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Enoch
"He wants me to kill people for him. Enoch. The thing that lives on the top of my head. I can't see him. I can't catch him. I can only feel him, and hear him, and obey him..."
8 pages, ebook
First published September 1, 1946
4 people are currently reading
79 people want to read
About the author
Robert Bloch
1,091 books1,286 followersRobert Albert Bloch was a prolific American writer. He was the son of Raphael "Ray" Bloch (1884, Chicago-1952, Chicago), a bank cashier, and his wife Stella Loeb (1880, Attica, Indiana-1944, Milwaukee, WI), a social worker, both of German-Jewish descent.
Bloch wrote hundreds of short stories and over twenty novels, usually crime fiction, science fiction, and, perhaps most influentially, horror fiction (Psycho). He was one of the youngest members of the Lovecraft Circle; Lovecraft was Bloch's mentor and one of the first to seriously encourage his talent.
He was a contributor to pulp magazines such as Weird Tales in his early career, and was also a prolific screenwriter. He was the recipient of the Hugo Award (for his story "That Hell-Bound Train"), the Bram Stoker Award, and the World Fantasy Award. He served a term as president of the Mystery Writers of America.
Robert Bloch was also a major contributor to science fiction fanzines and fandom in general. In the 1940s, he created the humorous character Lefty Feep in a story for Fantastic Adventures. He also worked for a time in local vaudeville, and tried to break into writing for nationally-known performers. He was a good friend of the science fiction writer Stanley G. Weinbaum. In the 1960's, he wrote 3 stories for Star Trek.
Bloch wrote hundreds of short stories and over twenty novels, usually crime fiction, science fiction, and, perhaps most influentially, horror fiction (Psycho). He was one of the youngest members of the Lovecraft Circle; Lovecraft was Bloch's mentor and one of the first to seriously encourage his talent.
He was a contributor to pulp magazines such as Weird Tales in his early career, and was also a prolific screenwriter. He was the recipient of the Hugo Award (for his story "That Hell-Bound Train"), the Bram Stoker Award, and the World Fantasy Award. He served a term as president of the Mystery Writers of America.
Robert Bloch was also a major contributor to science fiction fanzines and fandom in general. In the 1940s, he created the humorous character Lefty Feep in a story for Fantastic Adventures. He also worked for a time in local vaudeville, and tried to break into writing for nationally-known performers. He was a good friend of the science fiction writer Stanley G. Weinbaum. In the 1960's, he wrote 3 stories for Star Trek.
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
April 19, 2021
In this nasty story we learn why Seth sometimes has to kill people. His latest kill, a girl, gets him arrested. But it is something else that drives him to those terrible deeds: Enoch. Is it real of just the fantasy of a madman. Who might Enoch be? Read the story and find out. Absolute gem directly out of the Twilight Zone. Really recommended!
April 29, 2024
Desarrollas una relación tóxica con un demonio bíblico con problemas de ira que se te mete en la cabeza y te obliga a matar a gente
October 8, 2017
A fantastically messed-up, creepy short story.
November 18, 2025
Robert Bloch’s Enoch stands at the intersection of psychological horror and cosmic dread, a tale that reveals its terror not through spectacle but through the slow tightening of atmosphere.
Coming from the author best known for Psycho, one might expect violence or overt madness, but Enoch operates on a quieter, stranger wavelength. It is a story of possession—not merely demonic, but existential—where a man’s solitude becomes the entry point for an older, colder intelligence that seeks a vessel.
Bloch approaches the theme with both pulp vigor and a surprising psychological sophistication, demonstrating his ability to fuse plot-driven horror with the internal unraveling of a mind under siege.
The protagonist, Mr. Tilbury, is a lonely, increasingly withdrawn man whose life seems to be drifting toward insignificance. Bloch cleverly uses this social invisibility as the story’s hinge: isolation makes Tilbury a perfect target.
His inner life is guarded, fragile, easily overshadowed by more forceful personalities—and when he encounters the mysterious figure known as Enoch, that imbalance intensifies. Bloch never fully explains what Enoch is; instead, he treats him as a presence, an absence, a shadow that moves with human shape but carries something far older than human consciousness.
One of Bloch’s most effective techniques is the gradual erosion of Tilbury’s boundaries. First comes fascination, then complicity, then the alarming sense that Enoch is speaking through him, thinking through him, pushing him aside.
The horror lies in the incremental: a thought that is not his, a voice that seems to echo inside his skull, a creeping suspicion that he is no longer alone inside his own mind. Bloch understands that the loss of self is far more terrifying than any monster, and he builds the narrative around this psychological disintegration.
The settings reinforce this claustrophobia. Rooms feel too small, the streets too quiet, the world too indifferent to notice that Tilbury is slipping out of it. Bloch’s prose punctuates this with moments of sharp clarity—images that flash like a knife in the dark, hinting at the inhuman intelligence that has found its way into Tilbury’s life. What Enoch wants is never fully articulated; the unknown becomes the source of terror. Much like Lovecraft’s cosmic horror, Bloch suggests that some beings or forces perceive humans not with malice but with total indifference. Tilbury is simply available.
The final stages of the possession are deeply unsettling. Tilbury feels his own thoughts becoming foreign. His memories slip. His desires warp. Enoch becomes not a parasite but a replacement. By the time the story reaches its climax, Tilbury’s voice—once meek but recognizably human—has become a hollow echo in a mind increasingly overtaken by something else. Bloch avoids melodrama; the transformation is chilling precisely because it feels inevitable.
The story’s conclusion offers no triumph, no restoration of identity. Instead, Bloch leaves the reader with a sense of existential dread: how fragile the self is, how porous the boundaries of consciousness can be, and how loneliness can become the crack through which the unimaginable slips. Enoch is a small gem of psychological horror, lean and relentless, a reminder that the scariest monsters are the ones that steal not our lives but our minds.
Coming from the author best known for Psycho, one might expect violence or overt madness, but Enoch operates on a quieter, stranger wavelength. It is a story of possession—not merely demonic, but existential—where a man’s solitude becomes the entry point for an older, colder intelligence that seeks a vessel.
Bloch approaches the theme with both pulp vigor and a surprising psychological sophistication, demonstrating his ability to fuse plot-driven horror with the internal unraveling of a mind under siege.
The protagonist, Mr. Tilbury, is a lonely, increasingly withdrawn man whose life seems to be drifting toward insignificance. Bloch cleverly uses this social invisibility as the story’s hinge: isolation makes Tilbury a perfect target.
His inner life is guarded, fragile, easily overshadowed by more forceful personalities—and when he encounters the mysterious figure known as Enoch, that imbalance intensifies. Bloch never fully explains what Enoch is; instead, he treats him as a presence, an absence, a shadow that moves with human shape but carries something far older than human consciousness.
One of Bloch’s most effective techniques is the gradual erosion of Tilbury’s boundaries. First comes fascination, then complicity, then the alarming sense that Enoch is speaking through him, thinking through him, pushing him aside.
The horror lies in the incremental: a thought that is not his, a voice that seems to echo inside his skull, a creeping suspicion that he is no longer alone inside his own mind. Bloch understands that the loss of self is far more terrifying than any monster, and he builds the narrative around this psychological disintegration.
The settings reinforce this claustrophobia. Rooms feel too small, the streets too quiet, the world too indifferent to notice that Tilbury is slipping out of it. Bloch’s prose punctuates this with moments of sharp clarity—images that flash like a knife in the dark, hinting at the inhuman intelligence that has found its way into Tilbury’s life. What Enoch wants is never fully articulated; the unknown becomes the source of terror. Much like Lovecraft’s cosmic horror, Bloch suggests that some beings or forces perceive humans not with malice but with total indifference. Tilbury is simply available.
The final stages of the possession are deeply unsettling. Tilbury feels his own thoughts becoming foreign. His memories slip. His desires warp. Enoch becomes not a parasite but a replacement. By the time the story reaches its climax, Tilbury’s voice—once meek but recognizably human—has become a hollow echo in a mind increasingly overtaken by something else. Bloch avoids melodrama; the transformation is chilling precisely because it feels inevitable.
The story’s conclusion offers no triumph, no restoration of identity. Instead, Bloch leaves the reader with a sense of existential dread: how fragile the self is, how porous the boundaries of consciousness can be, and how loneliness can become the crack through which the unimaginable slips. Enoch is a small gem of psychological horror, lean and relentless, a reminder that the scariest monsters are the ones that steal not our lives but our minds.
November 3, 2024
3.5 this is freaky it reminds me of when you think there's a spider on you but it's just hair or whatever. also like surprise! he's not mentally ill!!
October 30, 2023
A take on the "crazy guy does crazy things" story that Bloch puts his own spin on. The twist at the end isn't new but it's done incredibly well. The character of Enoch is so creepy and well-developed as well, it just makes your skin crawl.
Grade: A
Recommended for: Any short horror fans
Grade: A
Recommended for: Any short horror fans
January 2, 2020
Not many stories scare me so much that I can remember every point plot a month later. This one does. A new explanation for mass murderers is offered.
December 19, 2025
Originally published in Weird
Tales in 1946. Then re-printed
in Fiends and Creatures in 1975.
I am not somebody who normally
reads scary/horror short stories
in general. However, I did read
this and I think it is one of the
best scary short stories I have
ever read.
I would also say it is one of the
best short stories I have ever
read and I have read a ton of short
stories in general.
Tales in 1946. Then re-printed
in Fiends and Creatures in 1975.
I am not somebody who normally
reads scary/horror short stories
in general. However, I did read
this and I think it is one of the
best scary short stories I have
ever read.
I would also say it is one of the
best short stories I have ever
read and I have read a ton of short
stories in general.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews