a simmering middle that takes up too much time with fairly uninteresting characters. All this rehashing is to say that if you’re looking for a solid haunted house story in the classic mold, “The Judge’s House” is a good, cozy place to visit.
“Thus I Refute Beelzy" by John Collier
The Story: Mrs. Carter and her friend Betty muse at Little Simon as he plays pretend in the house’s cluttered garden just as the tea bell rings. Big Simon returns from the dentist’s office and his wife expresses some concern for their son who always looks so drained and pale after his imaginative little games. After a bit of questioning from his father, the boy informs the adults of his playmate whom he calls Mr. Beelzy. Little Simon remains elusive as to just what his friend looks like and how he summons him for playtime, but his father becomes angered at the boy’s obstinate assertion that Beelzy is real. When Little Simon says that his friend will take the form of a ravenous lion to protect him, Big Simon brings his son upstairs for a good thrashing. Too bad he didn’t heed his son’s prophetic words…
The Scoop: A simple tale for simple tastes. By “simple” I don’t mean stupid, merely that it’s mission is a simplistic one and the execution is crisp, with a little flair thrown in for good measure. Collier is good at this type of thing, again basing this assertion on my limited experience with him (“The Chaser” and “Evening Primrose”), but in a collection that can grow fat with the arcane descriptions of Lovecraft and the oozing pestilence of Anthony Vercoe’s “Flies,” the reader needs a nice break from all the horror. I imagine a reading of this tale would go best with tea and biscuits, the last line undoubtedly causing the reader to dab at their mouth with a hand-woven napkin and emitting a soft chuckle of “Oh, how very droll!”
“Return of the Griffins” by A. E. Sandeling
The Story: Gunar Vries, the eloquent emissary from the country of S--, has just settled down into his hotel room after a meeting at the United Nations in New York when his bed is beset by a strange fit of shaking. The cause of the ruckus soon makes itself known: a noble griffin of ancient myth, all eagle-winged and lion-bodied. Gunar is a tad shocked by this visitation but he curiously asks the intelligent being of its presence. The griffin informs Gunar that his kind have come back to make themselves known to the world now at its most desperate time of need with threats of atomic war and depression. Stirred by the prophetic coming of these creatures, Gunar soon notifies his president of the griffin’s return and his plans to make the arrival known to the entire world. The trouble is, no one else seems to be able to see the monsters…
The Scoop: This one dips a toe a bit deeper into the fantasy pool. I’d imagine it’d be at home in an issue of John W. Campbell’s
Unknown, a publication that seemed to champion the theme of strange forces (both dark and magical) impinging on the hard, cold reality of our world. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it “lyrical,” but “Return of the Griffins” is certainly a touching story, if not a strange kind of beautiful. The slight humor that pans out with the Gunar noticing the griffins flying about the city and going into tailor shops (and the ensuing ignorance of everyone else to the creatures’ presence) doesn’t hurt either. I could go on about the main character’s “disillusionment with worldly matters” and his giving in to “flights of fancy,” but what would be the fun in that? Take a look for yourself.
“Flies” by Anthony Vercoe
The Story: A lonely tramp is wandering through the sickeningly warm and wet streets of London one stormy night. Desperately seeking shelter from the ravaging rain, the tramp spots a boarded up house with a “To Let” sign plastered upon it. He manages to break through a window and let himself in. The hobo is taken back by the sumptuously furnished rooms within, seemingly a relic from two hundred years prior. His fortune only increases with the sight of a delicious banquet set out on a table, not upset by the mysterious droning that reverberates from the walls. Entering a bed chamber, the tramp is terrified to see an open casket that exposes the rotted and blasphemous remains of a plague victim. Worse still, the carnivorous blowflies within the cadaver soon attack the tramp who just manages to escape their disgusting wrath. Realizing the fantastic truth that he’s been transported back to the time of the Great Plague, the tramp attempts to break free of the crawling denizens of the house before they can claim his flesh…
The Scoop: There seems to be a certain sub-type of weird tale whose aim is to make the reader's skin crawl, namely by including various creepy crawlies and describing them with words like "odorous" and "slime-crusted." Real gut-wrenchers like “Swamp Horror,” “The Vaults of Yoh-Vombis,” and even “The Snail Watcher” all come to mind. But whereas these classicks dealt with squirming invertebrates, Vercoe brings in those pesky symbols of death and rot. It’s simply a fun, icky read, and it even incorporates a time slip plot that doesn’t come off as forced at all. The prose here drips with putrescence, and if that ain’t your bag I suggest you move on. But if it is, take a long, maggoty chew out of this one and enjoy.
“The Shed” by E. Everett Evans
The Story: Hutch, Cuddy, and Stub are three adventurous boys living through a blisteringly hot summer in Michigan of 1901. The only detriment to their fun-filled time is an enigmatic Shadow that crouches in the corner of a nearby shed. Nearly everyone in town knows of it, but few know of what it could possibly be and just what it wants. The grim purpose of the shadow creature becomes apparent when Hutch’s beloved dog Sam goes missing. his leads Hutch to discover Sam’s name tag just outside of the Shadow’s dark reach. Things only get worse when a little girl’s pet cat and a local daredevil also fall prey to the Shadow’s flesh-hungry wake. As the black creature begins to take definite shape and gain life with each feeding, the boys formulate a plan to stop the monster’s progress by retrieving a sickly cow from the local slaughterhouse...
The Scoop: Meh. Not dreadful, but certainly not something I’d call an enthralling read either. On the surface the story seems to be fine and the execution is harmless enough, Evans composing in a direct but slightly plain style. I guess my vague sense of dissatisfaction comes down to personal tastes. I’m not too hot for stories that feature kids as protagonists, and unless you’re a King or a Bradbury my opinion won’t likely change. Add to that the lack of a genuine, imposing threat (which is something I’m finding out I really dig in my horror stories) and I’m left slightly fizzled.* I’d like to know what others think if they ever come across this tale.
*Not that human-eating shadows
don’t pose a real danger, it’s just more in the way everyone in the town deals with it. Once folks catch on that the Shed Thing has a hankering for flesh, the adults treat the shed with more of “Don’t go near there—it’s dangerous” attitude than a “Kill it! Kill it with fire!” mob mentality. Perhaps this is playing to the humdrum, simple living of small-town America, but not an entertaining story does it make.
“The Mistake” by Fielden Hughes
The Story: The Medical Superintendent at Applesett Private Medical Hospital recounts the tale of a certain patient that was under his care. After the patient dies, the doctor opens a manuscript addressed to him specifically to be read after the man's death. The man had been a vicar at St. Alpha’s Church whose his cruel warden was Admiral Sir Anthony Vilpert, a despicable old coot whom the vicar dubbed “the White Goat” on account of his long, snowy beard and bleating voice. The vicar’s unholy prayers are granted when Vilpert finally dies one day. On the day of the funeral, the vicar is disturbed when he hears a small tapping from within the casket and entertains the notion that the fate of “the White Goat” now rests in his hands. However he does nothing to report the noise he heard and the coffin is buried. Haunted by the thought of the old man, the vicar enters the churchyard late one night and unearths a terrible sight that ruins his soul for years to come…
The Scoop: I’ve seen this story reprinted elsewhere and it’s a pretty good standard chiller that ends on a solid Poe-esque note. There’s really not much to say about it due to its abbreviated length; in fact, the mental hospital filler in the beginning could have probably been taken out altogether, but then we wouldn’t have gotten the neat detail that the poor vicar never slept another day in his life after the incident in the cemetery. It’s a sweet, haunting little picture, and if Hughes was successful, maybe you’ll find it difficult to sleep, too. Especially on your side.
Jose's Top Picks
"The Dunwich Horror" by H. P. Lovecraft
"W. S. " by L. P. Hartley
"The Judge's House" by Bram Stoker
"Return of the Griffins" by A. E. Sandeling
"Flies" by Anthony Vercoe
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