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- Herausgeber: SAMPI Books
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
In "Graveyard Rats" by Robert E. Howard, detective Steve Harrison investigates a series of bizarre events linked to a desecrated grave. As he unravels the mystery, he encounters madness, murder, and swarms of grotesque cemetery rats that seem driven by more than hunger. Trapped between human evil and supernatural horror, Harrison must fight for his life beneath the haunted earth.
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Seitenzahl: 44
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Graveyard Rats
Robert E. Howard
SYNOPSIS
In “Graveyard Rats” by Robert E. Howard, detective Steve Harrison investigates a series of bizarre events linked to a desecrated grave. As he unravels the mystery, he encounters madness, murder, and swarms of grotesque cemetery rats that seem driven by more than hunger. Trapped between human evil and supernatural horror, Harrison must fight for his life beneath the haunted earth.
Keywords
Madness, Revenge, Investigation
NOTICE
This text is a work in the public domain and reflects the norms, values and perspectives of its time. Some readers may find parts of this content offensive or disturbing, given the evolution in social norms and in our collective understanding of issues of equality, human rights and mutual respect. We ask readers to approach this material with an understanding of the historical era in which it was written, recognizing that it may contain language, ideas or descriptions that are incompatible with today's ethical and moral standards.
Names from foreign languages will be preserved in their original form, with no translation.
Chapter I:The Head from the Grave
Saul Wilkinson awoke suddenly, and lay in the darkness with beads of cold sweat on his hands and face. He shuddered at the memory of the dream from which he had awakened.
But horrible dreams were nothing uncommon. Grisly nightmares had haunted his sleep since early childhood. It was another fear that clutched his heart with icy fingers-fear of the sound that had roused him. It had been a furtive step-hands fumbling in the dark.
And now a small scurrying sounded in the room-a rat running back and forth across the floor.
He groped under his pillow with trembling fingers. The house was still, but imagination peopled its darkness with shapes of horror. But it was not all imagination. A faint stir of air told him the door that gave on the broad hallway was open. He knew he had closed that door before he went to bed. And he knew it was not one of his brothers who had come so subtly to his room.
In that fear-tense, hate-haunted household, no man came by night to his brother's room without first making himself known.
This was especially the case since an old feud had claimed the eldest brother four days since-John Wilkinson, shot down in the streets of the little hill-country town by Joel Middleton, who had escaped into the post oak grown hills, swearing still greater vengeance against the Wilkinsons.
All this flashed through Saul's mind as he drew the revolver from under his pillow.
As he slid out of bed, the creak of the springs brought his heart into his throat, and he crouched there for a moment, holding his breath and straining his eyes into the darkness.
Richard was sleeping upstairs, and so was Harrison, the city detective Peter had brought out to hunt down Joel Middleton. Peter's room was on the ground floor, but in another wing. A yell for help might awaken all three, but it would also bring a hail of lead at him, if Joel Middleton were crouching over there in the blackness.
Saul knew this was his fight, and must be fought out alone, in the darkness he had always feared and hated. And all the time sounded that light, scampering patter of tiny feet, racing up and down, up and down ...
Crouching against the wall, cursing the pounding of his heart, Saul fought to steady his quivering nerves. He was backed against the wall which formed the partition between his room and the hall.
The windows were faint gray squares in the blackness, and he could dimly make out objects of furniture in all except one side of the room. Joel Middleton must be over there, crouching by the old fireplace, which was invisible in the darkness.
But why was he waiting? And why was that accursed rat racing up and down before the fireplace, as if in a frenzy of fear and greed? Just so Saul had seen rats race up and down the floor of the meat-house, frantic to get at flesh suspended out of reach.
Noiselessly, Saul moved along the wall toward the door. If a man was in the room, he would presently be lined between himself and a window. But as he glided along the wall like a night-shirted ghost, no ominous bulk grew out of the darkness. He reached the door and closed it soundlessly, wincing at his nearness to the unrelieved blackness of the hall outside.
But nothing happened. The only sounds were the wild beating of his heart, the loud ticking of the old clock on the mantelpiece-the maddening patter of the unseen rat. Saul clenched his teeth against the shrieking of his tortured nerves. Even in his growing terror he found time to wonder frantically why that rat ran up and down before the fireplace.
The tension became unbearable. The open door proved that Middleton, or someone-or something-had come into that room. Why would Middleton come save to kill? But why in God's name had he not struck already? What was he waiting for?
Saul's nerve snapped suddenly. The darkness was strangling him and those pattering rat-feet were red-hot hammers on his crumbling brain. He must have light, even though that light brought hot lead ripping through him.
