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The Fall of the House of Usher

The Fall of the House of Usher - story

Edgar Allan Poe

“Son coeur est un luth suspendu;  Sitôt qu’on le touche il rèsonne.” – De Béranger. During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung…

One Too Many

One Too Many - story

Emiliano Monge

Someone, probably the ticket inspector, told him that his was the only suitcase. No one else was going to Alquila today. There’s no way it can get lost. But Hernández insisted on taking it with…

Lazarus

Lazarus - story

Leonid Andreyev

I When Lazarus rose from the grave, after three days and nights in the mysterious thralldom of death, and returned alive to his home, it was a long time before anyone noticed the evil peculiarities…

The Sandman

The Sandman - story

E.T.A. Hoffmann

NATHANIEL TO LOTHAIRE. Certainly you must all be uneasy that I have not written for so long—so very long. My mother, I am sure, is angry, and Clara will believe that I am passing my…

Insomnia

Insomnia - story

Oliverio Coelho

Before going to bed I would count the hours: one, two, three, four, five, six… seven. I looked at the clock. It was four in the morning, so four plus seven was eleven and eleven…

The Pit and the Pendulum

The Pit and the Pendulum - story

Edgar Allan Poe

Impia tortorum longos hic turba furores Sanguinis innocui, non satiata, aluit. Sospite nunc patria, fracto nunc funeris antro, Mors ubi dira fuit vita salusque patent. [Quatrain composed for the gates of a market to be…

The Pit

The Pit - story

Santiago Roncagliolo

“You really ought to see it before you go,” said Wordsworth. “It’s not something to be missed. That is, of course, if you dare …” Wordsworth tended to get a little peevish in the early…

The Lego Idol

The Lego Idol - story

Jon Bilbao

I should begin by apologizing for sending this letter out of the blue. At first, I thought I’d call on you at home so we could talk about all this face to face, but then…

Greetings from Dalmatia

Greetings from Dalmatia - story

Želimir Periš

When you’re thirsty, the world bends out of shape. The ground becomes a convex sphere and each step you make feels like climbing. Trees lean over and their branches prick your eyes. Your eyes burn,…

The Little Angel’s Exhumation

The Little Angel’s Exhumation - story

Mariana Enríquez

My grandma didn’t like the rain, and when the sky darkened before the first few drops started to fall, she would take bottles to the backyard and half bury them in the earth, the bottlenecks…

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