Tale Teller Book Club™

Starting the weekend as we mean to go on! Petrified.

story 10 from day and night stories by algin and blackwood 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 cliff stone of sydney australia story 10 by water the night before young larson left to take up his new appointment in egypt he went to the clairvoyant he neither believed nor disbelieved he felt no interest for he already knew his past and did not wish to know his future just to please me jim the girl pleaded the woman is wonderful before i had been five minutes with her she told me your initials so there must be something in it she read your thought he smiled indulgently even i can do that but the girl was an earnest he yielded and that night at his farewell dinner he came to give his report of the interview the result was meager and unconvincing money was coming to him he was soon to make a voyage and he would never marry so you see how silly it all is he laughed for they were to be married when his first promotion came he gave the details however making a little story of it in the way he knew she loved but was that all jim the girl asked looking rather hard into his face aren't you hiding something from me he hesitated a moment then burst out laughing at her clever discernment there was a little more he confessed but you take it all so seriously i he had to tell it then of course the woman had told him a lot of gibberish about friendly and unfriendly elements she said water was unfriendly to me i was to be careful of water or else i should come to harm by it fresh water only he hastened to add seeing that the idea of shipwreck was in her mind drowning the girl asked quickly yes he admitted with reluctance but still laughing she did say drowning though drowning in no ordinary way the girl's face showed an easiness a moment what does that mean drowning in no ordinary way she asked a catch in her breath but that he could not tell her because he did not know himself he gave therefore the exact words you will drown but will not know you drown it was unwise of him he wished afterwards he had invented a happier report or had kept this detail back i'm safe in egypt anyhow he laughed i shall be a clever man if i can find enough water in the desert to do me harm and all the way from trieste to alexandria he remembered the promise she had extracted that he would never once go on the nile unless judy made it imperative for him to do so he kept that promise like the lateral faithful soul he was his love was equal to the somewhat quixotic sacrifice that occasionally involved fresh water in egypt there was practically none either and in any case the natural works where his duty lay had their headquarters some distance out into the desert the river with its spanx of welcome refreshing virgil was not even visible months passed quickly and the time for leave came within miserable distance in the long interval luck had played the cards kindly for him vacancies had occurred early promotion seemed likely and his letters were full of plans to bring her out to share a little house of their own his health however had not improved the dryness did not suit him even in this short period his blood had thinned his nervous system deteriorated and contrary to the doctor's prophecy the waterless air had told upon his sleep a damp climate liked him best and once the sun had touched him with its fiery finger his letters made no mention of this he described the life to her the work the sport the pleasant people and his chances of increased pay in early marriage and a week before he sailed he rode out upon a final act of duty to inspect the latest diggings his company were making his course lay some 20 miles into the desert behind alcabak and towards the limestone hills of gubel heidi and he went alone carrying lunch and tea for it was the weekly holiday of friday and the men were...

The Bit of Wood Short Ghost and Horror Collection by Tale Teller Book Club Public Domain.

story 12 of day and night stories by algin and blackwood 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 cliffstone of sydney australia story 12 a bit of wood he found himself in marin with some cousins who had various slight ailments but being rich and imaginative had gone to a sanatorium to be cured but for its sanatorium mirin might be a cheerful place their ubiquity reminds a healthy man too often that the air is really good being well enough himself except for a few mental worries he went to a guest house in the neighborhood in the sanatorium his cousins complained bitterly of the food the ignorant sisters the inattentive doctors in the idiotic regulations generally which proves that people should not go to a sanatorium unless they are really ill however they paid heavily for being there so felt that something was being accomplished and were annoyed when he called each day for tea and told them cheerfully how much better they looked which proved again that their ailments were slight and quite curable by the local doctor at home with one of the ailing cousins a rich and pretty girl he believed himself in love it was a three weeks business and he spent his mornings walking in the surrounding hills his mind reflective analytical and ambitious as with a man in love he thought of thousands of things he mooned once for instance he paused beside a rivulet to watch the buttercups dip and asked himself will she be like this when we're married so anxious to be well that she thinks fearfully all the time of getting ill for if so he felt he would be bored he knew himself accurately enough to realize that he never could stand that yet the money was a wonderful thing to have and he already 35 had little enough am i influenced by her money then he asked himself and so went on to ask and wonder about many things besides for he was of a reflective temperament and his father had been a minor poet and doubt crept in he felt a chill he was not much of a man perhaps thin blooded and unsuccessful rather a dreamer too into the bargain he had 100 pounds a year of his own at a position in a philanthropic institution due to influence with a nominal salary attached he meant to keep the latter after marriage he would work just the same nobody should ever say that of him and as he sat on the fallen tree beside the rivulet idly knocking stones into the rushing water with his stick he reflected upon those banal truisms that epitomized two-thirds of life the way little unimportant things can change a person's whole existence was the one his thought just now had fastened on his cousin's chill and headache for instance caught at a gloomy picnic on the company three weeks before had led her to going into a sanatorium and being advised that her heart was weak that she had a tendency to asthma that gout was in her system and that a treatment of x-rays radium sun baths and light baths violet rays no meat complete rest with big daily fees to experts with european reputations were imperative from that chill setting a moment too long in the shadow of a forgotten patrician's tomb he reflected has come all this all this including his doubt as to whether it was herself or her money that he loved whether he could stand living with her always whether he need really keep his work on after marriage in a word his entire life and future and her own as well all from that tiny chill three weeks ago and he knocked with his stick a little piece of sawn off board that lay beside the rushing water upon that bitter wood his mind his mood then fastened itself it was triangular a piece of sawn off wood brown with age and ragged once it had been part of a triumphant hopeful sapling on the mountains then when 30 years of age the men had cut it down the rest of it stood...

Shivers and spooks are on the timetable today with three great short stories.
Art and merchandise are on the website for those who like a bit of gothic terror in their homes too.

the black cat by edgar allan poe this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org read by cliff stone of sydney australia the black cat by edgar allan poe for the most wild yet most homely narrative which i'm about to pen i neither expect nor solicit belief mad indeed would i be to expect it in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence yet mad i am not and very surely do i not dream but tomorrow i die and today i would unbirthen my soul my immediate purpose is to place before the world plainly succinctly and without comed a series of mere household events in their consequences these events have terrified have tortured have destroyed me yet i will not attempt to expound them to me they have presented little but horror to many they will seem less terrible than baroques hereafter perhaps some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the commonplace some intellect more calm more logical and far less excitable than my own which will perceive in the circumstances i detail with or nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects from my infancy i was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition my tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make me the gist of my companions i was especially fond of animals and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets with these i spent most of my time and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing them this peculiarity of character grew with my growth and in my manhood i derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure to those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog i need hardly beard the trouble of explaining the nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable there is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere man i married early and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my own observing my partiality for domestic pets she lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind we had birds goldfish a fine dog rabbits a small monkey and a cat this latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal entirely black and sagacious to an astonishing degree in speaking of his intelligence my wife who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise not that she was ever serious upon this point and i mentioned the mata at all for no better reason than that it happens just now to be remembered pluto this was the cat's name was my favorite pet and playmate i alone fed him and he attended me wherever i went about the house it was even with difficulty that i could prevent him from following me through the streets our friendship lasted in this manner for several years during which my general temperament and character through the instrumentality of the fiend in temperance had i blushed to confess it experienced a radical alteration for the worse i grew day by day more moody more irritable more regardless of the feelings of others i suffered myself to use intemperate language to my wife at length i even offered her personal violence my pets of course were made to feel the change in my disposition i not only neglected but ill-used them for pluto however i still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from maltreating him as i made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits the monkey or even the dog when by accident or through affection they came in my way but my disease grew up on me for what disease is...

Lazarus Famous Modern Ghost Stories Dorothy Scarborough Collections Free Download

section 4 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 famous modern ghost stories compiled by dorothy scarborough section 4 lazarus by leonid andrejev translated by abraham yarmolinski 1. when lazarus left the grave where for three days and three nights he had been under the enigmatical sway of death and returned alive to his dwelling for a long time no one noticed in him those sinister oddities which as time went on made his very name a terror gladdened unspeakably by the sight of him who had been returned to life those near to him caressed him unceasingly and satiated their burning desire to serve him and solicited for his food and drinking garments and they dressed him gorgeously in bright colors of hope and laughter and when like to a bridegroom in his bridal vestures he sat again among them at the table and again ate and drank they wept overwhelmed with tenderness and they summoned the neighbors to look at him who had risen miraculously from the dead these came and shared the serene joy of the hosts strangers from far-off towns and hamlets came and adored the miracle and impesuous words like to a beehive was the house of mary and martha whatever was found new in lazarus's face and gestures was thought to be some trace of a grave illness and of the shocks recently experienced evidently the destruction wrought by death on the corpse was only arrested by the miraculous power but its effects were still apparent and what death had succeeded in doing with lazarus face and body was like an artist's unfinished sketch seen under thin glass on lazarus's temples under his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks lay a deep and cadaverous blueness cadaverously blue also were his long fingers and around his fingernails grown long in the grave the blue had become purple and dark on his lips the skin swollen in the grave had burst in places and thin reddish cracks were formed shining as though covered with transparent mica and he had grinned stout his body puffed up in the grave retained its monstrous size and showed those frightful swellings in which one sensed the presence of the rank liquid of decomposition but the heavy corpse like odor which penetrated lazarus's grave clothes and it seemed his very body soon entirely disappeared the blue spots on his face and hands grew paler and the reddish cracks closed up although they never disappeared altogether that is how lazarus looked when he appeared before people in his second life but his face looked natural to those who had seen him in the coffin

in addition to the changes in his appearance lazarus's temper seemed to have undergone a transformation but this circumstance startled no one and attracted no attention before his death lazarus had always been cheerful and carefree fond of laughter and a merry joke it was because of this brightness and cheerfulness with not a touch of malice and darkness that the master had grown so fond of him but now lazarus had grown grave and taciturn he never jested himself nor responded with laughter to other people's jokes and the words which he uttered very infrequently were the plainest most ordinary and necessary words as deprived of depth and significance as those sounds with which animals express pain and pleasure thirst and hunger there were the words that one can say all one's life and yet they give no indication of what pains and gladdens the depths of the soul

thus with the face of a corpse which for three days had been under the heavy sway of death dark and taciturn already appallingly transformed but still unrecognized by anyone in his new self he was sitting at the feasting table among friends and relatives in his gorgeous nuptial garments clittered with yellow gold and bloody scarlet broad waves of...

The Messenger Famous Modern Ghost Stories Dorothy Scarborough Collections Free Download.

this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information and to find out how to volunteer please visit librivox.org recording by marion brown toronto canada famous modern ghost stories compiled by dorothy scarborough section 3 the messenger by robert w chambers little grey messenger robed like painted death your robe is dust whom do you seek among lily's enclosed buds at dusk among lily's enclosed buds at dusk whom do you seek little grey messenger robed in the awful penelope of painted death all wise hast thou seen all there is to see with thy two eyes dost thou know all there is to know and so omniscient darest thou still to say thy brother lies

one the bullet entered here said max fortin and he placed his middle finger over a smooth hole exactly in the center of the forehead i sat down upon a mound of dry seaweed and unslung my fouling piece the little chemist cautiously felt the edges of the shot hole first with his middle finger and then with his thumb let me see the skull again said i max fortin picked it up from the sod it's like all the others he repeated wiping his glasses on his handkerchief i thought you might care to see one of the skulls so i brought this one over from the gravel pit the men from banilak are digging yet they ought to stop how many skulls are there altogether i inquired they found 38 skulls there are 39 noted in the list they lie piled up in the gravel pit on the edge of la bihan's wheat field the men are at work yet the bihan is going to stop them let's go over said i and i picked up my gun and started across the cliffs portion on one side womb on the other who has the list i asked lighting my pipe you say there's a list the list was found rolled up in a brass cylinder said the chemist he added you should not smoke here you know that if a single spark drifted into the wheat ah but i have a cover to my pipe said i smiling fortune watched me as i closed the pepper box arrangement over the glowing bowl of the pipe then he continued the list was made out on thick yellow paper the brass tube has preserved it it is as fresh today as it was in 1760 you shall see it is that the date the list is dated april 1760 the brigadier durand has it it is not written in french not written in french i exclaimed no replied fortune solemnly it is written in breton but i protested the breton language was never written or printed in 1760 except by priests said the chemist i have heard of but one priest whoever wrote the bretton language i began fortune stole a glance at my face you mean the black priest he asked i nodded fortin opened his mouth to speak again hesitated and finally shut his teeth obstinately over the wheat stem that he was chewing and the black priest i suggested encouragingly but i knew it was useless for it is easier to move the stars from their courses than it is to make an obstinate breton talk we walked on for a minute or two in silence where is brigadier durand i asked motioning moment to come out of the wheat which he was trampling as though it was heather as i spoke we came inside of the farther edge of the wheat field and the dark wet mass of cliffs beyond durand is down there you can see him he stands just behind the mirror of saint gildas i see said i and we struck straight down following a sun-baked cattle path across the heather when we reached the edge of the wheat field the behan the mayor of saint gildas called to me and i tucked my gun under my arm and skirted the wheat to where he stood 38 skulls he said in a thin high-pitched voice there is but one more and i'm opposed to further search i suppose fortune told you i shook hands with him and returned the salute of the brigadier durand i'm opposed to further search repeatedly began nervously picking at the mass of silver buttons which covered the front of his velvet and broadcloth...

The Shadows on the Wall Famous Modern Ghost Stories by Dorothy Scarborough.

section 2 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 jc guan famous modern ghost stories compiled by dorothy scarborough section 2 the shadows on the wall by mary e wilkins freeman henry had words with edward in the study the night before edward died said herland glenn she spoke not with acrimony but with grave severity rebecca and glenn gasped by way of ascent she sat in a wide flounge of black silk in the corner of the sofa and rolled terrified eyes from her sister caroline to her sister mrs stephen brickhim who had been emma glenn the one beauty of the family the latter was beautiful still with a large splendid full-blown beauty she filled a great rocking chair with her superb bulk of femininity and swayed gently back and forth her black silks whispering and her black frills fluttering even the shock of death for her brother edward lay dead in the house could not disturb her outward serenity of demeanor but even her expression of masterly placidity changed before her sister caroline's announcement and her sister rebecca anne's gasp of terror and distress and response i think henry might have controlled his temper when poor edward was so near his end she said with an aspirity which disturbs slightly the rosie at curves of her beautiful mouth of course he did not know murmured rebecca anne in a faint stone of course he did not know it said caroline quickly she turned on her sister with a strange sharp look of suspicion then she shrank as if from the other's possible answer rebecca gasped again the married sister mrs emma burgum was now sitting up straight in her chair she had ceased rocking and was eyeing them both intently with a sudden accentuation of family likeness in her face what do you mean said she impartially to them both then she too seemed to shrink before a possible answer she even laughed an invasive sort of laugh nobody means anything said caroline firmly she rose and crossed the room toward the door with grim decisiveness where are you going asked mrs brigham i have something to say to replied caroline and the others at once knew by her term that she had some solemn and sad duty to perform in the chamber of death oh said mrs brigham after the door had closed behind caroline she turned to rebecca did henry have many words with him she asked they were talking very loud replied rebecca evasively mrs brigham looked at her she had not resumed rocking she still sat up straight with a slight knitting of intensity in her fair forehead between the pretty rippling curves of her auburn hair did you ever hear anything she asked in the low voice would he glance toward the door i was just across the hall in the south parlor and that door was open and this door jar replied rebecca with a slight flesh then you must have i couldn't help it everything most of it what was it the old story i suppose henry was mad as he always was because edward was living on here for nothing when he had wasted all the money father left him rebecca nodded with a fearful glance at the door when emma spoke again her voice was still more hushed i know how he felt said she it must have looked to him as if edward was living at his expense but he wasn't no he wasn't and edward had a right here according to the terms of father's will and henry ought to have remembered it yes he ought did he say hard things pretty hard from what i've heard what i heard him tell edward that he had no business here at all and he thought he had better go away what did edward say that he would stay here as long as he lived and afterward too if he was a mind to and he would like to see henry get him out and then what then he laughed what did henry say i didn't hear him say anything but but what i saw him when he came out of this room he looked mad...

The horror library is my favourite place to go NOT! I get scared just typing.
Bring a friend and good lighting, or, bring neither and quake under the duvet for these great bedtime stories for the brave!

section one 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 recorded by ken crooker on the web at kencrooker.com famous modern ghost stories compiled by dorothy scarborough section 1 the willows by algernon blackwood

our meal was beyond question a gloomy one and we ate it almost in silence avoiding one another's eyes and keeping the fire bright then we washed up and prepared for the night and once smoking our minds unoccupied with any definite duties the apprehension i had felt all day long became more and more acute it was not then active fear i think but the very vagueness of its origin distressed me far more than if i had been able to take it and face it squarely the curious sound i have likened to the note of a gong became now almost incessant and filled the stillness of the night with a faint continuous ringing rather than a series of distinct notes at one time it was behind and at another time in front of us sometimes i fancied it came from the bushes on our left and then again from the clumps on our right more often it hovered directly overhead like the whirring of wings it was really everywhere at once behind in front at our sides and over our heads completely surrounding us the sound really defies description but nothing within my knowledge is like that ceaseless muffled humming rising off the deserted world of swamps and willows we sat smoking in comparative silence the strain growing every minute greater the worst feature of the situation seemed to me that we did not know what to expect and could therefore make no sort of preparation by way of defense we could anticipate nothing my explanations made in the sunshine moreover now came to haunt me with their foolish and holy unsatisfactory nature and it was more and more clear to me that some kind of plane talk with my companion was inevitable whether i liked it or not after all we had to spend the night together and to sleep in the same tent side by side i saw that i could not get along much longer without the support of his mind and for that of course playing talk was imperative as long as possible however i postponed this little climax and tried to ignore or laugh at the occasional sentences he flung into the emptiness some of these sentences moreover were confoundedly disquieting to me coming as they did to corroborate much that i felt myself corroboration too which made it so much more convincing from a totally different point of view he composed such curious sentences and hurled them at me in such an inconsequential sort of way as though his main line of thought was secret to himself and these fragments were the bits he found it impossible to digest he got rid of them by uttering them speech relieved him it was like being sick there are things about us i'm sure that make for disorder disintegration destruction our destruction he said once while a fire blazed between us we've strayed out of a safe line somewhere and another time when the gong sounds had come nearer ringing much louder than before and directly over our heads he said as though talking to himself i don't think a phonograph would show any record of that the sound doesn't come to me by the ears at all the vibrations reach me in another manner all together and seem to be within me which is precisely how a fourth dimension sound might be supposed to make itself heard i purposely made no reply to this but i sat up a little closer to the fire and peered about me into the darkness the clouds were masked all over the sky and no trace of moonlight came through very still too everything was so that the river and the frogs had things all their own way it has...

One of three to terrify your pants off today!
I am also uploading some spooky gothic merchandise to our download gallery by the artist Vapor.
Oh, and did I mention my new character, a witch bitch with a cauldron for the small parts of victims!

section 1 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 recorded by ken crooker on the web at kencrooker.com famous modern ghost stories compiled by dorothy scarborough section 1 the willows by algernon blackwood

two suddenly i found myself lying awake peering from my sandy mattress through the door of the tent i looked at my watch pinned against the canvas and saw by the bright moonlight that it was past 12 o'clock the threshold of a new day and i had therefore slept a couple of hours the swede was asleep still beside me the wind howled as before something plucked at my heart and made me feel afraid there was a sense of disturbance in my immediate neighborhood i sat up quickly and looked out the trees were swaying violently to and fro as the gusts smote them but our little bit of green canvas lay snugly safe in the hollow for the wind passed over it without meeting enough resistance to make it vicious the feeling of disquieting did not pass however and i crawled quietly out of the tent to see if our belongings were safe i moved carefully so as not to awaken my companion a curious excitement was on me i was halfway out kneeling on all fours when my eye first took in that the tops of the bushes opposite with their moving tracery of leaves made shapes against the sky i sat back on my haunches and stared it was incredible surely but there opposite and slightly above me were shapes of some indeterminate sort among the willows and as the branches swayed in the wind they seemed to group themselves about these shapes forming a series of monstrous outlines that shifted rapidly beneath the moon close about 50 feet in front of me i saw these things my first instinct was to waken my companion that he too might see them but something made me hesitate the sudden realization probably that i should not welcome corroboration and meanwhile i crouched there staring in amazement with smarting eyes i was wide awake i remember saying to myself that i was not dreaming they first became properly visible these huge figures just within the tops of the bushes immense bronze colored moving and wholly independent of the swaying of the branches i saw them plainly and noted now i came to examine them more calmly that they were very much larger than human and indeed that something in their appearance proclaimed them to be not human at all certainly they were not merely the moving tracery of the branches against the moonlight they shifted independently they rose upwards in a continuous stream from earth to sky vanishing utterly as soon as they reached the dark of the sky they were interlaced one with another making a great column and i saw their limbs and huge bodies melting in and out of each other forming this serpentine line that bent and swayed and twisted spirally with the contortions of the wind-tossed trees they were nude fluid shapes passing up the bushes within the leaves almost rising up in a living column into the heavens their faces i never could see unceasingly they poured upwards swaying in great bending curves with a hue of dull bronze upon their skins i stared trying to force every atom of vision from my eyes for a long time i thought they must every moment disappear and resolve themselves into the movements of the branches and prove to be an optical illusion i searched everywhere for a proof of reality when all the while i understood quite well that the standard of reality had changed for the longer i looked the more certain i became that these figures were real and living though perhaps not according to the standards that the camera and the...

A spooky start with today's trilogy of fear. Let us be afraid, we like it because we are strange beasts.
More daily terror every day of the week here at the Tale Teller Mansion!

section one 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 recorded by ken crooker on the web at kencrooker.com famous modern ghost stories compiled by dorothy scarborough section 1 the willows by algernon blackwood

1. after leaving vienna and long before you come to budapest the danube enters a region of singular loneliness and desolation where its waters spread away on all sides regardless of a main channel and the country becomes a swamp for miles upon miles covered by a vast sea of low willow bushes on the big maps this deserted area is painted in a fluffy blue growing fainter in color as it leaves the banks and across it may be seen in large straggling letters the word sumphi meaning marshes in high flood this great acreage of sand shingle beds and willow-grown islands is almost topped by the water but in normal seasons the bushes bend and rustle in the free winds showing their silver leaves to the sunshine in an ever-moving plain of bewildering beauty these willows never attain to the dignity of trees they have no rigid trunks they remain humble bushes with rounded tops and soft outline swaying on slender stems that answer to the least pressure of the wind supple as grasses and so continually shifting that they somehow give the impression that the entire plane is moving and alive for the wind sends waves rising and falling over the whole surface waves of leaves instead of waves of water green swells like the sea too until the branches turn and lift and then silvery white as their underside turns to the sun happy to slip beyond the control of stern banks the danube here wanders about at will among the intricate network of channels intersecting the islands everywhere with broad avenues down which the waters pour with a shouting sound making whirlpools eddies and foaming rapids tearing at the sandy banks carrying away masses of shore and willow clumps and forming new islands innumerable which shift daily in size and shape and possess at best an impermanent life since the flood time obliterates their very existence properly speaking this fascinating part of the river's life begins soon after leaving pressburg and we in our canadian canoe with gypsy tent and frying pan on board reached it on the crest of a rising flood about mid-july that very same morning when the sky was reddening before sunrise we had slipped swiftly through still sleeping vienna leaving it a couple of hours later a mere patch of smoke against the blue hills of the weiner wald on the horizon we had breakfasted below fishermen under a grove of birch trees roaring in the wind and had then swept on the tearing current past orth heinberg petronel the old roman carnotum of marcus aurelius and so under the frowning heights of theben on a spur of the carpathians where the march steals in quietly from the left and the frontier is crossed between austria and hungary racing along at 12 kilometers an hour soon took us well into hungary and the muddy waters sure sign of flood sent us a ground on many a shingle bed and twisted us like a cork in many a sudden belching whirlpool before the towers of pressburg hungarian pozoni showed against the sky and then the canoe leaping like a spirited horse flew at top speed under the gray walls negotiated safely the sunken chain of the fleijon brook fairy turned the corner sharply to the left and plunged on yellow foam into the wilderness of islands sandbanks and swampland beyond the land of the willows

the change came suddenly as when a series of bioscope pictures snaps down on the streets of a town and shifts without warning into the scenery of lake and forest we entered the land of...

It is all over, until the next coffee break.

Free stories all day long here at the Tale Teller Club Book Store.
All welcome but be warned, these stories are scary.

LibriVox volunteers present a dramatic recording of The Ghost Breaker by Charles Goddard and Paul Dickey. Dramatic Reading read by a full cast. The Ghost Breaker is a drama and haunted house horror complete with heroes, villains, and a Princess. The Ghost Breaker was originally a screenplay and would later be made a drama film directed by Cecil B. DeMille. (Summary by Linette Geisel) Cast:
Narrator: Linette Geisel
Warren; Ghost Breaker and Kentuckian hero: Bill Mosley
Maria Theresa, Princess of Aragon: Amanda Friday
Rusty Snow; Warren's servant man: Phil Chenevert
Carlos, Duke of Alva, cousin of Maria Theresa: Marty Kris
Colonel Jarvis of Meadow Green (older voice): Marty Kris
Mandy; Colonel Jarvis's servant woman: Jenny Lundak
Doctor: Chuck Williamson
Major Selby: Nathanial W.C. Higgins
Hotel Page: Marty Kris
Colonel Jim Marcum, wealthy and prominent Kentucky sportsman: Jerry James
Brazilian coffee merchant: Amy Gramour
Detective 1: David Olson
Detective 2 ToddHW
Nita; Chic young Spanish servant to Maria Theresa: Abigail Bartels
Ship's Porter: Lucy Perry
Ship's Steward: Chuck Williamson
Ship's Officer: Barry Eads
Ship's Captain: Kevin Soini
Scotland Yard Detective: Barry Eads
Senorita Deloris, daughter of Senor Vardos: Heather Hamtil
Senor Pedro, tavern keeper: ToddHW
Don Robledo: Nathanial W.C. Higgins
Human Battleship: Liberty Stump
Vardos, Prince's Retainer: ToddHW

the ghostbreaker a novel based upon the play by charles goddard and paul dickey this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org chapter 17 conclusion rusty had dived under the table the great sword of the armored figure was swinging swiftly up in the air and jarvis leaped with all the sinewy strength of his young manhood it was none too soon the great damascus blade struck fire from the stone balustrade where he had set a second before jarvis spun about and his automatic barked with the instinct of the born fighting man he fired for the heart this was his error the bullet spattered off the angle-braced breastplate down the steps came the horrid figure raising the great sword again the lead-in shower did not halt the clanging monster as the iron-clad advanced he remembered now that rusty had two more revolvers but rusty was scuttling on hands and knees for the shelter of the turret entrance across the room in desperation jarvis threw his revolver at the head of the assailant it was a futile pebble toss the weapon clattered against the metal visor and bounced off as the weird assailant ran within striking distance for the first time in his life came the sensation of helplessness and a fight there was a numbing feeling of horror as he recoiled before this thing his back touched the stone wall just as the quick figure made a forward step and struck again the sword rang out against the rock but the hand that held that weapon knew how to wield it with determination jarvis had dropped to his knees and imitated rusty's escape until he was out of reach he might have grappled but the thought came too late he saw the ancient weapons on the wall there was a great polax this was the instrument made for the man at arms to withstand the noble knight in the days of old he whirled it on high as the other came toward him the double-edged sword rose high to parry the stroke and the sharp weapon clove through the rotten wood hell time had disarmed the american again a deep chested laugh came from the human battleship warren laughed back in the face of death the old jarvis fighting laugh was a tradition in kentucky his next weapon was a chair with this as a guard he...