The Singular Death Of Morton

He framed the name of his friend with his lips, yet the sound did not come forth. Some deeper instinct warned him to hold it back. Instead, after incredible efforts, he climbed that iron gate and dropped down into the soaking grass upon the other side. Then, taking advantage of all the cover he could find, he ran, swiftly and stealthily, towards the cemetery. On the way, without quite knowing why he did so, he picked up a heavy stick; and a moment later he stood beside the low wall that separated the fields from the churchyard -- stood and stared.

There, beside the tombstones, with their hideous metal wreaths and crowns of faded flowers, he made out the figure of his friend; he was stooping, crouched down upon the ground; behind him rose a couple of bushy yew trees, against the dark of which his form was easily visible. He was not alone; in front of him, bending close over him it seemed, was another figure -- a slight, shadowy, slim figure.

- Algernon Blackwood

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Ancient Sorceries

The wind whistled at the skirts of his coat as the
air round him darkened with many flying forms
crowding upwards out of the valley. The crying of
hoarse voices smote upon his ears, coming closer.
Strokes of wind buffeted him, tearing him this way
and that along the crumbling top of the stone wall;
and Ilse clung to him with her long shining arms,
smooth and bare, holding him fast about the neck.
But not Ilse alone, for a dozen of them surrounded
him, dropping out of the air. The pungent odour of
the anointed bodies stifled him, exciting him to
the old madness of the Sabbath, the dance of the
witches and sorcerers doing honour to the 

personified Evil of the world.

- Algernon Blackwood

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The Listener

Nov. 2. - The utter stillness of this house is beginning to oppress me. I wish there were other fellows living upstairs. No footsteps ever sound overhead, and no tread ever passes my door to go up the next flight of stairs. I am beginning to feel some curiosity to go up myself and see what the upper rooms are like. I feel lonely here and isolated, swept into a deserted corner of the world and forgotten... Once I actually caught myself gazing into the long, cracked mirrors, trying to see the sunlight dancing beneath the trees in the orchard. But only deep shadows seemed to congregate there now, and I soon desisted. 

Algernon Blackwood

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