Showing posts with label best horror stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label best horror stories. Show all posts

Saturday, August 27, 2016

The Damned Thing by Ambrose Bierce - Scary Short Story 17 in Andrew Barger's Countdown

Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914)

Similar to Edgar Allan Poe, Ambrose Bierce was an American short story writer and flame-throwing critic. Bierce also many stories that centered on the macabre. "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" is one of his most famous, but for purposes of my countdown of the best horror short stories from 1850-1899, his finest horror tale is "The Damned Thing."

Published on December 7, 1893 in Town Topics: The Journal of Society, a New York literary magazine, "The Damned Thing" at first blush addresses invisibility. The scary story was derided as a result because Fitz James O'Brien penned the first invisible monster horror story in 1859 and it was seen as an imitation on the theme.

Bierce, however, staunchly fought this notion by claiming his story involved a non-supernatural creature whose color was merely invisible to the human eye whereas O'Brien's beast was supernatural.

Enjoy horror short story 17 in my countdown to kick off the launch of my new annotated horror anthology, Best Horror Short Stories 1850-1899: A Phantasmal Horror Anthology.


The Damned Thing
1893


ONE DOES NOT ALWAYS EAT WHAT IS ON A TABLE

BY the light of a tallow candle, which had been placed on one end of a rough table, a man was reading something written in a book. It was an old account book, greatly worn; and the writing was not, apparently, very legible, for the man sometimes held the page close to the flame of the candle to get a stronger light upon it.
The shadow of the book would then throw into obscurity a half of the room, darkening a number of faces and figures; for besides the reader, eight other men were present. Seven of them sat against the rough log walls, silent and motionless, and, the room being small, not very far from the table. By extending an arm any one of them could have touched the eighth man, who lay on the table, face upward, partly covered by a sheet, his arms at his side. He was dead.
The man with the book was not reading aloud, and no one spoke; all seemed to be waiting for something to occur; the dead man only was without expectation. From the blank darkness outside came in, through the aperture that served for a window, all the ever unfamiliar noises of night in the wilderness——the long nameless note of a distant coyote; the stilly pulsing thrill of tireless insects in trees; strange cries of night birds, so different from those of the birds of day; the drone of great blundering beetles, and all that mysterious chorus of small sounds that seem always to have been but half heard when they have suddenly ceased, as if conscious of an indiscretion. But nothing of all this was noted in that company; its members were not over-much addicted to idle interest in matters of no practical importance; that was obvious in every line of their ruddy faces—obvious even in the dim light of the single candle. They were evidently men of the vicinity-farmers and woodmen.
The person reading was a trifle different: one would have said of him that he was o the world worldly, albeit there was that in his attire which attested a certain fellowship with the organisms of his environment. His coat would hardly have passed muster in San Francisco; his foot-gear was not of urban origin, and the hat that lay by him on the floor (he was the only one uncovered) was such that if one had considered it as an article of mere personal adornment he would have missed its meaning. In countenance the man was rather prepossessing, with just a hint of sternness; though that he may have assumed or cultivated, as appropriate to one in authority. For he was a coroner. It was by virtue of his office that he had possession of the book in which he was reading; it had been found among the dead man's effects—in his cabin. where the inquest was now taking place.
When the coroner had finished reading he put the book into his breast pocket. At that moment the door was pushed open and a young man entered. He, clearly, was not of mountain birth and breeding: he was clad as those who dwell in cities. His clothing was dusty, however, as from travel. He had, in fact, been riding hard to attend the inquest.
The coroner nodded; no one else greeted him.
“We have waited for you," said the coroner. "It is necessary to have done with this business to-night." The young man smiled "I am sorry to have kept you," he said. "I went away. not to evade your summons, but to post to my newspaper an account of—of what l suppose I am called back to relate."
The coroner smiled.
"The account that you posted to your newspaper," he said, "differs, probably, from that which you will give here under oath."
"That," replied the other, rather hotly and with a visible flush. “is as you choose. 1 used manifold paper and have a copy of what I sent. It was not written as news, for it is incredible, but as fiction. It may go as a,part of my testimony under oath."
"But you say it is incredible."
"That is nothing to you, sir, if I also swear that it is true."
The coroner was apparently not greatly affected by the young man's manifest resentment. I-Ie was silent for some moments, his eyes upon the floor. The men about the sides of the cabin talked in whispers. but seldom withdrew their gaze from the face of the corpse. Presently the coroner lifted his eyes and said: "We will resume the inquest."
The men removed their hats. The witness was sworn.
"What is our name?" the coroner asked.
"William I-Iarker."
"Age?"
"Twenty-seven."
"You knew the deceased. Hugh Morgan?"
"Yes."
"You were with him when he died?"
"Near him."
"How did that happen—your presence, I mean?"
"I was visiting him at this place to shoot and fish. A part of my purpose, however, was to study him, and his odd, solitary way of life. He seemed a good model for a character in fiction. I sometimes write stories."
"I sometimes read them."
"Thank you."
"Stories in general—not yours."
The witness was not visibly affected in any way, but some of the jurors laughed. Against a sombre background humor shows high lights. Soldiers in the intervals of battle laugh easily, and a jest in the death chamber conquers by surprise.
"Relate the circumstances of this man's death," said the coroner. "You may use any notes or memoranda that you please."
The witness understood. Pulling a manuscript from his breast pocket he held it near the candle, and turning the leaves until he found the passage that he wanted began to read.

II

WHAT MAY HAPPEN IN A FIELD OF WILD OATS

“ . . . The sun had hardly risen when we left the house. We were looking for quail, each with a shotgun, but we had but one dog. Morgan said that our best ground was beyond a certain ridge that he pointed out, and we crossed it by a trail through the chapparal. On the other side was comparatively level ground, thickly covered with wild oats. As we emerged from the chapparal, Morgan was a few yards in advance. Suddenly, we heard. at a little distance to our right, and partly in front, a noise as of some animal thrashing about in the bushes, which we could see were violently agitated.
"'We've started a deer,' I said. ‘I wish we had brought a rifle.'
"Morgan, who had stopped and was intently watching the agitated chapparal, said nothing, but had cocked both barrels of his gun, and was holding it in readiness to aim. I thought him a trifle excited, which surprised me, for he had a reputation for exceptional coolness, even in moments of sudden and imminent peril.
"'O, come!' I said. ‘You are not going to fill up a deer with quail-shot, are you?’
"Still he did not reply; but, catching a. sight of his face as he turned it slightly toward me, I was struck by the pallor of it. Then I understood that we had serious business on hand, and my first conjecture was that we had 'jumped' a grizzly. I advanced to Morgan's side, cocking my piece as I moved.
"The bushes were now quiet, and the sounds had ceased, but Morgan was as attentive to the place as before.
"'What is it? What the devil is it?' I asked.
"'That Damned Thing!' he replied, without turning his head. His voice was husky and unnatural. He trembled visibly.
"I was about to speak further, when I observed the wild oats near the place of the disturbance moving in the most inexplicable way. I can hardly describe it. It seemed as if stirred by a streak of wind, which not only bent it, but pressed it down—crushed it so that it did not rise, and this movement was slowly prolonging itself directly toward us.
"Nothing that I had ever seen had affected me so strangely as this unfamiliar and unaccountable phenomenon yet I am unable to recall any sense of fear. I remember—an relate it here because, singularly enough, I recollected it then——at once, in looking carelessly out of an open window. I momentarily took a small tree close at hand for one of a group of larger trees at a little distance away. It looked the same size as the others, but, being more distinctly and sharply defined in mass and detail, seemed out of harmony with  them. It was a mere falsification of the law of aerial perspective, but it startled, almost terrified me. We so rely upon the orderly operation of familiar natural laws that any seeming suspension of them l\' noted as a menace to our safety, a warning 0 unthinkable calamity. So now the apparently causeless movement of the herbage and the slow, undeviating approach of the line of disturbance were distinctly disquieting. My companion appeared actually frightened, and I could hardly credit my senses when I saw him suddenly throw his gun to his shoulder and fire both barrels at the agitated grass! Before the smoke of the discharge had cleared away I heard a loud savage cry—a scream like that of a wild animal—and, flinging his gun upon the ground, Morgan sprang away and ran swiftly from the spot. At the same instant I was thrown violently to the ground by the impact of something unseen in the smoke--some soft, heavy substance that seemed thrown against me with great force.
"Before l could get upon my feet and recover my gun, which seemed to have been struck from my hands, I heard Morgan crying out as if in mortal agony, and mingling with his cries were such hoarse savage sounds as one hears from fighting dogs. Inexpressibly terrified,I struggled to my feet and looked in the direction of Morgan's retreat; and may Heaven in mercy spare me from another sight like that! At a distance of less than thirty yards was my friend, down upon one knee, his head thrown back at a frightful angle, hatless, his long hair in disorder and his whole body in violent movement from side to side, backward and forward. His right arm was lifted and seemed to lack the hand—at least, I could see none. The other arm was invisible. At times, as my memory now reports this extraordinary scene, I could discern but a art of his body; it was as if he had been partly blotted out—I cannot otherwise express it—then a shifting of his position would bring it all into view again.
"All this must have occurred within a few seconds, yet in that time Morgan assumed all the postures of a determined wrestler vanquished by superior weight and strength. 1 saw nothing but him, and him not always distinctly. During the entire incident his shouts and curses were heard, as if through an enveloping uproar of such sounds of rage and fury as I had never heard from the throat of man or brute!
"For a moment only I stood irresolute, then, throwing down my gun, I ran forward to my friend's assistance. I had a vague belief that he was suffering from a fit, or some form of convulsion. Before I could reach his side he was down and quiet. All sounds had ceased, but, with a feeling of such terror as even these awful events had not inspired, l now saw the same mysterious movement of the wild oats prolonging itself from the trampled area about the prostrate man towards the edge of a wood. It was only when it had reached the wood that I was able to withdraw my eyes and look at my companion. He was dead. . .

III

A MAN IF NAKED MAY BE IN RAGS

The coroner rose from his seat and stood beside the dead man. Lifting an edge of the sheet he pulled it away, exposing the entire body, altogether naked, and showing, in the candle light, a claylike yellow. It had, however, broad maculations of bluish black, obviously caused by extravasated blood from contusions. The chest and sides looked as if they had been beaten with a bludgeon. There were dreadful lacerations; the skin was torn in strips and shreds.
The coroner moved round to the end of the table and undid a silk handkerchief, which had been passed under the chin and knotted on the top of the head. When the handkerchief was drawn away it exposed what had been the throat. Some of the witnesses who had risen to get a better view repented their curiosity, and turned away their faces. Witness Harker went to the open window and leaned out across the sill, faint and sick. Dropping the handkerchief upon the dead man's neck the coroner stepped to an angle of the room, and from a pile of clothing produced one garment after another, each of which he held up a moment for inspection. All were torn and stiff with blood.
"The jurors did not make a closer inspection. They seemed rather uninterested. They had, in truth, seen all this before; the only thing that was new to them being Harker's testimony.
"Gentlemen," the coroner said, “we have no more evidence; I think. Your duty has been already explained to you; if there is anything you wish to ask you may go outside and consider your verdict.
The foreman rose-a tall bearded man of sixty, coarsely clad. "i should like to ask one question, Mr. Coroner," he said. "What asylum mdid this yer last witness escape from?"
"Mr. Harker," said the coroner, gravely and tranquilly, "from what asylum did you last escape?"
Harker flushed crimson again, but said nothing, and the seven jurors rose and solemly filed out of the cabin.
"If you have done insulting me, sir," said Harker, as soon as he and the officer were left alone with the dead man. "I suppose I am at liberty to go?"
"Yes."
Harker started to leave, but paused, with his hand on the door latch. The habit of his profession was strong in him--stonger than his sense of personal dignity. He turned about and said: "The book that you have there--I recognize it as Morgan's diary. You seemed greatly interested in it; you read in it while I was testifying. May I see it? The public would like—"
"The book will cut no figure in this matter," replied the official, slipping it into his coat pocket; "all the entries in it were made before the writer's death."
As Harker passed out of the house the jury re-entered and stood about the table, on which the now covered corpse showed under the sheet with sharp definition. The foreman seated himself near the candle, produced from his breast pocket a pencil and scrap of paper, and wrote, rather laboriously, the following verdict, which with various degrees of effort all signed:
"We, the jury, do find that the remains come to their death at the hands of a mountain lion, but some of us thinks, all the same, they had fits."

IV

AN EXPLANATION FROM THE TOMB

In the diary of the late Hugh Morgan are certain interesting entries having, possibly, a scientific value as suggestions. At the inquest upon his body the book was not put in evidence; possibly the coroner thought it not worth while to confuse the jury. The date of the first of the entries mentioned cannot be ascertained; the upper part of the leaf is torn away; the part of the entry remaining is as follows:
" . . . up his bristles, growling and uncovering his teeth, making sudden dashes, then backing away, as if in fear. Sometimes he would run in a half circle, keeping his head turned always toward the centre. and again he would stand still, barking furiously. At last he ran away into the brush as fast as he could go. I thought at first that he had gone mad, but on returning to the house found no other alteration in his manner than what was obviously due to fear of punishment.
"Can a dog see with his nose? Do odors impress some olfactory centre with images of the thing emitting them? . . . .
"Sept. 2.-—Looking at the stars last night as they rose above the crest of the ridge east of the house, I observed them successively disappear—from left to right. Each was eclipsed but an instant, and only a few at the same time, but along the entire length of the ridge all that were within a degree or two of the crest were blotted out. It was as if something had passed along between me and them; but I could not see it, and the stars were not thick enough to define its outline. Ugh! I don't like this. . . ."
Several weeks' entries are missing, three leaves being torn from the book.
"Sept. 27.—It has been about here again—I find evidences of its presence every day. I watched again all of last night in the same cover, gun in hand, double-charged with buckshot. In the morning the fresh footprints were there, as before. Yet I would have sworn that I did not sleep-—indeed, I hardly sleep at all. It is terrible, insupportable If these amazing experiences are real I shall go mad; if they are fanciful I am mad already. . . .
"Oct. 3.——l shall not go—it shall not drive me away. No. this is my house, my land. God hates a coward. . . .
"Oct. 5.—l can stand it no longer; I have invited Harker to pass a few weeks with me—he has a level head. I can judge from his manner if he thinks me mad. . . .
"Oct. 7.—I have -the solution of the problem; it came to_me last night—suddenly, as by revelation. How simple—how terribly simple!
“There are sounds that we cannot hear. At either end of the scale are notes that stir no cord of that imperfect instrument. the human ear. They are too high or too grave. I have observed a flock of blackbirds occupying an entire tree-top— the tops of several trees—an(l all in full song. Suddenly—in a moment—at absolutely the same instant—all spring into the air and fly away. How? They could not all see one another—whole tree-tops intervened. At no point could a leader have been visible to all. There must have been a signal of warning or command, high and shrill above the din, but by me unheard. I have observed, too, the same simultaneous flight when all were silent. among not only blackbirds, but other birds——quail, for example. widely separated by bushes——even on opposite sides of a hill.
"It is known to seamen that a school of whales basking Or sporting on the surface of the ocean, miles apart. with the convexity of the earth between them, will sometimes dive at the same instant—all gone out of sight in a second. The signal has been sounded—too grave for the ear of the sailor at the masthead and his comrades on the deck—who nevertheless feel its vibration in the ship as the stones of a cathedral are stirred by the bass of the organ.
"As with sounds, so with colors. At each end of the solar spectrum the chemist can detect the presence of what are known 'actinic' rays. They represent colors—integral colors in ll"? composition of light—which we are unable to discern. The human eye is an imperfect instrument; its range is but a few octaves of the real ‘chromatic scale.’ I am not mad; there are colors that we cannot see.
"And, God help me! the Damned Thing is of that color!"
_________________________________________________________________________________

Best Horror Short Stories 1850-1899 Annotated
by


Exciting news in the horror world. This week I have pre-published my latest horror anthology - Best Horror Short Stories 1850-1899: A 6a66le Horror Anthology. It will launch October 8th just in time for the bewitching season. You can purchase it on Kindle for $2.99 during the pre-launch period. Order today!

#DamnedThing #AmbroseBierceStory


Thursday, October 20, 2011

Informal Poll of the Best Horror Short Stories

Before I countdown the Top 10 ghost stories for the first half of the 19th century, I started a discussion at the Kindle forums for people's favorite horror short stories. Here is the list, in no particular order:

Edgar Allan Poe: The Black Cat (2), The Cask of Amontillado (4), The Fall of the House of Usher, The Tell-Tale Heart, The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, The Pit and the Pendulum
Washington Irving: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
Algernon Blackwood: The Willows (2)
Robert Chambers: The King in Yellow, The Yellow Sign
Charlotte Perkins Gilman: The Yellow Wallpaper
Neil Gaiman: Don't Ask Jack, October in the Chair
Clive Barker: The Body Politic, Hellbound Heart
Shirley Jackson: The Summer People (2), The Lottery
Mary E Wilkins: The Wind in the Rose-Bush
Joyce Carol Oates: Night-Side
Robert Bloch: Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper, The Night Before Christmas
Ray Bradbury: The Crowd, The Veldt
Edward Bulwer-Lytton: The Haunters and the Haunted
Theodore Sturgeon: Vengeance is
Peter Straub: A Short Guide to the City
Cortozar: House Taken Over
E.F. Benson: The Room in the Tower
George R.R. Martin: Sandkings
Stephen King: Quitters Inc. (2), Mrs. Todd's Shortcut (2), Crouch End (2), Breathing Method, One for the Road, The Reaper's Image, The Reach, The Mangler, Rainy Season, The Ledge, The Jaunt, Survivor Type, The Mist, Sundog
James Everington: A Writer's Words, The Other Room
Jeffrey Deaver: Beautiful
H.P. Lovecraft: In The Vault, The Call of Cthulhu, The Colour out of Space (2), Dreams in the Witch House, The Outsider, The Music of Eric Zann, Shadow Over Innsmouth
Arthur Machen: The Great God Pan (2), Haunter of the Dark
R.L. Stevenson: The Merry Men
Charles Grant: This Old Man, The Garden of Blackred Roses
T.E.D. Klein: Children of the Kingdom
Sheridan Le Fanu: Carmilla, Green Tea
Nathaniel Hawthorne: Young Goodman Brown, The Minister's Black Veil
Robert E. Howard: Pigeons From Hell
A.M. Burrage: The Waxwork
H.R. Wakefield: He Cometh and He Passeth By
Ramsey Campbell: The Guide, The Companion (2)
M. R. James: Oh Whistle and I'll Come to you My Lad, The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral, Count Magnus
L. M. Boston: Curfew
Roger Johnson: The Wall Painting
R. H. Malden: The Sundial
Michael Shea: The Autopsy
Robert Aickman: The School Friend, Into the Wood, The Swords
Guy N Smith: Last Train
Nigel Kneale: Minuke
Ken Aldman: The Papal Magician
John Collier: Evening Primrose
Roald Dahl: Slaughter, Pig
F. Paul Wilson: Soft
Orson Scott Card: Eumenides, In The Fourth Floor Lavatory
Peter Watts: The Things
William Hope Hodgson: The House on the Borderland, The Voice in the Night

You can few of these scary stories in The Best Horror Stories Anthology that I edited, which was a finalist in the anthology category of the Indie Book Awards.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

"Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849" Finalist Award Winner in the Next Generation Indie Book Awards

Those of you who read my blog on a regular basis know that I recently published The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A Classic Horror Anthology. The book was well received by the horror community and the reviews were favorable (some are posted below); so I entered it in a book contest to see how it would do against the big publisher and best selling authors.

I am pleased to let you know that the book was just selected as a finalist awards winner in the anthology category for the Next Generation Indie Book Awards. The physical book is annotated and sells for $12.99 at major online book retailers. The ebook is not annotated and can be had for $2.99, the price of a cup of coffee and it will entertain for hours. Even cheaper still, Amazon has just selected it as one of its best selling Kindle books and discounted it to only $.99 only as part of its "sunshine sale." Of course, there's not a lot of sunshine in this classic scary story horror book!

The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849 is a book for anyone who loves a classic horror story.

Thanks to Edgar Allan Poe, HonorĂ© de Balzac, Nathaniel Hawthorne and others, the first half of the nineteenth century is the cradle of all modern horror short stories. I read over 300 horror short stories and compiled the dozen best. A few have never been republished since they were first published in leading periodicals of the day such as Blackwood’s and Atkinson’s Casket.

At the back of the book I include a list of all short stories I considered along with their dates of publication and the author, when available. I even include background for each of the stories, author photos and annotations for difficult terminology.

 

‘The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849’ will likely become a best seller . . .What makes this collection (of truly terrifying tales!) so satisfying is the presence of a brief introduction before each story, sharing some comments about the writer and elements of the tale. Barger has once again whetted our appetites for fright, spent countless hours making these twelve stories accessible and available, and has provided in one book the best of the best of horror short stories. It is a winner.

GRADY HARP - AMAZON TOP TEN REVIEWER

 

Through his introduction and footnotes, Barger aims for readers both scholarly and casual, ensuring that the authors get their due while making the work accessible overall to the mainstream.

BOOKGASM

 

[a] top to bottom pick for anyone who appreciates where the best of horror came from.

MIDWEST BOOK REVIEW

Friday, May 6, 2011

Best Scary Ghost Story 33 from 1800-1849 Posted

32

The next tale in my countdown of the Top 40 ghost stories for the first half of the nineteenth century is an anonymous story titled The Legend of Marseilles. This scary ghost story was first published in 1826 and was subsequently reprinted in a number of ghost anthologies. Without giving away too much, let's suffice it say that it proves not knowing when you are going to die is best.

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Best Horror Stories 1800-1849 ebook Price Dropped to $.99 for a Limited Time

Best_horror_stories_front_cove

I am in a horrific mood of late and as a result have just dropped the price of The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A Classic Horror Anthology to $.99 on: Best Horror Stories on Kindle Enjoy!

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Reveal for the #1 Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849

The reveal is finally here for the best horror short story of 1800-1849. I pick Edgar Allan Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher" for the number one spot. This fantastic horror tale is one of the best for the entire century, let alone the first half. You can read my thoughts and background information on it in The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A Classic Horror Anthology. In a future post I will list all of the Top 40 horror short stories again just in case you missed them the first time. Enjoy!

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Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Author of the Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849 is Edgar Allan Poe

The last notch in the wrung of my countdown for the Top 40 horror short stories from 1800-1849 is finally here. To little surprise, Edgar Allan Poe, who has appeared numerous times on this countdown, weighs in at the number one spot. Tomorrow I will reveal his classic horror tale that got him there. From there I will post the list of all 40 stories if you missed them during the countdown.

   

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Thursday, November 11, 2010

Author of the 2nd Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849 is Honoré de Balzac

Frenchman, HonorĂ© de Balzac (1799-1850), has already appeared a number of times in my countdown of the Top 40 horror short stories for the first half of the nineteenth century. Most recently he appeared in the 5th spot with "The Executioner." In my next post I will reveal the classic horror tale that lofted him into 2nd place on the countdown. 

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Monday, October 25, 2010

Author of the 4th Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849 is Samuel Warren

Barrister Samuel Warren (1807-1877) is the next author in my countdown of the best horror short stories for the first half of the nineteenth century. In my next post I will reveal his important horror story that appears at 4 on my Top 40 countdown of the best short horror stories for this period.  

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Saturday, October 16, 2010

Reveal of the 5th Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849

I pick the 5th best horror short story from 1800-1849 to be Honore de Blazac's "El Verdugo." This is his famous beheading story and the title means "The Executioner" in English. It is one of the first horror stories that forced a female character to commit a horrific act. You can read it in its entirety in my new book, The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A Classic Horror Anthology just in time for Halloween. At my Website (www.AndrewBarger.com) the haunting video book trailer for it.

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Friday, October 15, 2010

Author of the 5th Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849 is Honoré de Balzac

Honore de Balzac (1799-1850), that portly French writer of romance and horror, appears at number 5 on my countdown of the Top 40 horror short stories from 1800-1849. This weekend I will post the title of his haunting short horror story that is the first to make the Top 5. You can read the Top 12 in my new book: The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A Classic Horror Anthology.

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Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Author of the 7th Best Scary Short Story 1800-1849 is George Soane



It is extremely rare for George Soane (1789-1860) to be mentioned when scholars discuss the best horror short story writers for the first half of the nineteenth century. In my view he is one of the most largely overlooked horror story writers for this period. Tomorrow I will reveal his scary short story that is 7 on my countdown of the Top 40 from 1800-1849 and is contained in my new book: The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A Classic Horror Anthology.


Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Author of the 8th Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849 is Wilhelm Hauff

Back to my countdown of the Top 40 horror short stories from 1800-1849. The author of the 8th best horror story for this period is Wilhelm Hauff (1802-1827). Here is a photo of this German horror author who died much too young. Tomorrow I will post the title of his horror story.

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Friday, September 24, 2010

Reveal for the 9th Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849

I pick Edgar Allan Poe's The Tell-Tale Heart as the 9th best horror short story for the first half of the nineteenth century. Before I am finished with the countdown Poe will make three more appearances. For those of you interested in the great stories and poems of Poe, I edited Edgar Allan Poe Annotated and Illustrated Entire Stories and Poems that is chock full of interesting information about America's most mysterious and haunting author of the early nineteenth century. Next week I will continue with the countdown.

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Thursday, September 23, 2010

Author of the 9th Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849 is Edgar Allan Poe

This is not the first time Edgar Allan Poe has appeared in my countdown of the Top 40 horror short stories from 1800-1849, but it is the first time he has appeared in the Top 10. It will not be his last. Tomorrow I will reveal which horror short story of his I place at the ninth best for this period. While you wait, you can check out the press release for the best horror stories book that I edited, which contains the Top 12 horror short stories for this period. It's called The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A  Classic Horror Anthology.

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Monday, September 20, 2010

Author of the 10th Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849 is Nathaniel Hawthorne



Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864) is the next author to appear on my countdown of the Top 40 horror short stories from 1800-1849. Tomorrow I will reveal his story that is the first in the Top 10.


Tuesday, September 14, 2010

The 12th Best Horror Short Story 1800-1849 is The Old Man's Tale About the Queer Client



Yesterday I revealed the surprise author for what I believe is the 12th best horror story from 1800-1849 as being Charles Dickens. In The Old Man's Tale About the Queer Client he has penned a devilish horror story of revenge that is unmatched for this period. You can read the story and the background I provide for it in The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A Classic Horror Anthology. Tomorrow I will announce the author of the 11th best horror story.


Monday, September 13, 2010

Author of the 12th Best Horror Story 1800-1849 is Charles Dickens

When considering horror stories for the first half of the nineteenth century, Charles Dickens usually does not come to mind unless it is in the context of his ghost tales. For those following this blog you know that I excluded ghost stories from The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A Classic Horror Anthology because they belong in a genre all their own. Tomorrow I will provide the name of Dickens's horror story. Hint: It's from The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.

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Thursday, September 9, 2010

List of Authors in The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A Classic Horror Anthology

I am nearly finished with my countdown of the best horror stories from 1800-1849. I have published 40-13 and the final 12 stories are contained in my new book: The Best Horror Short Stories 1800-1849: A Classic Horror Anthology. Next I will start counting down these Top 12, but first I want to tease you a bit by listing the authors whose horror stories made the anthology:

Honore de Balzac
Charles Dickens (Surprise!)
E.T.A. Hoffmann
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Edgar Allan Poe (No surprise)
George Soane (Who?)
Samuel Warren

It's easy to see that some of these classic horror authors have multiple stories in the anthology. See if you can guess what horror stories by these authors made the Top 12 for the first half of the nineteenth century. Tomorrow I will list the countries where the authors are from. Enjoy.

Website: www.AndrewBarger.com

Posted via email from Best Classic Horror Short Stories Blog

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Author of the 18th Best Scary Short Story 1800-1849 is Edgar Allan Poe


Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) has made early and often appearances on this countdown of the Top 40 scary short stories from 1800-1849. Tomorrow I will post a link to his next story that uses a household pet in an ingenious fashion.