Очень страшные истории / Best Horror Stories

Оглавление

Эдгар Аллан По. Очень страшные истории / Best Horror Stories

E.F. Benson. The Room in the Tower

Ambrose Bierce. The Boarded Window

John Bartine’s Watch. Story by a Physician

Arthur Conan Doyle. Lot No. 249

Francis Marion Crawford. The Upper Berth

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Montague Rhodes James

‘Oh, Whistle, and I’ll Come to You, My Lad’

The Ash-tree

Edgar Allan Poe

William Wilson

The Black Cat

Bram Stoker. The Judge’s House

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A certain friend of mine, living abroad, is amiable enough to write to me about once in a fortnight. Thus, when fourteen days or thereabouts have elapsed since I last heard from him, my mind, probably, either consciously or subconsciously, is expectant of a letter from him. One night last week I dreamed that as I was going upstairs to dress for dinner I heard, as I often heard, the sound of the postman’s knock on my front door, and diverted my direction downstairs instead. There, among other correspondence, was a letter from him. Thereafter the fantastic entered, for on opening it I found inside the ace of diamonds,[1] and scribbled across it in his well-known handwriting, ‘I am sending you this for safe custody, as you know it is running an unreasonable risk to keep aces in Italy.’ The next evening I was just preparing to go upstairs to dress when I heard the postman’s knock, and did precisely as I had done in my dream. There, among other letters, was one from my friend. Only it did not contain the ace of diamonds. Had it done so, I should have attached more weight to the matter, which, as it stands, seems to me a perfectly ordinary coincidence. No doubt I consciously or subconsciously expected a letter from him, and this suggested to me my dream. Similarly, the fact that my friend had not written to me for a fortnight suggested to him that he should do so. But occasionally it is not so easy to find such an explanation, and for the following story I can find no explanation at all. It came out of the dark, and into the dark it has gone again.

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Subsequently the body was again secretly dug up, and the coffin was found to be full of blood.

‘If you please, sir,’ said he, as he tidied down the top chamber one morning, ‘do you think Mr. Bellingham is all right, sir?’

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