horror

Dear Charles, I write to you this evening, in the hope that, once you regain the use of your faculties, you will be able to verify my account of the dreadful circumstances surrounding the loss of our expeditionary party. As the only other survivor of the voyage, you are in a unique position to confirm the veracity of events that, in any other circumstance, would be considered the work of one of those dreadful pulp authors that are so popular these days.

‘Twas late one dreadful, droomy night, While trying to forget a fright, I gently sipped a cup of tea, When my wife’s voice floated up to me. “Oh Arthur, dear,” I heard her say, “Some-one has come and gone away. “They left no name, no street address, “Just handed me this rumpled mess.” I took the parcel from her hand And set it ‘top my chair-side stand. Then, once my wife had left the room,