Showing results by publisher "Bookstream Audiobooks" in Paranormal & Urban

Whatever doubt may still envelop the rationale of mesmerism, its startling facts are now almost universally admitted. Of these latter, those who doubt, are your mere doubters by profession—an unprofitable and disreputable tribe.

"The Book" is an unfinished short story by American horror fiction writer H. P. Lovecraft, believed to have been written in late 1933. It was first published in the journal "Leaves" in 1938, after Lovecraft's death. In the story fragment, the narrator is given an ancient book by a strange bookseller, and when he takes it home and examines it, weird and sinister events ensue. In October 1933, Lovecraft wrote in a letter: I am at a sort of standstill in writing disgusted at much of my older work, and uncertain as to avenues of improvement.

"Mirror Dead" is a thoroughly contemporary novel which demonstrates the rude health of the ghost story at the beginning of the twenty-first century. When Simon falls for fairytale-obsessed Rose, he sees a chance to move on from his girlfriend's death the year before. But can he trust Gray, the cross-dressing ghost of his twin brother, who shares his body and sees Rose as lunch? They set out to infiltrate her life, but soon find that they have bitten off more than either of them can chew. Rose has thorns. Her psycho ex is one of them.

Maria said to him, 'I'd be tempted to rent the house for just this one room.' 'It is lovely, yes.' 'The way the light comes in from that window, through the curtains on to the plain walls . . .

Mr Gabo was an unlikely looking author, but then most of their authors were unlikely looking. Asphodel Books always attracted the improbable.

My father was one of seven boys and all of them married young and went on to have large families of their own. Consequently I ended up with more uncles and aunts than I have ever been comfortable with, and the number of cousins was almost incalculable.

Birgit made the mistake of sitting down and closing her eyes for a few moments. She knew she shouldn't have done it because when she opened them again and tried to stand the room reeled around her.

I had to go outside. The air in the room had grown almost unbreathable from the cloying smoke; a mixture of hashish and incense. Normally I revelled in such an atmosphere, in the artificial light and warmth.

: She was an odd-looking, insubstantial little thing; ill at ease in their company, sipping determinedly at a sparkling water that didn't seem to get any lower in her glass. Her attention was firmly fixed upon it.

I spent nearly forty years working for the District Council in their Housing Department, and now that I've retired I look back and wonder whether I wasted my life there?

Up until the moment I approached the door everything had been effortless. My connections from Amsterdam to Bialystok had been on time, and there, at the airport, had been my old friend David to greet me.

Justin had been humiliated many times in front of his fellow students. On a regular basis they were all made to put their work up on the studio wall for a Criticism, when their tutors would patiently explain exactly how and why their art failed.

The story begins with the narrator describing the night sky as observed over long sleepless nights from his window, in particular that of the Pole Star, Polaris, which he describes as "winking hideously like an insane watching eye which strives to convey some strange message, yet recalls nothing save that it once had a message to convey". He then describes the night of the aurora over his house in the swamp, and how on this night he first dreamed of a city of marble lying on a plateau between two peaks, with Polaris above in the night sky.