23 Jan Chasm
My name is Russell Green. At dawn on the morning of June 14 of this year I set off in a rented boat to a spot eleven miles north of Oymur on Russia’s Lake Baikal. My destination was informally called the Pit of Night. Three...
My name is Russell Green. At dawn on the morning of June 14 of this year I set off in a rented boat to a spot eleven miles north of Oymur on Russia’s Lake Baikal. My destination was informally called the Pit of Night. Three...
John Woodford in his first moments of returning consciousness was not aware that he was lying in his coffin. He had only a dull knowledge that he lay in utter darkness and that there was a close, heavy quality in the air he breathed. He...
Day had broken cold and grey, exceedingly cold and grey, when the man turned aside from the main Yukon trail and climbed the high earth-bank, where a dim and little-traveled trail led eastward through the fat spruce timberland. It was a steep bank, and he...
My name is Kenneth Vilma. December 17, 2010, marked the third day of my escape from Grovenor Penitentiary in Crystalis, Michigan, and my second day in the Wolf Paw State Forest with another convict, Ron Heil. We’d been on the run since paying off two...
PHENISTONE ROAD, CLAPHAM, August 20th, 19—. I have had what I believe to be the most remarkable day in my life, and while the events are still fresh in my mind, I wish to put them down on paper as clearly as possible. Let me say at the...
My name is Aramis Churchton. On December 14, 2004, I came to the town of Belconsin, Maryland, in order to spend a night in a tenantless house on a quiet road. It was a three-hour drive from the western part of the state, and I...
West of Arkham the hills rise wild, and there are valleys with deep woods that no axe has ever cut. There are dark narrow glens where the trees slope fantastically, and where thin brooklets trickle without ever having caught the glint of sunlight. On the...
I am writing this under an appreciable mental strain, since by tonight I shall be no more. Penniless, and at the end of my supply of the drug which alone makes life endurable, I can bear the torture no longer; and shall cast myself from...
Part I After twenty-two years of nightmare and terror, saved only by a desperate conviction of the mythical source of certain impressions, I am unwilling to vouch for the truth of that which I think I found in Western Australia on the night of July 17–18,...
An illusion it will be, so large, so vast, it will escape their perception. Those who will see it will be thought of as insane. We will create separate fronts to prevent them from seeing the connection between us. We will behave as if we are...
When the quarantine began, I thought life couldn’t get any worse, but it only took a week of silent streets and empty lots for that to change. On the seventh night, sitting and staring across the block from the window of my apartment, I saw...
It had rained off and on that summer night, leaving the forest dark and humid. Pushing through the wet underbrush after his friend, Noah wiped his hands on his pants, gripped his flashlight tighter, and complained, “But what if the ghost is real?” Crunching through the...
The day I accidentally witnessed my physics teacher die horribly, I didn’t know what to do. I went to my classes in a daze, sat there stunned for hours, and wondered if people would think I had something to do with it if I reported...
When I first saw him standing out there on the sidewalk, I thought nothing of it. I certainly didn’t think he’d still be out there come September. I lingered at the window for just a moment, decided that the night-bound silhouette across the street was...
I don’t have a gambling problem. That’s the first thing I want known. It’s also what they all say, right? No, I’m not addicted to gambling, but I have a co-dependency issue with someone who is. I’m not the coolest guy on the block, and I’m...
A single day added onto my sentence meant the difference between a normal jail and the unending nightmare of Pembina Prison. I was supposed to get 364 days. That was the deal. But the judge didn’t like my ‘attitude,’ whatever the hell that meant, so...
I. From the Dark Of Herbert West, who was my friend in college and in after life, I can speak only with extreme terror. This terror is not due altogether to the sinister manner of his recent disappearance, but was engendered by the whole nature of...
My name is Julien Serrault. It is the 7th of January, 1882. I am an innkeeper outside the mountain town of Briancon, at the base of the French Alps. The inn does not do much trade, and in the winter months I am sometimes alone...
I have examined maps of the city with the greatest care, yet have never again found the Rue d’Auseil. These maps have not been modern maps alone, for I know that names change. I have, on the contrary, delved deeply into all the antiquities of...