Step into the shadowy realm of "Poe's Nightmares," a mesmerizing collection of short stories and poetry penned by the enigmatic Lady Eckland. This anthology is a tribute to the master of the macabre, Edgar Allan Poe, whose spectral whisper resonates...
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The ancient house crouched atop the windswept moor, a place haunted by restless spirits and unsettled deeds. Its turret stabbed at the gloom and the windows stared like vacant eyes, watching and waiting.
A lone car rattled up the overgrown drive, three passengers within anticipating the reunion ahead with mingled dread and curiosity. They were Richard, Elizabeth and Samuel, summoned to this foreboding abode from their comfortable lives many miles away. Lives afforded by their once close acquaintance to the house's notorious occupant, the reclusive Mr. Cavor Williams.
20 years prior, when brighter prospects danced before them, an ill-considered scheme was hatched between these three friends and Cavor, an ambitious plan that went terribly awry. Though events were hushed up in the aftermath, all had prospered from that misbegotten exploit save Cavor, who retreated from society to dwell alone amidst the decaying grandeur of his family estate. Scandal and rumour clung to him now like tattered cobwebs.
Why had he called them here after so long? The message was cryptic yet urgent. Unfinished business, it said. An old score to settle from those youthful days. Richard, Elizabeth and Samuel had come, partly out of loyalty, partly out of wariness at what trouble awaited them.
As the car halted before that imposing edifice with its weathered sandstone façade, Richard sighed. “Well, here we are. Back again.”
The oak door swung open before they knocked. Cavor himself stood outlined against the gloom beyond, a tall skeletal figure draped in black. With a wordless beckoning gesture he retreated inside. After a moment’s hesitation, his former comrades stepped over the threshold into the shadows within.
What they found was a house long bereft of care or comfort. Their footsteps echoed across barren floors, tapestries hung in tattered ribbons and mould bloomed in dank corners. Cavor led them to a salon lit by guttering candles and bade them sit. His piercing gaze found each of their faces in turn as he took his own high-backed chair by the hearth.
“My friends, we have matters to discuss after too long apart.” His voice was thin and rasping. “Doubtless you wonder at my invitation here and why I choose this night of all nights to renew our old acquaintance.”
The three guests shifted uneasily. Samuel cleared his throat. “Cavor, perhaps it would be best...”
“Please, let me speak!” Their host raised a pallid hand for silence. “I asked you here so we might together make amends for that mischief we once Stirred up with such blithe irresponsibility.” His sunken eyes gleamed. “Do you recall what I mean?”
The group exchanged troubled glances. The episode he meant had faded mercifully into the past until now. Richard essayed a reply, keeping his tone neutral. “We made some...unwise decisions back then. Rash things, done in haste. I’m sure we all regret...”
“Regrets are not enough!” Cavor slammed his fist upon the arm of his chair, causing them all to flinch. “What was awakened by our actions cannot be laid to rest by mere apologies or excuses. We must make restitution, we four! Did you not feel it, out there in those lonely woods where we cast that damned ritual? The thing we wrenched halfway into this world with our spell? It has dwelt here ever since, with me, growing stronger as the veil between its world and ours frays further.”
