pulp-lit productions

Boutique book & audiobook publishing house specializing in pre-war pulp. This account is not monitored, messages left on it will not reach us.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

In the interests of political neutrality, we are withdrawing from Twitter. This post will remain to let everyone know, but we will not be logging in or checking messages. Thanks for the memories, everyone!

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Up next: “The Horror in the Museum,” another classic, campy Lovecraft-Heald collaboration! Starting tomorrow at noon PDT.

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This has been Part 6 of an 6-part presentation of “The Horror in the Burying-Ground,” a short story reprinted from Pulp-Lit’s own “The Complete Weird-Fiction Works of H.P. Lovecraft” collection. Details: https://t.co/o07qlyIxkO

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“Hey, you! What’s takin’ you off in such a hurry? Mebbe there’s more I could tell you if I had a mind . . .”

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Today’s thread is Part 6 of 6 parts comprising the full text of “The Horror in the Burying-Ground” by #HPLovecraft and Hazel Heald. The next part will be released at noon PDT tomorrow. #HPL #WeirdTales #CosmicHorror #Pulp

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

and so was ‘you know’ . . . ‘said you’d stand by’ . . . ‘get rid of him’ and ‘bury me’ . . . in a kind of changed voice . . . Then there was that awful ‘comin’ again some day’ — in a death-like squawk . . . but you can’t tell me Johnny couldn’t have made those sounds . . . .

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

“Whatever it was, was so faint it might have been the wind if there hadn’t been words. I made out a few, but don’t want to say as I’d back up all Steve claimed to have caught . . . .

“ ‘She-devil’ . . . ‘all the time’ . . . ‘Henry’ . . . and ‘alive’ was plain . . .

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

I verily believe he took some stock in ghosts. Matildy and Emily was so scared they didn’t remember what they heard. And curious enough, nobody else in town — if anybody was awake at the ungodly hour — never said nothin’ about hearin’ no sounds at all.

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There ain’t no tellin’ the sound of a man’s voice so far off, and with our heads full of nonsense it ain’t no wonder we thought there was two voices — and voices that hadn’t ought to be speakin’ at all.

“Steve, he claimed to have heard more than I did.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

And I’m a-tellin’ you again as how it must a been crazy Johnny over to the buryin’-ground, let Jotham Blake claim what he will.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

“You see, it was about two o’clock in the mornin’ that Sophie heard the sounds and keeled over twice that first night after the buryin’. Steve and me, and Matildy and Emily, heard the second lot, faint as it was, just like I told you.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

But I ain’t takin’ no stock in their stories about noises every seventeenth of June, or about faint shinin’ figures a-tryin’ Sophie’s door and winders every black mornin’ about two o’clock.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

Once when Sally Hopkins was a’callin’ on her — in ’97 or ’98, I think it was — there was an awful rattlin’ at her winders — and Johnny was safe locked up at the time — at least, so Constable Dodge swore up and down.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

Got to sayin’ there was a curse on Stillwater — and I’m dinged if she ain’t half right, the way things is a-goin’ to pieces these days. There certainly was somethin’ queer about Sophie right along.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

And when he ain’t a-doin’ that he’s hangin’ around Sophie’s shuttered windows howlin’ about what’s a-comin’ soon to git her.

“She wouldn’t never go near the buryin’-ground, and now she won’t come out of the house at all nor see nobody.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

From that day to this he hangs around them graves a-talkin’ to the both of them — cussin’ and kickin’ at Tom’s mound, and puttin’ posies and things on Henry’s.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

’Taint more than a mile to the buryin’-ground, and he must a got out of the window where they’d locked him up at the town farm — even if Constable Blake says he didn’t get out that night.

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“Well, sir, I’m tellin’ what I’m tellin’, and won’t do no guessin’ like Steve Barbour would a done if he dared. He always was the greatest hand for hintin’ things . . . died ten years ago of pneumony . . . .

“What we heard so faint-like was just poor crazy Johnny, of course.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

Come about an hour when we allowed we’d be goin’ home soon, that Sophie she begun to tip her head on one side like she was a-listenin’ to somethin’. Then on a sudden she screamed again, and keeled over in another faint.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

When we got her to she was shakin’ like a leaf, and wouldn’t let on by so much as a word what was ailin’ her. Matildy and Emily done what they could to quiet her down, but Steve whispered things to me as didn’t make me none too easy.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

Woke us all up — Steve and Emily Barbour and me and Matildy goes over hot-footin’, all in night gear, and finds Sophie all dressed and dead fainted on the settin’-room floor. Lucky she hadn’t locked the door.

[pulp-lit productions @PulpLit]

Here the old man ejects his cud of tobacco and leans forward to buttonhole the listener.

“It was that same night, mind ye — toward mornin’, and just eight hours after them burials — when we heard the first scream from Sophie’s house.