If a feather will show how the wind blows, perhaps my dedicating to you even as light matter as these Confessions may in some measure prove how grateful I feel
The White Ship By H. P. Lovecraft
I am Basil Elton, keeper of the North Point light that my father and grandfather kept before me. Far from the shore stands the grey lighthouse, above sunken slimy rocks that are seen when the tide is low, but unseen…
The Whisperer in Darkness By H. P. Lovecraft
I. Bear in mind closely that I did not see any actual visual horror at the end. To say that a mental shock was the cause of what I inferred—that last straw which sent me racing out of the lonely…
What the Moon Brings By H. P. Lovecraft
I hate the moon—I am afraid of it—for when it shines on certain scenes familiar and loved it sometimes makes them unfamiliar and hideous. It was in the spectral summer when the moon shone down on the old garden where…
The Unnamable By H. P. Lovecraft
We were sitting on a dilapidated seventeenth-century tomb in the late afternoon of an autumn day at the old burying-ground in Arkham, and speculating about the unnamable. Looking toward the giant willow in the centre of the cemetery, whose trunk…
Under the Pyramids By H. P. Lovecraft for Harry Houdini
Mystery attracts mystery. Ever since the wide appearance of my name as a performer of unexplained feats, I have encountered strange narratives and events which my calling has led people to link with my interests and activities. Some of these…
The Tree by H. P. Lovecraft
“Fata viam invenient.” On a verdant slope of Mount Maenalus, in Arcadia, there stands an olive grove about the ruins of a villa. Close by is a tomb, once beautiful with the sublimest sculptures, but now fallen into as great…
The Transition of Juan Romero By H. P. Lovecraft
Of the events which took place at the Norton Mine on October 18th and 19th, 1894, I have no desire to speak. A sense of duty to science is all that impels me to recall, in these last years of…
The Tomb By H. P. Lovecraft
“Sedibus ut saltem placidis in morte quiescam.”—Virgil. In relating the circumstances which have led to my confinement within this refuge for the demented, I am aware that my present position will create a natural doubt of the authenticity of my…
Till A’ the Seas By R. H. Barlow and H. P. Lovecraft
Upon an eroded cliff-top rested the man, gazing far across the valley. Lying thus, he could see a great distance, but in all the sere expanse there was no visible motion. Nothing stirred the dusty plain, the disintegrated sand of…
Through the Gates of the Silver Key By H. P. Lovecraft and E. Hoffmann Price
I. In a vast room hung with strangely figured arras and carpeted with Bokhara rugs of impressive age and workmanship four men were sitting around a document-strown table. From the far corners, where odd tripods of wrought-iron were now and…
The Thing on the Doorstep By H. P. Lovecraft
I. It is true that I have sent six bullets through the head of my best friend, and yet I hope to shew by this statement that I am not his murderer. At first I shall be called a madman—madder…