Friday, December 26, 2014


' "And what were they like? Do tell us!" said Algernon and Wilfred eagerly.
"Rags and bones, young gentlemen: all four of 'em: flutterin' rags and whity bones. It seemed to me as if I could hear 'em clackin' as they got along. Very slow they went, and lookin' from side to side."

"What were their faces like? Could you see?"

"They hadn't much to call faces," said the shepherd, "but I could seem to see as they had teeth." 

"He looked at the field, and there he saw a terrible figure — something in ragged black — with whitish patches breaking out of it: the head, perched on a long thin neck, half hidden by a shapeless sort of blackened sun-bonnet. The creature was waving thin arms in the direction of the rescuer who was approaching, as if to ward him off: and between the two figures the air seemed to shake and shimmer as he had never seen it: and as he looked, he began himself to feel something of a waviness and confusion in his brain, which made him guess what might be the effect on someone within closer range of the influence."
M.R.James, The Wailing Well

Thursday, December 25, 2014


"Suddenly, he began to hear a faint sweeping or rustling noise approaching over the carpet. He turned half over, nothing to be seen. The room being, as I said, very fairly light by reason of the strong moonlight outside. It came to the side of the bed, then a pause, next a very slight stretching of the bedclothes over his legs towards the outside of the bed. Much as if a kitten had jumped up. Harry was not much affected by this but on the alert. The next phenomenon was the touch on the bare back of his neck of something bristly. So much so that it pricked the skin. He whipped over in the bed thoroughly frightened and to just time to see a very strange object against the white window blind before it disappeared. It was long and sharply crooked in the midst. He could only describe it by saying that it was like a very long finger covered thickly with short hairs. He was out of bed in a second, had a candle lighted and searched the room thoroughly. The door was fastened and the window shut and there was no sign of man or beast in any corner."

"And then straight upon that, two sharp points had been plunged into his neck. He had cried out and clutched with his hands at the spot only to feel something hairy, which pricked his fingers and seemed to melt away under them."

"'What in the world is this on the table in the picture? Why, it's an enormous spider.'"

"And so it was, painted there no doubt as the emblem of industry or avarice or both."
 M.R.James, Speaker Lenthall's Tomb

Wednesday, December 24, 2014


 "At first you saw only a mass of coarse, matted black hair; presently it was seen that this covered a body of fearful thinness, almost a skeleton, but with the muscles standing out like wires. The hands were of a dusky pallor, covered, like the body, with long, coarse hairs, and hideously taloned. The eyes, touched in with a burning yellow, had intensely black pupils, and were fixed upon the throned King with a look of beast-like hate. Imagine one of the awful bird-catching spiders of South America translated into human form, and endowed with intelligence just less than human, and you will have some faint conception of the terror inspired by the appalling effigy."

"There was black and tattered drapery about it; the coarse hair covered it as in the drawing. The lower jaw was thin — what can I call it? — shallow, like a beast’s; teeth showed behind the black lips; there was no nose; the eyes, of a fiery yellow, against which the pupils showed black and intense, and the exulting hate and thirst to destroy life which shone there, were the most horrifying features in the whole vision. There was intelligence of a kind in them — intelligence beyond that of a beast, below that of a man."
M.R. James, Canon Alberic's Scrapbook

Tuesday, December 23, 2014


"One was a woodcut of Bewick's, roughly torn out of the page: one which shows a moonlit road and a man walking along it, followed by an awful demon creature."

"So he put his hand into the well-known nook under the pillow: only, it did not get so far. What he touched was, according to his account, a mouth, with teeth, and with hair about it, and, he declares, not the mouth of a human being."

"The man bent over and looked at him. 'The devil? Well, I don't know, I'm sure,' Harrington heard him say to himself, and then aloud, 'My mistake, sir; must have been your rugs! ask your pardon.' And then, to a subordinate near him, ''Ad he got a dog with him, or what? Funny thing: I could 'a' swore 'e wasn't alone.'"
M.R. James, Casting the Runes

Monday, December 22, 2014


"The door was opening again. The seer does not like to dwell upon what he saw entering the room: he says it might be described as a frog – the size of a man – but it had scanty white hair about its head. It was busy about the truckle-beds, but not for long. The sound of cries – faint, as if coming out of a vast distance – but, even so, infinitely appalling, 
reached the ear."
M.R. James, The Haunted Dolls' House

Friday, December 19, 2014

Merry Christmas M.R. James

It's not M.R. James' birthday next week but it is Christmas. And if James is known for anything, it's for his annual "ghost" stories that he would write and read aloud to the Chit Chat Club on Christmas around a fire. So in honor of the master of the ghost story, I'll be posting a full week's worth of monsters next week, including Christmas Day. 

You may notice I put "ghost" in quotes. That's because most of James' stories don't concern actual ghosts but demons, banshees, curses and unnameable horrors. His obssession with church architecture and the history of England add an undeniable sense of reality and place to stories where dark specters lurk in grim atmosphere. 

"At the opposite pole of genius from Lord Dunsany, and gifted with an almost diabolic power of calling horror by gentle steps from the midst of prosaic daily life, is the scholarly Montague Rhodes James, Provost of Eton College, antiquary of note, and recognised authority on mediaeval manuscripts and cathedral history. Dr. James, long fond of telling spectral tales at Christmastide, has become by slow degrees a literary weird fictionist of the very first rank; and has developed a distinctive style and method likely to serve as models for an enduring line of disciples."
H.P. Lovecraft, Supernatural Horror In Literature 


Friday, December 12, 2014


"There  was a skull beside it on the table. Except for a few clinging tatters of dried flesh and greenish fur-the other was bleached white by the sun-this skull was identical to Gradie's Japanese souvenir: a high-domed skull the size of a large, clenched fist, with a jutting, sharp-toothed muzzle. A baboon of some sort, Mercer judged, picking it up."

"'No,' Mercer said dully, glancing at the freshly typed label he had scooped from the table. 'He's boiling off the flesh so he can exhibit the skull.' For the carefully prepared label in his hand read: 'Kudzu Devil Skull. Shot by Red Gradie in Yard, Knoxville, Tenn. June 1977'"

"'They're little green devils,' Gradie raved weakly. 'And they ain't no animals-they're clever as you or me. They live in the kudzu.'"

"'Hiding down there beneath the damn vines, living off the roots and whatever they can scavenge. They nurture the goddamn stuff, he said, help it spread around, care for it just like a man looks after his garden. Winter comes, they burrow down underneath the soil and hibernate.'"
Karl Edward Wagner, Where the Summer Ends

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Happy Birthday Karl Edward Wagner

This Friday is Karl Edward Wagner's birthday. To celebrate, I'll be posting a creature from his amazing story Where the Summer Ends. 

Wagner was a strange dude. He started off his professional career as a psychiatrist but then became known to the weird fiction world for his anarchistic biker attitude and appearance. 

His short story Sticks is known as one of the best Mythos stories, his Kane character is widely accepted as one of the best anti-heroes in the sword and sorcery genre and he's responsible for excising L. Sprague DeCamp's clumsy attempts at continuity from Howard's Conan stories and restoring them to the original text. On top of all that he was also known as a fantastic editor, having helmed  The Year's Best Horror for 15 years.

He's also full of great quotes

On choosing content for YBH:
" I play no favorites with authors. Big Name Pro has the same shot as first story small press writer. I’ve run stories by Stephen King, and I’ve run stories by writers who may have never written another story. I have maintained this attitude for fifteen years as editor: No taboos. No holds barred. No free rides. Excellence required. Whiners piss off."

On why horror is so popular:
That question does get asked a lot and I've thought about it a lot and I know the answer. Because it's sex. It's dirty, smutty stuff, there's subliminal messages hidden in there. If you read Frankenstein backwards.... (applause/laughter) So now you know. If you take close ups, photographs, I've seen this done, of simple words in these horror books, you can see suggestive shapes and poses. The paper on which these things are printed has been imprinted with a subtle aphrodisiac. If you turn the pages you're already a lost soul."

On Lovecraft:
"To my mind, what’s im­pressive about Lovecraft is his profound cosmic negativism: the idea that mankind is confronted by horrors that are completely beyond his comprehension, forces against which he is powerless, and when he begins to realize these horrors exist, they inevitably destroy him."
Karl Edward Wagner interviewed by Dr. Elliot, July 1981


Tuesday, December 9, 2014


"There was a monstrous creature encased halfway in the solid ice. It had large unlidded eyes, milky white; its mouth wide and round, its scaled flesh reflecting light dully. Where its neck might have been was a ring of purplish pustules, circling the fusion of its ichthyic skull to its tendonous body. Chunked squid limbs lay outstretched, uncontrollable in its death."
Simon Strantzas, On Ice

Monday, December 8, 2014

Happy Birthday Simon Strantzas

Tomorrow is Simon Strantzas birthday and to celebrate I'll be posting a drawing of a creature from his short story On Ice from his collection Burnt Black Suns.

Toronto based, Strantzas has written four collections thus far and the praise for them is astounding. I've only read two (Cold To the Touch and Burnt Black Suns) but I loved them and plan on reading the rest. He's also edited two collections, Aickman's Heirs (out next year) & Shadows Edge.

Up until now, the birthday posts I've done have been older, mostly dead, authors. But if there's one thing (aside from monsters!) that I'd like to do on this blog, it's introduce people to modern authors that are upholding the traditions of the weirdos we all know and love from the 30's. Right now, there is a huge boom of great, interesting and diverse horror fiction. My Nyarlathotep project is another way I'm hoping to help spread the word about these folks (at some point I'll post my reading list from this year). But if you haven't read any of these modern authors, I honestly can't recommend them enough.

Friday, December 5, 2014


Hey everyone! Just a quick update about next week. 

There will be TWO birthday posts for two of my favorite weird fiction authors. 
One current and one past, both really awesome.

After that there will be a little break before I post the new M.R. James monsters during Christmas week.

Two of Alan Brown's pieces from his zine I See A Shadow Coming in the M.R. James pack

And just a heads up. If you want an M.R. James pack and you want it to arrive before Christmas, now's the time to order. There are only SIX copies left. You can click the link in the previous post or go to the Yog-Blogsoth Store.