Review of “Seaton’s Aunt” by Walter de la Mare: Halloween Countdown

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For October 24

Plot:

In exchange for a lavish treat, the narrator, Withers, agrees to spend a holiday with an unpopular boy, Arthur Seaton. Seaton appears “yellow” in color, with “slow chocolate-coloured eyes, and lean weak figure.” Because of his appearance, “most… true-blue Englishmen” treat him with condescension, hostility, or contempt.

A day or two before the holiday, Seaton reminds his reluctant houseguest of his promise to stay with him. “My aunt expects you. She’s sure to be quite decent to you.”

When they arrive at Arthur’s home, Miss Seaton greets them and tells Withers (whose name she often mistakes), “Come in, Mr. Withers, and bring him [that is, Arthur] along with you.”

She serves them an extravagant lunch, asking questions about her nephew, such as, “And is Arthur a good boy at school, Mr. Wither [sic]?”

Arthur eats mostly almonds and raisins.

That night, Withers is awakened by a terrified Arthur, warning him about the watchers and that his aunt knows everything he does. Withers dismisses these tales. Arthur insists his aunt barely sleeps. She’s in league with the devil.

To humor him, Withers agrees to sneak with Arthur into his aunt’s bedroom. The room is empty, but before they can leave, they hear her coming and quickly hide in the closet. After she falls asleep, they crawl back to bed. Arthur is beside himself.

They return to school the next day and never speak of the incident. Arthur leaves the school not much later.

They meet twice again as adults, the last time when Arthur is engaged

Thoughts:

This is a strange, sad little story. De la Mare weaves an air of menace around the aunt. At the same time, it’s easy to dismiss—as Withers does—that it was all schoolboy nonsense. At one point, Arthur says that his aunt “as good as killed” his mother. Is there any truth to that? The reader doesn’t know. By the end of the story, it’s credible, but no evidence is ever offered.

Miss Seaton offers sardonic comments, calling Withers “Mr.” when it’s unwarranted and seeking his evaluation of her nephew as if he were an adult. Later, she plays sentimental music for the engaged couple but with a sarcastic tinge.

The horror here is subtle, making the reader uncomfortable, as if things are off-kilter. The aunt’s hatred and abuse of her nephew are real but intangible. No one sees the harm, so it’s easy to disbelieve what Arthur says. After all, he’s not hurting for pocket money, is he?

Some details are not given at the end of the story, but they were never the point. The point, IMseldomHO, had to deal with Withers’ actions or inaction.

To the 21st-century reader, it might appear to meander, but it is nicely told.

Bio: Walter de la Mare (1873-1956) was a prolific UK poet and writer. He wrote hundreds of poems and more than 100 short stories. He wrote sophisticated fantasy and fairy tales for children and ghost and horror stories for adults. H. P. Lovecraft admired his writing. Notable among his works are the novel The Return and the short story collection Eight Tales.


This story can be read here:

This story can be listened to here: (1:19:04)


Title: “Seaton’s Aunt”
Author: Walter de la Mare (1873-1956)
First published: The London Mercury, April 1922
Length: novelette

Review of “The Screaming Skull” by F. Marion Crawford: Halloween Countdown

Image by SplitShire from Pixabay

Plot:

Retired Captain Braddock has come to live in his late cousin Luke Pratt’s house. Cousin Luke was a doctor. His wife pre-deceased him. Their son was killed (in the Boer War?) in South Africa.

Braddock isn’t nervous—so he keeps telling his unnamed houseguest, who is also an old sailor. He’s heard the skull scream often. Hear it now? A noise never hurt anyone.

While Luke and his wife were still alive, Braddock had dinner with them. They were joking, and he told them a story about a gruesome form of murder he’d heard about.

Mrs. Pratt died soon after.

Braddock was saddened when he heard about Mrs. Pratt’s passing. He never meant her any harm. She was a charming, friendly woman. Yet he doesn’t examine the matter too closely. Mrs. Pratt had a heart attack, right? Heart attacks are common enough.

The skull comes into his possession after his cousin’s death. It wants to stay in the best bedroom, in a particular bandbox. Is it Mrs. Pratt’s? Braddock is not positive. After all, the skull might be one Luke came across in his student days… right?

Thoughts:

Crawford borrows a device from Poe: the first-person narrator, who is not at all nervous or guilty about the nefarious goings-on, tells his story. He speaks to a friend, recalling their days on the sea. Braddock admits to his part in the tragedies, though he never bore anyone ill will. What’s the sense in examining the matter too closely? The skull hates him, and he knows it.

This is quite effective. The reader is taken into Braddock’s confidence—and creeped out. Is your cousin’s house that nice that you want to stay in it with a skull that screams? And uh, nunthin’ on yer conscience, is there?

The weirdness of the story builds. Without electricity, lamps go out at bad times and candles refuse to light.

I rather liked this gruesome little tale of vengeance biting one on the hind end.

An apparently forgettable movie by the same name came out loosely based on this story. From what little I’ve seen of it, one might surmise that Crawford didn’t come back from the grave and shriek himself is proof that the dead don’t come back.

Bio: F. (Francis) Marion Crawford (1854-1909) was an American novelist and short story writer who spent much of his adult life in his birthplace of Italy. He also lived in India and learned Sanskrit. His father, a sculptor, died while the writer was young. His family boasted of several writers, including his aunt, the abolitionist Julia Ward Howe. On his mother’s side, he descended from Revolutionary War officer Francis Marion, also called the Swamp Fox. Crawford’s writing was renowned for its vivid settings and characterizations. Though his novels are seldom read now, his supernatural and ghost short stories are still often anthologized


The story can be read here:

This story can be listened to here: (1:12:04)


Title: “The Screaming Skull”
Author: F. Marion Crawford (1854-1909)
First Published: Collier’s (serialized), July 1908
Length: novelette

Review of “Schalken the Painter” by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu: Halloween Countdown

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For October 22

Plot:

The painting by the artist Godfrey Schalken is a family heirloom. A woman in a white dress, part of which forms a veil. She holds a lamp, lighting her features, an effect at which its creator excelled. It shows her “arch smile,” as if she’s pulled off some prank. Behind her, in shadow by the red light of the embers of a dying fire, stands a man dressed in old Flemish style, his hand ready to draw his sword.

The painting comes with a story.

The woman in the painting is Rose Velderkaust, a niece of Schalken’s master Gerard Douw—and Schalken’s first love. As the story goes, the painter did not have the wherewithal to marry but had to work hard and save. Neither Rose nor Schalken spoke to Douw about their plans.

One day, a Minheer Vanderhausen came to call on Gerard Douw. He demonstrated his wealth and made a generous offer for Rose. Douw accepted without making further inquiry. He didn’t tell Rose immediately, not because he expected her to object, but because, after thinking about it, he couldn’t remember Vanderhausen’s face.

Rose came flying home after she and Minheer Vanderhausen are married, starving and begging not to be left alone. Douw put her to bed in his own room. Unthinking, he crossed the threshold to find a candle after the one he held blew out. The door slammed shut, and even with both Douw and Schalken trying to open it, it stayed fast.

Screaming came from the far side of the door, followed by silence.

No trace of Rose was ever found, but years later, when Godfrey attends the funeral for his father, he falls asleep and has a dream.

Thoughts:

This is a sad horror tale, heavy with foreshadowing. Douw loves his niece, but he’s too greedy to turn down the money the stranger offers.

The narrative is wordy in the 19th-century style. The villain is apparent to the reader when he first enters the story, doing everything but twirling his mustache.

Things go badly for poor Rose, but she—adjusts. She has not forgotten how to smile.

I liked this little gothic story, sad as it was.

Dutch painter Godfried Schalcken did indeed exist. He was, as Le Fanu writes, famous for his effects with light. He studied under a painter named Gerard Dou, who, in turn, studied under Rembrandt.

Bio: Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu (1814-1873) was an Irish writer of Huguenot descent. His early writings include a group of short stories, initially published anonymously in The Dublin University Magazine in the guise of the literary remains of one (fictional) Father Frances Purcell (The Purcell Papers 1838-1850). These range from the creepy (“Strange Event in the Life of Schalken the Painter”) to the silly (“The Quare Gander”).

Le Fanu’s writings include many ghost stories and supernatural pieces. His works influenced such writers as M. R. James and may have inspired portions of Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre (1847). His vampire tale, “Carmilla” (1872), influenced Bram Stoker’s Dracula. “Carmilla” has been adapted for film several times with varying degrees of success.

In 1858, his wife died after what was described as a fit of hysteria. Le Fanu ceased writing for years and became a recluse, taking to his bed.


The story can be read here:

The story can be listened to here:(1:21:55)


Title: “Schalken the Painter”
Author: Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu (1814-1873)
First published: Dublin University Magazine, May 1839
Length: novelette

Review of “The Repairer of Reputations” by Robert W. Chambers: Halloween Countdown

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For October 21

Plot:

As envisioned from 1895, the year 1920 looks good. The tariff and labor questions have been settled. New architecture replaces old. The war with Germany, occasioned by the latter’s seizure of the Samoan Islands, has left no visible mark on the republic. And we won’t mention the ridiculous plight of General Von Gartenlaube’s forces in New Jersey.

The Government Lethal Chamber opened in April 1920 for those who consider their lives no longer worth living.

Hildred Castaigne tells the reader that four years earlier, he fell from his horse and was carried unconscious to Dr. John Archer. The good doctor concluded that Hildred’s brain had been affected and sent him to an asylum. Hildred claims the fall left him with no “evil results.”

“On the contrary it had changed my whole character for the better. From a lazy young man about town, I had become active, energetic, temperate, and above all—oh, and above all—ambitious. There was only one thing that troubled me, I laughed at my own uneasiness, and yet it troubled me.

“During my convalescence I had bought and read for the first time, The King in Yellow.”

Hildred, now free, meets with Mr. Wild, the repairer of reputations, who lives above the shop where Hawberk the armorer lives with his daughter, Constance. Hildred is in love with Constance. Unfortunately, Constance loves Hildred’s cousin, Louis.

Hildred understands mysteries gleaned from The King in Yellow, and although his cousin is the heir, according to the Imperial History of America, Hildred wants to be king. He even has a crown that he tries on for size now and again. He forbids Louis to marry.

Thoughts:

This is the first story in a collection titled The King in Yellow. The stories are loosely connected and move backward and forward in time. The King in Yellow of the book is a play that drives its readers mad.

Chambers’ book is part of the so-called Decadent Movement of the latter 19th century, which valued fantasy and hedonism over reality. (It’s a fantastic job if you can get it). Early writers were French, such as Théophile Gautier and Charles Baudelaire.

All that to say, Hildred is more than half a bubble off, and he has a hard time separating fantasy from reality. He is the dreaded unreliable narrator. How much of what he says is true? Is the year even 1920? And yet, despite everything, the reader can’t help feeling a little sympathy for him and feeling the tragedy at end of the story all the more.

Some of the imagery is breathtaking. I can understand Hildred wanting to hold onto the world of the Yellow King:

“for I cannot forget Carcosa where black stars hang in the heavens; where the shadows of men’s thoughts lengthen in the afternoon, when the twin suns sink into the lake of Hali; and my mind will bear for ever the memory of the Pallid Mask.”

The authorities have declared Hildred cured. How sure is the reader? One of the things Chamber excels at is capturing the odd, uncomfortable dialogue people have with someone whose sanity they question.

Unfortunately, living in fantasy has real-world consequences. This is a sad story.

Bio: Robert W. Chambers (1865-1933) was a playwright, artist, and illustrator who turned to writing supernatural and weird fiction. Of his seventy books, his best known is The King in Yellow, which was influenced by Ambrose Bierce and, in turn, influenced H. P. Lovecraft. Told in vignettes that jump forward and backward in time, it describes a play that drives its readers mad.


The story can be read here:

The story can be listened to here: (1:30:10)


Title: “The Repairer of Reputations”
Author: Robert W. Chambers (1865-1933)
First Published: The King in Yellow, 1895
Length: novelette

Review of “The Open Door” by Mrs. Margaret Oliphant: Halloween Countdown

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For October 20

Plot:

On his return from India in 18—, Colonel Mortimer takes a house called Brentwood for his family. Edinburgh is within reach so his daughters can have the masters and lessons they need, and his boy, Roland, whose education has been neglected, can now receive the proper education for a lad his age. On the same property stand the ruins of another house that nature is busy reclaiming.

The girls love the house, and it seems to suit his wife, too, until one day when Roland comes home from school looking peaked. His pony is in a sweat. A fever seizes Roland. In his delirium, he repeatedly cries, “Mother, let me in!”

This breaks his mother’s heart.

When his father returns from a business trip to London, the boy tells him what really bothers him. There is a suffering spirit in the ruins. Worrying over it makes him sick. He knows Father will find an answer.

Father doesn’t know jack. He’s not a ghost-buster by trade, inclination, or belief, yet he’s desperate because he’s certain his son’s life depends on putting the spirit (if such it is) to rest.

Thoughts:

This odd story drips Victorian sentimentality. Plus, it’s long. Mortimer becomes a believer after experiencing the ghost, but Dr. Simson remains a skeptic, convinced human agency is involved, and even finds evidence of one after all is said and done. The point is not whether it’s a spirit or a human. A suffering creature seeks release from its suffering. Only through this will Roland be cured, and so on. What about the poor pony?

I think the point is well taken: regardless of the source of suffering, a sensitive soul (and it’s interesting that it affects the boy more than the girls) feels it and will not be released until the other’s suffering is addressed.

Having said that, I will add that I don’t think the story has aged well and may strike many people as tedious, though it is not a bad little read.

Bio: Mrs. Margaret Oliphant’s (1828-1897) literary output totals nearly two hundred works, including novels, short fiction, and various articles. She cranked them out, in part, to pay the bills.

She lost her husband to tuberculosis (“consumption,” in the parlance of the times). Three of their six children died before reaching adulthood. Oliphant outlived even those who did. She also supported an alcoholic brother after his bankruptcy.

Her early novels included a sensation novel, Salem Chapel. Later in life, she wrote supernatural stories. Most of her work reflects her Scottish heritage, religious reverence, and the personal tragedies she suffered.

Happily, she developed a close relationship with the Blackwoods of Blackwood’s magazine, who would, at times, offer her assignments in addition to publishing her short stories and serialized novels.


The story can be read here:

The story can be listened to here: (1:56:11)


Title: “The Open Door”
Author: Mrs. Margaret Oliphant (1828-1897)
First published: Blackwood’s, January 1882
Length: novelette

Review of “Mysterious Maisie” by Wirt Gerrare: Halloween Countdown

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For October 19

Plot:

With her father recently deceased and her mother in failing health, seventeen-year-old Laura must earn a living. She is not (her sister Maggie writes) fit to be a teacher. Even if she were, hearing what Maggie has to say about her own post as an assistant mistress of a high school has put her off from that course.

She offers her services as a paid companion to a lady or an invalid. The agency fixes her up with one Miss Mure, a train trip from her home.

Laura calls the neighborhood “dingy.” Her first glance of her employer’s house is not anymore uplifting. The house “looked old and badly kept.” The garden in the front was shabby.

Laura’s first encounter with the maid Agnes adds a dimension of weirdness. Agnes keeps a pet four-foot-long crocodile. She warns Laura to stay out of the kitchen if she’s not around.

Agnes tells her tales of hauntings in the house. Laura doesn’t believe her and resents her attempts to scare her. Why the crocodile? Why doesn’t she keep a dog?

“They won’t stay,” Agnes tells her.

Someone comes into her room that night and doesn’t answer her call. She figures it’s Agnes, but for what reason?

Agnes tells her she’s been with Miss Mure for fourteen years. Their employer is a spiritualist.

She is an ogre, Laura decides when she meets her. She’s tall and heavy.

Laura’s primary duties consist of reading to Miss Mure, who has bad eyesight. What types of books are these? And the Latin ones? Laura can read Latin, but she understands very little.

Then there’s the night of the séance.

Thoughts:

The tale is told as a letter addressed to Dr. Horace Vesey, an occult investigator. His reply, if any, is not supplied here. Maggie has collected Laura’s journals and letters and sent them to Vesey, seeking to understand what happened to her sister.

The events build suspense, although the reader understands from the beginning that Laura is already in a bad way. The household grows increasingly weird and threatening often without explanation.

Laura’s journal refers to things so terrible she refuses to give details. A half-human “horror” arrives, which she never completely describes. Its keeper beats it.

With all the mysterious goings on—the footsteps, the doors opening and closing—Laura accepts that the house is haunted.

Laura suspects something more sinister is in the works. Her mail to her family is not being posted. She is not allowed out of the house. Men arrive and seem to drag a girl away—who is she? Where are they taking her? Agnes locked her in the room until the whole affair was over.

Why would she do that? What do these people have in mind for her? Agnes tells her she won’t escape but will soon be “an angel.”

When she brings this up to Ms. Mure, she’s told that she’s imagining everything. Is she going crazy? …maybe.

The story resembles Mary Elizabeth Braddon’s “Good Lady Ducayne”(but not its perfectly Pollyanna ending), published a year later.

The ending of the present story is neither as miserable nor as happy as it could be.

Bio: Wirt Gerrare (legal name: William Oliver Greener) (1862-1935) was a British gun expert, journalist, and author. He wrote fiction and nonfiction, including Rufin’s Legacy: A Theosophical Romance (1892), about a Russian spy who astral projects, and Phantasms: Original Stories Illustrating Posthumous Personality and Character (coll 1895) on the exploits of Horace Vesey, occult detective.


I could not find an online text version of this story.

I could not find an audio version of this story.


Title: “Mysterious Maisie”
Author: Wirt Gerrare (legal name: William Oliver Greener) (1862-1935)
First published: Phantasms, 1895
Length: novelette

Review of “The Mark of the Beast” by Rudyard Kipling: Halloween Countdown

Image by SplitShire from Pixabay

For October 18

Plot:

It’s New Year’s Eve in India during the Raj. Strickland of the police; Fleete, newly arrived and unfamiliar with native customs; and the unnamed narrator are tying one on—especially Fleete. His family’s property is in the hinterlands, so he usually doesn’t come into town.

He ends up staggering home because his horse fled. Forget that stiff upper lip. Fleete is ‘faced to the point that Strickland and the narrator feel obligated to escort him home. They pass a temple where devotees are chanting a hymn to Hanuman, the monkey god. Before his companions can stop him, Fleete enters the temple and smashes his cigar ashes on the forehead of the red stone image of the god.

“Shee that?” Fleet asks the others. “Mark of the B-easht. Ishn’t it fine?”

The worshippers are shocked and angry. A figure, “white with leprosy,” hugs Fleete.

After that, the priests grow sober. One steps forward and tells Stickland in English, “Take your friend away. He has done with Hanuman, but Hanuman has not done with him.”

The Brits should realize something is really wrong when the horses in the stable panic at the same time Fleete stumbles in.

Thoughts:

The story is (surprise) imbued with colonialism and a cruelty that is hard to read. Fleete pays a price for his drunken desecration, but the narrator and Strickland pay a greater price to restore him—not because he’s a close friend, but because, by Jove, he’s an Englishman, and they can’t bear to see what he’s become. He keeps scaring the horses.

Strickland (the policeman) asks the narrator, “I’ve done enough to ensure my dismissal from the service, [um, to say the least] besides permanent quarters in a lunatic asylum. Do you believe we are awake?”

A twist at the end has everyone (except Fleete) wondering if they’re not a little nuts.

Nevertheless, this is an unpleasant tale about unpleasant people. I disliked it because of its violence, even if the details are more implied than described.

Bio: Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) was an Indian-born British journalist, novelist, poet, and short-story writer. Among his best-known works are The Jungle Book, the poem “If,” and (sadly) “The White Man’s Burden.” He wrote some ghost and supernatural stories later in life, such as “The Phantom Coach.”

In 1907, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature.

The loss of his only son in WWI deeply affected him. In his poem “Epitaphs of War,” he wrote, “If any question why we died, Tell them, because our fathers lied.”


The text can be read here:

The story can be listened to here:(31:06)


Title: “The Mark of the Beast”
Author: Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)
 First published: The Pioneer, July 12 + 14, 1890
Length: short story

Review of “The Listener” by Algernon Blackwood: Halloween Countdown

Image by SplitShire from Pixabay

For October 17

Plot:

In a series of diary entries, the unnamed narrator tells the reader how he took new rooms in a less-then-affluent part of town. The lodgings lack “modern conveniences,” presumably running water and electricity.

He’s a writer with several irons in the fire, and—whaddya know—he’s poor. Not that he had to be. He’s isolated himself from a sister with a rich husband and friends who are better off than he.

Thus, the poor quarter. The quiet suits him, but he soon finds himself getting irritated easily, almost as if someone were whispering things in his ear. He slacks off on his regular exercise. People stare at him. The cats in the alley eye him.

During the first storm, he realizes how drafty his rooms are and huddles in a greatcoat by the fire while the winds dance through the apartment, almost as if they were beings.

On more than one morning, he wakes to find his clothes strewn about. The landlady—or her assistant—never put his things back where they belong.

He becomes convinced that another man, a former tenant in the building, is following him, listening to him, waiting for the chance to take over his body.

Thoughts:

This is an eerie tale, and the suspense builds nicely. The reader can see the poor main character going to pieces despite some moments of triumph. He sells an article to a magazine, which then invites him to write another. At times, especially when he gets his regular exercise, he feels better and displays optimism. These turns don’t last long, and it’s back to footsteps on the stairs and knocks on the door with no one there.

Underlying all this is the narrator’s knowledge of insanity in his family. Could he be going nuts?

When a well-to-do friend writes that he’s coming for a visit, the narrator expects the no-nonsense friend will tell him his dreams and fears are all poppycock. He’ll be fine—right?

Author Blackwood excels in building suspense. The diary form and the possible insanity of the narrator echo Guy de Maupassant’s “The Horla,” but the stories have little else in common.

The ending is, alas! not the story’s strong point. It resolves little. It’s almost like a cruel joke. Damnit, Algernon. You had me going there for a bit.


Bio: Algernon Blackwood (1869-1951) was a prolific British writer and broadcaster of mystery, horror, and supernatural tales. Before he turned to writing, he spent time in Canada and the US farming, running a hotel, and gold mining in Alaska. He also worked as a newspaper reporter in New York City. He wrote of this time in a memoir, Episodes Before Thirty (1923/1934).

Many of his writings are atmospheric, heavy with unknown or poorly understood menace, such as “The Willows.”


The story can be read here:

The story can be listened to here:(1:10:43)


Title: “The Listener”
Author: Algernon Blackwood (1869-1951)
First Published: The Listener and Other Stories, 1907

Review of “Kecksies” by Marjorie Bowen: Halloween Countdown

Image by SplitShire from Pixabay

For October 16

Plot:

Two young gentlemen (so to speak) are returning from Canterbury quite drunk and obnoxious. The reader gets the impression they annoy even their horses with their attempts at singing.

They’ve miscalculated, however. A storm blows up. Nothing to worry about. Sir Edward Crediton is the local landowner, and one of his tenants will put them up whether they want to or not.

About the time the rain comes, they arrive at the cottage of elderly Goody Boyle and barge in, demanding shelter. Goody Boyle is not happy to see them, for she knows what kind of people her guests are but dare not refuse them because, as her landlord, Sir Edward could turn her out in a heartbeat—and he’s mean enough to do it.

While Crediton and his companion Sir Nicholas Bateup express their gratitude to Goody Boyle with terms like “trollop,” “curst witch,” and “ugly slut,” they learn that the two candles she has set out are for a recently deceased person.

He’s not a relative of their hostess but one Richard Horne, with whom Sir Edward has history. Horne pursued his wife, and he threw him out into the wilds.

Goody has to leave them to see about the burial and find his friends. Yes, he had friends.

“That is, gentles, if you care to remain alone with the body of Robert Horne.”

Yeah, yeah, no problem.

She leaves.

Ned gets an idea. Why should Robert have all the fun? Ned will lie under his sheet. When the mourners come in, he’ll sit up and scare the living daylights out of them. What a great prank.

Horne’s body? They pitch it into a patch of hemlock, or, as it’s known in these parts, kecksie.

Whatever could go wrong?

Thoughts:

This is a nice bit of gothic-ish horror, set in the 17th (?) century, with the open landscape and the storm coming up from nowhere. Sir Edward calls Goody Boyle a witch and says the devil’s “phiz” (face) has been seen through the windows of her cottage before they enter. Is she a witch? She warns the two young men abusing the hospitality of her home that Horne was a strange man.

“There was no parson or priest to take the edge off his going, or challenge the fiends who stood at his head and feet,” she says.

The men do not heed her warnings and pay a heavy price. There is some justice to that, even if the punishment far outweighs the crime. Innocents also pay, which only adds to the horror.

The story is an old-timey pulp tale. The author does not explain everything. Black magic, vengeance, and maybe even the devil are involved. What more does a reader need?

This is an enjoyable little tale, but I wouldn’t call it great.

Bio: Marjorie Bowen (legal name Gabrielle Margaret Vere Campbell Long) (1885-1952) was a prolific British author of horror, historical fiction, mystery, and crime fiction under various pseudonyms. After her father left the family, she turned to writing to help support her mother and sister (the Encyclopedia of Fantasy refers to them as “extravagant.”) and later her own children.


The story can be listened to here: (37:21)

The website also has the text.


Title: “Kecksies”
Author: Marjorie Bowen (legal name Gabrielle Margaret Vere Campbell Long) (1885-1952)
First published: Regent Magazine, January 1925