“I put a sour cherry pastille on my tongue, but the combination jarred. A meaty, protein taste was called for. With a cool skin, sticky sweet fragrance in the nostrils, the aleatory drip of timeless water echoing in your ears, a limbo beyond the muscle spindles... you become a spiced mummy in a cool chamber beneath the Nile. This salt-surfeited breeze tingling every corpuscle of my skin set me adrift on a cool back eddy near a basser sea... but the wave lap and sibilance of the palm leaves was like the rustle of a costly veil... in what exotic world did a vortex of primary colours drain into the eyes?... did it all make me a taffeted plankter drinking substance from the spectrum of a fractured sun?"
-"Cancerous Kisses of Crocodiles”
―
-"Cancerous Kisses of Crocodiles”
―
“The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood
This Eastertide call into mind the men,
Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should
Have gathered them and will do never again.”
―
This Eastertide call into mind the men,
Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should
Have gathered them and will do never again.”
―
“. . . in a strange land, on the borders of Chymerie . . . the god of sleep made his house . . . which of the sun may naught have, so no man may know aright the point between day and night. . . Round about there is growing on the ground, poppy which is the seed of sleep . . . a still water . . . runs upon the small stones . . . which gives great appetite for sleep. And thus full of delight the god of sleep has his house.”
―
―
“The world of shadows and superstition that was Victorian England, so well depicted in this 1871 tale, was unique. While the foundations of so much of our present knowledge of subjects like medicine, public health, electricity, chemistry and agriculture, were being, if not laid, at least mapped out, people could still believe in the existence of devils and demons. And why not? A good ghost story is pure entertainment. It was not until well into the twentieth century that ghost stories began to have a deeper significance and to become allegorical; in fact, to lose their charm. No mental effort is required to read 'The Weird Woman', no seeking for hidden meanings; there are no complexities of plot, no allegory on the state of the world. And so it should be. At what other point in literary history could a man, standing over the body of his fiancee, say such a line as this:
'Speak, hound! Or, by heaven, this night shall witness two murders instead of one!'
Those were the days.
(introduction to "The Weird Woman")”
― Terror by Gaslight: More Victorian Tales of Terror
'Speak, hound! Or, by heaven, this night shall witness two murders instead of one!'
Those were the days.
(introduction to "The Weird Woman")”
― Terror by Gaslight: More Victorian Tales of Terror
Valancourt Books
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This ia a group for discussing the works of Robert Aickman, a master crasftsman of weird, strange tales. If you are interested in discussing and disse ...more
Terion’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Terion’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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