Tale Teller Book Club™

The Cask of Amontillado Edger Allen Poe Short Ghost and Horror Collection Free Downloads Public Domain.

out of the chained form seemed to thrust me violently back for a brief moment i hesitated i trembled unsheathing my rapier i began to grope with it about the recess but the thought of an instant reassured me i placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs and felt satisfied i reapproached the wall i replied to the yells of him who claimed i re-echoed i aided i surpassed them in volume and in strength i did this and the clamour grew still

it was now midnight and my task was drawing to a close i had completed the 8th the 9th and the 10th tier i had finished a portion of the last and the 11th there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in i struggled with its weight i placed it partially in its destined position but now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head it was succeeded by a sad voice which i had difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble fortunato the voice said a very good joke indeed an excellent chest we shall have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo over our wine

the amontillado i said

yes the amontillado but is it not getting late will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo the lady fortunato and the rest let us be gone yes i said let us be gone for the love of god montresor yes i said for the love of god

but to these words i hearkened in vain for a reply i grew impatient i called aloud fortunado no answer i called again fortunado

no answer still i thrust the torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within there came forth in reply only a jingling of the bells my heart grew sick on account of the dampness of the catacombs i hastened to make an end of my labour i forced the last stone into its position i plastered it up against the new masonry i re-erected the old rampart of bones for the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them imparte requiescat end of the cask of amontillado

Candlelight by Louise Garwood Short Ghost and Horror Collection Free Downloads Public Domain.

oh i tried and tried to come and i came to you at last and you were afraid you are afraid of me he could not speak he clung to the table weeping the mournful voice went on i must go away it will be lonely and cold and i can never come back anymore slowly she went over to where the candles burned and lifted one for the bracket shading it with her hand she turned her piteous face toward him again pruning the words over and over to herself as if they were a weird song you were afraid and now she was walking through the doorway the long garment trailing behind her the dark braids swinging loosely david could not follow come back come back he tried to call but the words were only a whisper click clack click clack then click clack again further and further away he listened and watched until the halo of light grew smaller and smaller and the footsteps died off in the silence while the wind and rain outside sounded as if they had taken up the burden of her moaning

oh oh i came to you and you were afraid a sharp pain david jerked his head up it had struck the wooden chest that lay on his knees how strange he could not remember having sat down again or having gathered the things from the floor stranger still the candles which had been only half burned when she was there flickered fitfully in their sockets ready to expire one at a time the flames fluttered and went out the next morning was bright and sunshiny the sky all blue and the trees and flowers were fresher from the last night's rain as david looked out the window the air was sweet and he saw that the gardener had been putting out the new violet plants from all around the garden their blooms looked up at him with bright faces where drops of moisture lingered shining like tears later as he walked down the staircase he found spots of the candle drip all the way and the last socket of the brass candelabra on the mantle was empty the end of candlelight by louise garwood

The Shell of Sense Olivia Howard Dunbar Public Domain Recital Free Download

section 9 of famous modern ghost stories this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org recording by sarah jennings famous modern ghost stories compiled by dorothy scarborough section 9 the shell of sense by olivia howard dunbar it was intolerably unchanged the dim dark-toned room in an agony of recognition my glance ran from one to another of the comfortable familiar things that my earthly life had been passed among incredibly distant from it all as i essentially was i noted sharply that the very gaps that i myself had left in the bookshelves still stood unfilled that the delicate fingers of the ferns i had tended were still stretched futilely toward the light that the soft agreeable chuckle of my own little clock like some elderly woman with whom conversation has become automatic was undiminished unchanged or so it seemed at first but there were certain trivial differences that shortly smote me the windows were closed too tightly for i had always kept the house very cool although i had known that teresa preferred warm rooms and my work basket was in disorder it was preposterous that so small a thing should hurt me so then for this was my first experience of the shadow folded transition the odd alteration of my emotions bewildered me for at one moment the place seemed so humanly familiar so distinctly my own proper envelope that for love of it i could have laid my cheek against the wall well in the next i was miserably conscious of strange new shrillnesses how could they be endured and had i ever endured them those harsh influences that i now perceived at the window light and color so blinding that they obscured the form of the wind tumult so discordant that one could scarcely hear the roses open in the garden below but teresa did not seem to mind any of these things disorder it is true the dear child had never minded she was sitting all this time at my desk at my desk occupied i could only too easily surmise how in the light of my own habits of precision it was plain that some somber correspondence should have been attended to before but i believe that i did not really reproach theresa for i knew that her notes when she did write them were perhaps less perfunctory than mine she finished the last one as i watched her and added it to the heap of black bordered envelopes that lay on the desk poor girl i saw now that they had cost her tears yet living beside her day after day year after year i had never discovered what deep tenderness my sister possessed toward each other it had been our habit to display only a temperate affection and i remember having always thought it distinctly fortunate for theresa since she was denied my happiness that she could live so easily and pleasantly without emotions of the devastating sort and now for the first time i was really to behold her could it be teresa after all this tangle of subdued turbulences let no one suppose that it is an easy thing to bear the relentlessly lucid understanding that i then first exercised or that in its first enfranchisement the timid vision does not yearn for its old screens and mists suddenly as theresa sat there her head filled with its tender thoughts of me held in her gentle hands i felt alan's step on the carpeted stair outside theresa felt it too but how for it was not audible she gave a start swept the black envelopes out of sight and pretended to be writing in a little book then i forgot to watch her any longer in my absorption in alan's coming it was he of course that i was awaiting it was for him that i had made this first lonely frightened effort to return to recover it was not that i had supposed he would allow himself to recognize my presence for had long been sufficiently familiar with his hard and fast denials of the invisible he was so reasonable always so sane so...

Middle Toe of the Right Foot by Ambrose Bierce Famous Modern Ghost Stories Public Domain.

section number eight of famous modern ghost stories this is a liverbox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org recording by matt howell

famous modern ghost stories compiled by dorothy scarborough section number eight the middle toe of the right foot by ambrose pierce

one it is well known that the old mountain house is haunted in all the rural districts near about and even in the town of marshall a mile away not one person of unbiased mind entertains a doubt of it incredulity is confined to those opinionated persons who will be called cranks as soon as the useful word shall have penetrated the intellectual domain of the marshall advance the evidence that the house is haunted is of two kinds the testimony of disinterested witnesses who have had ocular proof and that of the house itself the former may be disregarded and ruled out on any of the various grounds of objection which may be urged against it by the ingenious but facts within the observation of all are material and controlling in the first place the mountain house has been unoccupied by mortals for more than 10 years and with its outbuildings is slowly falling into decay a circumstance which in itself the judicious will hardly venture to ignore it stands a little way off the loneliest reach of the marshall and harriston road in an opening which was once a farm and is still disfigured with strips of rotting fence and half covered with brambles overrunning a stony and sterile soil long unacquainted with the plow the house itself is in tolerably good condition though badly weather stained and in dire need of attention from the glacier the smaller male population of the region having attested in the manner of its kind is disapproval of dwelling without dwellers it is two stories in height nearly square its front pierced by a single doorway flanked on each side by a window boarded up to the very top corresponding windows above not protected serve to admit light and rain to the rooms of the upper floor grass and weeds grow pretty wrinkly all about and a few shade trees somewhat the worst for wind and leaning all in one direction seemed to be making a concerted effort to run away in short as the marshalltown humorist explained in the columns of the advance the proposition that the mountain house is badly haunted is the only logical conclusion from the premises the fact that in this dwelling mr manton thought it expedient one night some 10 years ago to rise and cut the throats of his wife and two small children removing it once to another part of the country has no doubt done its share in directing public attention to the fitness of the place for supernatural phenomena to this house one summer evening came four men in a wagon three of them promptly alighted and the one who had been driving hitched the team to the only remaining post of what had been a fence the fourth remained seated in the wagon come said one of his companions approaching him while the others moved away in the direction of the dwelling this is the place the man addressed did not move by god he said harshly this is a trick and it looks to me as if you were in it perhaps i am the other said looking him straight in the face and speaking in a tone which had something of contempt in it you will remember however that the choice of place was with your own ascent left to the other side of course if you're afraid of spooks i'm afraid of nothing the man interrupted with another oath and sprang to the ground the two then joined the others at the door which one of them had already opened with some difficulty caused by rust of lock and hinge all entered inside it was dark but the man who had unlocked the door produced a candle and matches and made a light he then unlocked a door on their right as they stood in the...

Monday morning means the start of another fabulous week here at the book club.

o7 what was it by fitz james o'brien section 7 of famous modern ghost stories this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org recording by eager t4a famous modern ghost stories compiled by dorothy scarborough section 7 what was it by fitz james o'brien

it is i confess with considerable diffidence that i approach this strange narrative which i'm about to relate the events which i purpose detailing our so extraordinary character that i'm quite prepared to meet with an unusual amount of incredulity in scorn i accept all such beforehand i have i trust the literary courage to face unbelief i have after mature consideration resolve to narrate in a simple and straightforward a manner as i can compass some facts that passed under my observation in the month of july last and which in the annals of the mysteries of physical science are wholly unparalleled

i live at number 26th street in new york the house is in some respects the curious one it has enjoyed for the last two years the reputation of being haunted it is a large and stately residence surrounded by what once was a garden but which is now only a green enclosure used for bleaching clothes the dry basin of what has been a fountain and a few fruit trees ragged and unpruned indicate that this spot in past days was a pleasant shady retreat filled with fruits and flowers and the sweet murmur of waters the house is very spacious a hall of noble size leads to a large spiral staircase winding through its center while the various apartments are of imposing dimensions

it was built some 15 or 20 years since by mr a the well-known new york merchant who five years ago through the commercial world into convulsions by stupendous bank fraud mr a as everyone knows escaped to europe and that not long after of a broken heart almost immediately after the news of his disease reached this country and was verified the report spread in 26th street that number was haunted legal measures had dispossessed the widow of its former owner and it was inhabited merely by a caretaker and his wife placed there by the house agent into whose hands it had passed for the purposes of renting or sale these people declared that they were troubled with unnatural noises doors were opened without any visible agency the remnants of furniture scattered through the various rooms were during the night piled one upon the other by unknown hands invisible feet passed up and down the stairs in broad daylight accompanied by the rustle of unseen silk dresses and the gliding of viewless hands along the massive balusters

the caretaker and his wife declared they would live there no longer the house agent laughed dismissed them and put others in their place the noises and the supernatural manifestations continued the neighborhood caught up the story and the house remained untenanted for three years several persons negotiated for it but somehow always before the bargain was closed they heard the unpleasant rumors and declined to treat any further it was in this state of things that my landlady who at that time kept the boarding house in bleecker street and who wished to move further uptown conceived the bold idea of renting number 26th street happening to have in her house rather plucky and philosophical set of borders she later schemed before us stating candidly everything she had heard respecting the ghostly qualities of the establishment to which she wished to remove us with the exception of two timid persons a sea captain and a returned californian who immediately gave notice that they would leave one of mrs muffett's guests declared that they would accompany her in her gervaric incursion into the abode of spirits our removal was affected in the month of may and we were charmed with our new residence the...

From the new novel by Tale Teller Club

The carriage approached Chrisington Hall as dusk fell. A quarter moon peeped through clouds and a startled bat flew past the horse as it came to an abrupt halt.



"It's no place for a lady M'am, if you don't mind me saying." said the driver.
"Got a bad reputation in the village. They say he's mad as a hatter, Mr. Elliam, and those daughters of his carry the curse."


"Ah, tittle-tattle! One should always avoid such gauche things," said the Governess.
The coach driver looked doubtful, "Rather you than me M'am, the staff never stay long."

The Governess stood at the large door with her trunk. She looked around to take things in. A bat flew to her shoulder and settled there for a moment. The Governess stroked its wing as darkness fell.

"Yes, I am going to like it here," she said softly.

The large oak door opened with a creek. The butler, without speaking, motioned that the Governess enter and sent a maid to collect the trunk.

"I'm Annabelle Madam..." Anabelle curtsied awkwardly, "and I will be your personal maid Miss, erm, Madam, Miss. Anything you need Madam.....I will oblige...... to my utmost...erm ability."

Annabelle was a scrap of a girl who looked underfed. She was nervous and jumpy. She would no doubt irritate the Governess with very little practice.

"I will show you to your quarters," said the Butler. "I am Vladamir. I too am at your beck and call and have been instructed to welcome you to Chrisington Hall and to ask that you treat this as your home."

Vladamir had a faint accent, presumably Russian. His height was hampered by a stoop and his uniform had seen better days. There was a heavy scent of wood polish and musk as they climbed the stairs steadily. The Governess' crinolines rustled to the rhythm of each step and a mouse came to see what was going on before scurrying away.

"Pesky mice," mumbled the Butler.

The quarters were adequate. Somewhat nondescript. The top floor, four flights up, provided a good vantage point to the front aspect. A small windowpane rattled and an owl made its presence known.

The Governess thanked the Butler and bade him goodnight. A plate of refreshments had been prepared on a side table with a small teapot.

Anabelle appeared from a side door.
"I ave just prepared madam's toilette, Miss, Madam, erm....yes. Erm, would Madam prefer that I unpack 'er things now or tomorrow?" she queried.

"Tomorrow," said the Governess. I will rise at 6 am sharp, please have my breakfast ready."

Anabelle curtseyed again, mumbling a combination of indescriminate titles, and scurried away in a similar fashion to the mouse on the stairs.

The Governess took her refreshments and prepared herself for rest. There would be little sleep for her tonight though. She removed her spellbook from her bag. It was bound in the skin of a previous lover. She smelt it and thought fondly of the times they had shared before his misdemeanors had forced her hand. Smiling at her nostalgic whimsy, she wrote notes on the people so far encountered at Chrisington Hall.

© 2021 Sarnia de la Maré
all rights reserved

The start of my new series is here.

The Governess readjusted her handmade lace apron. She had made it herself, in some other time zone, when there were fewer pressing engagements. Its delicate intricacies were a pleasure to her and she wore it proudly.

Small white birds were evident in the corners, with filigree cotton threads forming a birdcage of knotted and twisted net.

"Argh, curses", she muttered. There was a small fleck of purple blood splatter from the corpse.

She sighed, begrudging chance, and sucked it clean.

Nothing else was soiled, surprisingly. It was a blessing as her wards were expecting a history class at 1 pm sharp. The Governess was never late.

An expert in world histories, the lifelong Governess had been around a while. She had seen many things, lived many women's lives. Such is the contribution of the old, the unsurpassed wisdom so oft ignored by the young.

But of course, the Governess was not old by the standards of the twenty-first century. A mere forty-five summers had tanned her cheekbones, whilst each cold winter had brought ever more creases to a sardonic smile.

The corpse loudly ejected its final gases and the death smell was begun.

The Governess adjusted her hat to its perfect angle and turned, spitting at the cadaver. en route to the carved wooden door and the darkened stairwell.

"Hell will not entertain you now, for I have cursed your soul," she muttered. "Welcome to Hades, Mr. Croft.

Welcome indeed."

© 2021 Sarnia de la Maré
all rights reserved

The Mass of Shadows by Anatole France A Ghost Story from the Tale Teller Horror Club

section six of famous modern ghost stories this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.com recording by sage turtle famous modern ghost stories compiled by dorothy scarborough section 6 the mass of shadows by anatole france this tale the sacristan of the church of saint eulee at nouvelle dumont told me as we sat under the arbor of the white horse one fine summer evening drinking a bottle of old wine to the health of the dead man now very much at his ease whom that very morning he had born to the grave with full honors beneath a paw powdered with smart silver tears my poor father who is dead it is the sacristan who is speaking was in his lifetime a gravedigger he was of an agreeable disposition the result no doubt of the calling he followed for it has often been pointed out that people who work in cemeteries are of a jovial turn death has no terrors for them they never give it a thought i for instance monsieur enter a cemetery at night as little perturbed as though it were the arbor of the white horse and if by chance i meet with a ghost i don't disturb myself in the least about it for i reflect that he may just as likely have business of his own to attend to as i i know the habits of the dead and i know their character indeed so far as that goes i know things of which the priests themselves are ignorant if i were to tell you all i have seen you would be astounded but a still tongue makes a wise head and my father who all the same delighted in spinning a yarn did not disclose a 20th part of what he knew to make up for this he often repeated the same stories and to my knowledge he told the story of catherine fontaine at least a hundred times catherine fontaine was an old maid whom he well remembered having seen when he was a mere child i should not be surprised if there were still perhaps three old fellows in the district who could remember having heard folks speak of her for she was very well known and of excellent reputation though poor enough she lived at the corner of the rue oh none in the turret which is still to be seen there and which formed part of an old half ruined mansion looking onto the garden of the ursuline nuns on that turret can still be traced certain figures and half obliterated inscriptions the late curay of saint ulele monsieur leveser asserted that there are the words in latin love is stronger than death which is to be understood so he would add of divine love catherine fontaine lived by herself in this tiny apartment she was a lace maker you know of course that the lace made in our part of the world was formerly held in high esteem no one knew anything of her relatives or friends it was reported that when she was 18 years of age she had loved the young chevalier domincleri and had been secretly affiance to him but decent folk didn't believe a word of it and said that was nothing but a tale concocted because catherine fontaine's demeanor was that of a lady rather than that of a working woman and because moreover she possessed beneath her white locks the remains of a great beauty her expression was sorrowful and on one finger she wore one of those rings fashioned by the goldsmith into the semblance of two tiny hands clasped together in former days folks who are accustomed to exchange such rings at their betrothal ceremony i'm sure you know the sort of thing i mean catherine fontaine lived a saintly life she spent a great deal of time in churches and every morning whatever might be the weather she went to assist at the six o'clock mass at st mueller now one december night while she was in her little chamber she was awakened by the sound of bells and nothing doubting that they were ringing for the first mass the pious woman dressed herself and came downstairs and out into the street the night was so obscure that not...

The Beast With Five Fingers by W F Harvey Free download Public Domain Library Part 2

second file of section 5 of famous modern ghost stories this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org recording by j.c guan famous modern ghost stories compound by dorothy scarborough section 5 file number 2 the beast with five fingers by w f harvey

part three whatever it was said useless to sounders on the following morning i propose that we drop the subject there's nothing to keep us here for the next 10 days we'll motor up to the lakes and get some climbing and see nobody all day and sit board to death with each other every night not for me thanks why not run up to town runs the exact word in this case isn't it we're both in such a blessed funk pull yourself together use this and let's have another look at the hand as you like said use this there's the key they went into the library and opened the desk the box was as they had left it on the previous night what are you waiting for asked to use this i am waiting for you to volunteer to open the lid however since you seem to funk it allow me there doesn't seem to be the likelihood of any rumpus this morning at all events he opened the lid and picked out the head cold the useless tepid a bit below blood heat by the field soft and supple too if it's the evolving it's a sort of embalming i've never seen before is it your uncle's hand oh yes it's his alright instead use this i should know those long thin fingers anywhere put it back in the box sounders never mind about the screws i'll lock the desk so that there will be no chance of its getting out well compromised by motoring up to town for a week if we get up soon after lunch we ought to be at grand ham or stamford by night right said sounders and tomorrow oh well by tomorrow we shall have forgotten all about this beastly thing if when the morrow came they had not forgotten it was certainly true that at the end of the week they were able to tell a very vivid ghost story at the little supper used this game on halloween you don't want us to believe that's true mr boilsover how perfectly awful i'll take my oaths on it and so would sounders here wouldn't you old chap any number of those said sanders it was a long thin hand you know and it gripped me just like that don't miss the sounders don't how perfectly horrid now tell us another one do only a really creepy one please here's a pretty mess said useless on the following day as he throw a letter across the table to sounders it's your fair though mrs merritt if i understand it gives a month's notice oh that's quite absurd on mrs merritt's part sandus replied she doesn't know what she's talking about let's see what she says dear sir he read this is to let you know that i must give you a month's notice as from tuesday the 13th for a long time i felt the place too big for me but when jane parfet and emma laidlaw go off with scarcely as much as and if you please after frightening the wits out of the other girls so that they can't turn out a room by themselves or walk alone down the stairs for fear of shredding on half frozen toads or hearing it run along the passages at night all i can say is that it's no place for me so i must ask you mr balls over sir to find a new housekeeper that has no objection to large and lonely houses which some people do say not that i believe then for a minute my poor mother always having been at wasteland are haunted yours faithfully elizabeth merit p.s i should be obliged if you would give my respect to mr saunders i hope that he won't run no risks with his cold saunders said use this you've always had a wonderful way with you in dealing with servants you mustn't let poor old married go of course she shan't go said saunders she's probably only angling for a rise in salary i'll write to her this morning no there's nothing like a personal interview we've...

The Beast With Five Fingers by W F Harvey Free download Public Domain Library Part 1

section 5 of famous modern ghost stories this is a librivox recording all libribox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org recording by jc guan famous modern ghost stories compounded by dorothy scarborough section 5 the beast with five fingers by w.f harvey when i was a little boy i once went with my father to call on adrian bolas over i played on the floor with a black spaniel while my father appealed for a subscription just before we left my father said mr ballstover may my son here shake hands with you it will be a thing to look back upon with pride when he grows to be a man i came up to the bed on which the old man was lying and put my hand in his awed by the still beauty of his face he spoke to me kindly and hoped that i should always try to please my father then he placed his right hand on my head and asked for a blessing to rest upon me amen said my father and i followed him out of the room feeling as if i wanted to cry but my father was in excellent spirits that old gentleman jim said he is the most wonderful man in the whole town for 10 years he has been quite blind but i saw his eyes i said they were ever so black and shiny they weren't shut up like nora's puppies can't he see at all and so i learned for the first time that a man might have eyes that looked dark and beautiful and shining without being able to see just like mrs tom listen has big ears i said and can't hear at all except when mr tomlinson shouts jim said my father it's not right to talk about the lady's years remember what mr bulls silver said about pleasing me and being a good boy that was the only time i saw adrian balls over i soon forgot about him and the head which he laid in blessing on my head but for a week i prayed that those dark tender eyes might see his spaniel may have puppies i said in my prayers and he will never be able to know how funny they look with their eyes all closed up please let old mr bulls oversee adrian bolasover as my father had said was a wonderful man he came of an eccentric family balls over sons for some reason always seemed to marry very ordinary women which perhaps accounted for the fact that no voice over had been a genius and only one world sovereign had been mad but they were great champions of little causes generous patrons of old sciences founders of careless sets trustworthy guides to the bypass meadows of eridition adrian was an authority on the fertilization of orchids he had held at one time the family living at boils over conyers until the congenial weakness of the lungs obliged him to seek a less rigorous climate in the sunny south coast watering place where i had seen him occasionally he would relieve one or other of the local clergy my father described him as a fine preacher who gave long and inspiring sermons from what many men would have considered unprofitable texts an excellent proof he would add of the truth of the doctrine of direct verbal inspiration adrian bolasover was exceedingly clever with his hands his penmanship was exquisite he illustrated all his scientific papers made his own woodcuts and carved the rabbitus that is at present the chief feature of interest in the church at bulls over conyers he had an exceedingly clever knack in cutting silhouettes for young ladies and paper pigs and cows for little children and made more than one complicated wind instrument of his own devising when he was 50 years old adrian bull silvers lost his sight in a wonderfully short time he had adapted himself to the new conditions of life he quickly learned to read braille so marvelous indeed was his sense of touch that he was still able to maintain his interest in botany the mere passing of his long supple fingers over a flower with sufficient means for its identification though occasionally he would use his lips i have found several letters of his among...