Grave Beginnings: 6

Posted: October 6th, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: | 1 Comment »

Griswell awoke suddenly, every nerve tingling with a premonition of imminent peril. He stared about wildly, unable at first to remember where he was, or what he was doing there. Moonlight filtered in through the dusty windows, and the great empty room with its lofty ceiling and gaping black fireplace was spectral and unfamiliar. Then as he emerged from the clinging cobwebs of his recent sleep, he remembered where he was and how he came to be there. He twisted his head and stared at his companion, sleeping on the floor near him. John Branner was but a vaguely bulking shape in the darkness that the moon scarcely grayed.

Griswell tried to remember what had awakened him. There was no sound in the house, no sound outside except the mournful hoot of an owl, far away in the piny woods. Now he had captured the illusive memory. It was a dream, a nightmare so filled with dim terror that it had frightened him awake. Recollection flooded back, vividly etching the abominable vision.

Opening paragraphs from Pigeons from Hell
by Robert E. Howard

Loading Facebook Comments ...

One Comment on “Grave Beginnings: 6”

  1. 1 Scott S. said at 8:59 am on October 6th, 2013:

    One of the finest, scariest short stories I’ve ever read. I expected almost nothing from it the first time I read it, because the title seems so silly. And it scared the crap outta me…

Leave a Reply