Storylink Radio

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You follow the road across the moor for two miles, until you come to Redman's Cross. You turn to the left there, and follow a rough path that leads through a larch plantation. And Tebbits' farm lies just below you in the valley...

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Friends decide to investigate a reputedly haunted house with... fatal results.

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What did he kill in that silent house - an unknown horror, or an empty coat? Or are there still answers that reason fears... truths that make the brain a gateway to darkness - through which come rushing Things beyond ken?

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WHAT ALWAYS BEATS them in the end, is how to dispose of the body. But, of course, you know that as well as I do...

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Here we are invited into an uncomfortable space inhabited by characters who may or may not be figments of the imagination.

FOR SEVERAL YEARS, Mrs. H. T. Miller had lived alone in a pleasant apartment in a remodeled brownstone. Her interests were narrow, she had no friends to speak of and she rarely journeyed farther than the corner grocery. The other people in the house never seemed to notice her.

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A man has lost his wife and decides to go back to the room they have stayed in, in Paris. In his grief he decides to visit his wife's tombstone, but wanders off in the graveyard and gets lost. When he again locates his wife's grave, he finds the dead have risen from their tombs, and rewritten her inscription with confessions of the truth of her death!

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A thin moon faints in the sky o'erhead, And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead. Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways, Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays, But forth of the gate and down the road, Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode. For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night, When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.

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No one would stay in this London house more than a few hours. Each one who would talk about what had happened had experienced something different. Disembodied hands and feet and footsteps and all shapes and colors and sizes of presences seek to terrify anyone who stays in this house. The malignant spirit of a wronged husband wreaking vengeance against the house and all who dwell within it - even from beyond the grave! An 1843 story that is the archetype for all Haunted House stories to follow, from the author who gave us the famous opening line "It was a dark and stormy night.."

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Tonight's story was told and recorded before a live, and perhaps a somewhat less so, audience in an authentic haunted house in Gold Hill, Nevada. Just a couple miles from Virginia City.

Of all species of ghostly phenomena, that commonly known as a "haunted house" appeals most to the ordinary person. There is something very eerie in being shut up within the four walls of a house with a ghost.

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In which a man confronts the ghost of a young woman who urges him to comb and braid her long hair.