The Christmas Goblins by Charles Dickens Coffee Break Collection 24 Ghosts, ghouls and spooky things This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Nislihan Stamboli The Christmas Goblins In an old abbey town, a long, long while ago, there officiated a sexton and grave degree in the churchyard one Gabriel Grom. He was an ill-conditioned, cross-grained, surly fellow who consorted with nobody but himself and an old wickerbottle which fitted into his large, deep, waistcoat pocket. A little before twilight one Christmas Eve, Gabriel shouldered his spade, lighted his lantern and betook himself toward the old churchyard for he had a grave to finish by next morning. And feeling very low, he thought it might raise his spirits perhaps if he went on with his work at once. He strode along until he turned into the dark lane which led to the churchyard, a nice, gloomy, mournful place into which the townspeople did not care to go except in broad daylight. Consequently he was not a little indignant to hear a young urchin roaring out some jolly song about a merry Christmas. Gabriel waited until the boy came up then wrapped him over the head with his lantern five or six times to teach him to modulate his voice. And as the boy hurried away, with his hand to his head Gabriel grubbed chuckled himself and entered the churchyard, locking the gate behind him. He took off his coat, put down his lantern and getting into an unfinished grave worked at it for an hour or so with right goodwill but the earth was hardened with the frost and it was no easy matter to break it up and shovel it out. At any other time this would have made Gabriel very miserable but he was so pleased that having stopped the small boy singing that he took a little heed of the scanty progress he had made when he had finished work for the night and looked down into the grave with grim satisfaction murmuring as he gathered up his things. Brave lodgings for one! Brave lodgings for one! A few feet of cold earth when life is done! Ha ha ha ha! He laughed as he set himself down on a flat tombstone which was a favourite resting place of his and drew forth his wicker bottle. A coffin and Christmas! A Christmas box! Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha! Repeated a voice close beside him. It was the echoes! Said he raising the bottle to his lips again. It was not! Said a deep voice. Gabriel started up and stood rooted to the spot with terror for his eyes rested on a form that made his blood run cold. Seated on an upright tombstone close to him was a strange unearthly figure. He was sitting perfectly still grinning at Gabriel Grubb with such a grin as only a goblin would call up. What do you hear on Christmas Eve? Said the goblin sternly. Ha ha ha! I came to dig a grave, sir. Stammered Gabriel. What man wonders among graves on such a night as this? Cried the goblin. Gabriel Grubb! Gabriel Grubb! Screamed a wild chorus of voices that seemed to fill the churchyard. What have you got in that bottle? Said the goblin. Ha ha ha! Oh man, sir! Replied the sexton trembling more than ever for he had bought it of the smugglers and he thought his questionnaire might be in the excise department of the goblins. Who brings Hollands alone and in a churchyard on such a night as this? Gabriel Grubb! Gabriel Grubb! Exclaimed the wild voices again. And who then is our raw-foot prize? Exclaimed the goblin raising his voice. The invisible chorus replied Gabriel Grubb! Gabriel Grubb! Well, Gabriel, what do you say to this? Said the goblin as he grinned a broader grin than before. The sexton gasped for breath. What do you think of this, Gabriel? It's very curious, sir. Very curious, sir. And very pretty. Replied the sexton half dead with fright. But I think I'll go back and finish my work, sir. If you please. Work, said the goblin. What work? The grave, sir. Oh, the grave, eh? Who makes graves at a time when other men are merry and takes a pleasure in it? Again the voices replied Gabriel Grubb! Gabriel Grubb! I'm afraid, my friends. Won't you, Gabriel? Said the goblin. Under favour, sir. Replied the horror-stricken sexton. I don't think they can. They don't know me, sir. I don't think the gentlemen have ever seen me. Oh, yes they have. We know the man who struck the boy in the envious malice of his heart because the boy could be merry and he could not. Here the goblin gave a loud, shrill laugh which the echoes returned twentyfold. I, eh, I'm afraid I must leave you, sir. Said the sexton, making an effort to move. Leave us! Said the goblin. Ha, ha, ha! As the goblin laughed, he suddenly darted toward Gabriel, laid his hand upon his collar and sank with him through the earth.  And now, said the king of the goblins, seated in the centre of the room on an elevated seat. His friend of the churchyard showed the man of misery and gloom a few of the pictures from our great storehouses. As the goblin said this, a clown rolled gradually away and disclosed a small and scantily furnished but neat apartment.  A frugal meal was spread upon the table and an elbow chair was placed near the fire. Soon the father entered and the children ran to meet him. As he sat down to his meal, the mother sat by his side and all seemed happiness and comfort. What do you think of that? Said the goblin. Gabriel murmured something about its being very pretty. Show him some more, said the goblin. Many a time the cloud went and came and many a lesson it taught to Gabriel Grubb. He saw that man who worked hard and earned their scantily bread were cheerful and happy. And he came to the conclusion it was a very respectable sort of a world after all. No sooner had he formed it than the cloud closed over the last picture seemed to set along his senses and lull him to repose. One by one the goblins faded from his sight and as the last one disappeared he sank to sleep. The day had broken when he awoke and found himself lying on the flat gravestone with the wicker bottle empty by his side. He got on his feet as well as he could and brushing the frost off his coat turned his face toward the town. But he was an altered man. He had learned lessons of gentleness and good nature by his strange adventures in the goblin's cavern. End of The Christmas Goblins Recording by Neslihan Stamboli Dead Before Death by Christina G Rosseri Coffee Break Collection 24 Ghosts, Girls and Spooky Things This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Chad Horner from LibriVox Dead Before Death Ah, changed and cold. How changed and very cold with stiffened smiling lips and cold calm eyes. Changed yet the same. Much knowing little wise this was the promise of the days of old grown hard and stubborn in the ancient mold. Grown rigid in the sham of lifelong lies. We hoped for better things as years would rise but it is over as a tale once told all fallen the blossom that no frittage bore all lost the present and the future time all lost all lost the laps that went before so lost till death shot to the open door so lost from chime to everlasting chime so cold and lost forever evermore End of Dead Before Death Coffee Break Collection 24 Ghosts, Girls and Spooky Things This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Chad Horner from Liverpool Death Before us great death stands our fate held close within his quiet hands when with pride joy we lift life's red wine to drink deep of the mystic shining cup and ecstasy through all our being leaps death by his head weeps End of Death Exposes the tricks of spirit mediums by Anonymous from The New York Times November 13th, 1911 Coffee Break Collection 24 Ghosts, Goals and Spooky Things This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Colleen McMahon Exposes the tricks of spirit mediums Joseph F. Wren shows how they can dup a gathering and communicate with spooks. A man and woman protest announced that they are mediums. The woman gets offers of $3,000 to disprove fraud. Joseph F. Wren, President of the Brooklyn Philosophical Association spoke yesterday afternoon at the Long Island Business College South 8th Street, Brooklyn, on spiritualism. He produced mediumistic phenomena using the lingo of the profession and then exposing the trickery. The meeting was a turbulent one because of the presence in the hall of believers in spiritualism. One man brought his own slates in paper and a woman who said she had been a medium for 35 years, stood up and denounced the affair calling it a performance and demanding to know whether Mr. Wren had a theatrical license for a Sunday performance. Before the meeting closed, she had received offers amounting to $3,000 if she would produce phenomena with no chance of fraud. She refused. Mr. Wren was one of those who investigated Euspacia Palladino and he showed how the Italian woman did some of her tricks. In one case he showed how a medium in a dark room, bound and blindfolded could tell what the investigators had written and put in sealed envelopes. How to read a selected line in a book and give demonstrations in noisemaking and handing out spirit touches. In his opening address Mr. Wren criticized the psychical research investigators especially Professor Hislop. He said they were well-meaning but not able to consider evidence. As a demonstration of telepathy four men were called to the platform. A book was handed to them and each was requested to write a fly leaf, two sets of figures. The book was then handed to a fourth man and he added the figures. Then Mr. Wren from another side of the platform promptly called out the result. He then explained how it was done. In handing the book to the fourth man and getting off a sideline of gesture he had turned it over so that the figures added up by the fourth man were really the figures he had written there earlier in the evening on the last leaf of the book. Slips were passed about the audience and questions written on them. They were folded by the writers and passed to the platform. While this was going on Mr. Wren spoke of the difficulty in calling up spirits and gave the usual talk of a medium on such an occasion. He continued this while taking up the slips placing each on his forehead and apparently answering the question. What he did do he told his audience was to keep one question ahead so that while apparently reading one question out loud he was waiting the question to be answered next. It was at this point that a man insisted on turning in a question written on his own paper and sealed in an envelope he had brought. There was a protest against this but Mr. Wren said he would make the test. The man was asked to write the name of some man well known in history and seal it up. Mr. Wren went down into the audience took the envelope and returned to the platform holding it in both hands. He placed it on the stand and a few minutes talk said the name written was that of Abraham Lincoln. It was and the audience cheered. Mr. Wren then said that while walking to the platform he had rubbed alcohol on the envelope and made it transparent. His talk, he said, was to give the spirits time to evaporate. Then followed slate writing tricks. A magnet moved under a slate made a bit of pencil write no. He slipped his foot out of his shoe when another man thought he was holding both feet and demonstrated how to write on a slate under a table holding a pencil with his toes. The same man wanted to know if Mr. Wren could write a message on a slate tied up in paper. Mr. Wren said he could and the man said he had brought his own slate. He mounted the platform bringing with him two slates wrapped up in yellow paper. The demonstrator put the man in a chair and made passes over his head with the slates. While he talked of controls a confederate slipped up behind a screen and cleverly exchanged the slates as Wren waved them above the man's head. Then the confederate slipped back of the screen and wrote the message tied up the slates again and again exchanged them. It was in the interval before the second part of the program that the indignant woman medium got up to protest. She was allowed to take the platform. She said the tricks did nothing to disprove the truth of spiritualism and that she had communication with spirits. Her remarks were greeted with some applause but the majority in the audience jeered at her. She refused to give her name. You go to Professor Hislip's secretary if you want my name, she said. She knows who I am. The final demonstration took nearly an hour. The scene was supposed to be in a dark room where a spiritualist was demonstrating psychic power to a committee of investigators. As the room could not be darkened the five investigators and the medium were blindfolded. Before this was done the committee of investigators agreed upon a line and a certain page of a book wrote and sealed their questions and securely bound Mr. Rinn in a chair. As soon as the eyes of the investigators were bandaged, Mr. Rinn skillfully slipped out of his buns took off the bandage from his eyes and proceeded to pound a desk knock on the floor and stamp about.  It was all simple when viewed from the audience. He picked up a chair and touched it to the laps of the members of the committee then he took off his shoes and complaining the spirits were lifting him up he touched them with the soles on the knees, shoulders and head as though he were walking over them. He took the book and the sealed envelopes pulled over his head the black bag and read them by the light of an electric flashlight. It took skill to retire himself in the chair again but he did it. End of Exposes the Tricks of Spirit Mediums Recording by Colleen McMahon The Fascination of the Ghost Story by Arthur B. Reath Coffee Break Collection 24 Ghosts, Schools and Spooky Things This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Fascination of the Ghost Story What is the fascination we feel for the mystery of the ghost story? Is it of the same nature as the fascination which we feel for the mystery of the detective story? Of the latter fascination the late Paul Armstrong used to say that it was because we are all as full of crime as sing-sing although we don't dare. Thus may I ask are we not fascinated by the ghost story because no matter what may be the scientific or skeptical bent of our minds in our inmost souls, secretly perhaps we are as full of superstition as an oboe a man only we don't let it loose. We shall say that he is able to fling off lightly the inheritance of countless ages of superstition. Is there not a streak of superstition in all of us? We laughed at the voodoo worshipper and then create our own hoodoos or pet obsessions. It has been said that man is incurably religious that if all religions were blotted out man would create a new religion. Man is incurably fascinated by the mysterious. If all the ghost stories of the ages were blotted out man would invent new ones. For do we not all stand in awe of that which we cannot explain? Of that which if it not be in our own experience is certainly recorded in the experience of others of that of which we know and can know nothing? Skeptical though one may be of the occult he must needs be interested in things that others believe to be objective that certainly are subjectively very real to them. The ghost story is not born of science nor even of super science nor of that may be. It is not of science at all. It is of another sphere despite all that the psychic researchers have tried to demonstrate. There are in life two sorts of people who for one have a better classification. I may call the psychic and the non-psychic. If I ask the psychic to close his eyes and I say to him horse he immediately visualizes the horse. The other I rather inclined to believe that it is the former class who see ghosts or rather some of them the latter do not though they share interest in them. The artists are of the visualizing class in a more modern times it is the psychic who think in motion pictures or at least in a secession of still pictures. However we explain the ghostly and supernatural whether we give it objective or merely subjective reality neither explanation prevents the non-psychic from being intensely interested in the visions of the psychic. Thus I am convinced that if we were all quite honest with ourselves whether we believe in or do not believe in ghosts at least we are all deeply interested in them. There is in this interest something that makes all the world akin. Who does not feel a suppressed start at the creaking of furniture or anything? Who has not felt a shiver of goose flesh controlled only by an effort of will? Who in the dark has not had the feeling of some thing behind him and in spite of his conscious reasoning turned to look? If there be any man who has not it may be that to him ghost stories have no fascination. Let him at least however be honest to every human being mystery appeals be it that of the crime cases on which a large part of yellow journalism is founded or be it in the cases of Dupont of Leco of Sherlock Holmes of Arsene Lupin of Craig Kennedy or a host of our other fiction mystery characters. The appeal is the mystery. The detective's case is solved at the end however but even in the case of a ghost story the underlying mystery remains. In the ghost story we have the very quintessence of mystery. Authors, publishers, editors, dramatists, writers of motion pictures tell us that never before has there been such an intense and wide interest in mystery stories as there is today. That in itself explains the interest in the super mystery story of the ghost and ghostly doings. Another element of mystery lies in such stories deeper and further back is the mystery of life. After death, what? Impossible scores the non-psychic as he listens to some ghost story to which doggedly replies the mind of the opposite type. Not so, I believe because it is impossible. The uncanny, the unhealthy as in the master of such writing, Poe fascinates whether we will or know the imp of the perverse son. That is why we read with enthralled interest these excursions into the eerie unknown, perhaps reading on till the mystic hour of midnight increases the creepy pleasure. One might write a volume of analysis and appreciation of this aptly balanced anthology of ghost stories assembled here after years of reading and study by Mr. J. L. French. Foremost among the impressions that a casual reader will derive is the interesting fact just as in detective mystery stories so in ghost stories styles change. Each age, each period has the ghost story peculiar to itself. Today there is a new style of ghost story gradually evolving. Once stories were a fairies, fairies, trolls, the little people of poltergeist and Luke Garoo. Through various ages we have progressed to the ghost story of the 18th and 19th centuries until today in the 20th we are seeing a modern style which the new science is modifying materially. I am on the stories in this volume one must recognize the masterful art of Algernon Blackwoods the woman's ghost story. I was interested in psychic things as the woman as she starts to tell her story simply with a sweep toward a climax that has the ring of the truth of fiction. Here perhaps we have the modern style of ghost story at its best. Times change as well as styles. The man who went too far is of intense interest as an attempt to bring into our own times an interpretation of the symbolism underlying Greek mythology applied to England of some years ago to see Pan meant death. Hence in this story there is a philosophy of pantheism no me, no you, no it. It is a mystical story with a storm scene in which is painted a picture that reminds one strongly of the fall of the house of Usher with a frankly added words on him were marks of hoofs of a monstrous goat that had leaped on him uncompromising mysticism. Happy is the Kipling section, the Phantom rickshaw, if only that obitur dictum of ghost presence as Kipling explains about the rift in the brain and a little bit of the dark world came through and pressed him to death. Then there are the racial styles of ghost stories. The volume takes us from the banshees and other death warnings of Ireland to a strange example of Jewish mysticism in the silent government. Mr. French has been very wide in his choice giving us these as well as many examples from the literature of England and France. Finally he is compiled from the newspapers as typically American, many ghost stories of New York and other parts of the country. Strange that one should find humor in a subject so weird, yet we find it. Take for instance Defoe's old narrative, the voice is veal. It is a hoax nothing more. Of our own times is Ellis Parker Butler's Day Ain't No Ghost showing example of the modern Negro's racial heritage. In our literature and on the stage the very idea of a darkie in a graveyard is mirth provoking. Mr. Butler extracts some pithy philosophy from his dark boy. I insecure to ghosts what am because they ain't no ghost feel kind of uneasy about the ghost what ain't. Humor is acceded by pathos. In the interval we find a sympathetic twist to the ghost story an actual desire to meet the dead. It is not however to be compared for interest to the story of sheer terror as in Bulwer lightens the haunted and the haunters with the flight of the servant in terror. The cowering of the dog against the wall the death of the dog its neck actually broken by the terror and all that go to make an experience in a haunted house what it should be. Thus at last we come to two of the stories that attempt to give a scientific explanation another phase of the modern style of ghost story. One of these perhaps hardly modern as far as mere years are concerned is this same story of Bulwer the haunted and the haunters besides being a rattling good old fashion terror of horror it attempts a new fashion scientific explanation. It is enough to read and re-read it. It is however the lamented Ambrose Pierce who has gone furthest in the science and the philosophy of the matter and in a very short story too splendidly titled the damned thing. Incredible exclaims the coroner at the inquest. The coroner replies the newspaper man who relates the experience and in these words expresses the true feelings about ghostly fiction. That is nothing to you if I also swear that it is true. But furthest of all in his scientific explanation not scientifically explaining a way but in explaining the way goes Pierce as he outlines a theory. From the diary of the murdered man about the following which we may treasure as a gem I am not mad there are colors that we cannot see and God help me the damned thing is of such a color. This fascination of the ghost story have I made it clear as I write nearing midnight the bookcase behind me cracks I start and turn nothing there is a creek of a board in the hallway I know is the cool night when the uneven contraction of materials expanded in the heat of the day yet do I go into the darkness outside otherwise than alert it is this evolution of our sense of ghost terror ages of it that fascinates us can we with a few generations of modernism behind us throw it off with all our science and if we did shall we not then secede only in the old fashion ghost story in creating a new scientific ghost story scientific yes but more something that has existed since the beginnings of intelligence in human race perhaps you critic you say that the true ghost story originated in the age of shadowy candlelight and pine knot with her grotesqueries on the walls and in the unpenetrated darkness that the electric bulb and the air have dispelled that very thing on which for ages the ghost story has been built what no ghost stories would you take away our supernatural fiction by your paltry scientific explanation still will we gather about the story teller then lie away go knights seeing mocking figures arms akimbo defying all your science to crush the ghost story the fascination of the ghost story the ghost of the dane by edward capern coffee break collection 24 ghosts, ghouls and spooky things this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the ghost of the dane 12 told the bell in the old grey tower the prayer was over for the dead the lights were out in the abbey hall and the abbot lay in his bed the north wind blew on the broken coast the waves leaped under the sky god keep the ship from the wild lee shore was many a landsman's cry out from the dark came the broad full moon with the glare of a phantom light into the dark she's shocked full soon making a dreary night came down the hill from abbot's ham each walking timorously three travellers at that gloomy hour but not in company about a league from abbot's ham a half league from the sea two furlongs space from the northern ham as near as it may be a path there was across the down a beaten saxon road hard by a stone rude shape and was of monstrous weight and broad out from the night came the broad full moon out from the dark came she while a spectral form without a shroud spake out imploringly ho ho who goes there help to relay this stone they have roused me from my slumbers here spake he of the grizzly bone whence comest thou my good yeoman and wither in haste away from my low-thatched cot near the abbot's ham to the village beside the bay spake the gaunt specter of grizzly bone come tarry a while I pray but the yeoman fled with his bristling hair to the village beside the bay ho ho ho ho my sailor bold help me this stone to lay I cannot tarry the night is cold and my ship is under way spake the grim specter of grizzly bone the yeoman went his way and thou shalt lack courage in days to come when thy ship is out of the bay no grace to thy soul when thou comest to die what to the ghost quote he no grace to thy soul when thou comest to die for thou sureest no pity to me ho ho there thou in the huge gray hood whence does thou come this way my good man lives in the northern ham speak on what has to say spake the gaunt specter of grizzly bone under the dark night sky some vassal hand hath shifted this stone which over my bones did lie take courage for all of womankind shall pass in comfort here but the yeoman stout and sailor bold or very fear I pledge thee my truth when the cock hath crowed and called thee down to rest I will pray for the peace of thy troubled soul and replace the stone on thy breast God rest thee good woman stay awhile and trust me faithfully and I will tell thee how I came a ghostly form to be in olden days the gallant danes came sailing over the sea and many a battle saw they fought in this thy fair country O brave, right brave were the northern men and wild as wolf on the wold and brave, right brave was the stout Saxon and his king was wise and bold Far, far away in Selwood's shade did valley and Alfred hide who lived on the faith of a better time when we sailed over the tide O wild was the sea on that wild day when we, our troops did land at Appledore port inside the bay and Hubba held command hard was the fight we waged with the foe as we stood in the bloodstained wave but the Saxon band in the strife gave way when Spaker Hubba brave there is a chief in Kenwith Hall brave Oden is his name the valley and Earl of Devonshire of good and worthy fame Up yonder is the beaten road on to the castle now Oden before bold Hubba's sword his haughty head shall bow comes up a host from the town by the sea spake the water upon the wall and the blast he blew from his trusty horn was heard in Kenwith Hall the Earl was there with his merry men already stout and true let the brown ale rest in its flag and now there is ruder work to do the Danes were below the castle wall when Hubba spake to his band this tower so strong my true men all no Northman shall withstand spake Oden the Earl of Devonshire lying Northman may be true but before brave Oden yields his sword they have much rough work to do swift shot a shower of deadly darts from their stubborn bows of you and as fast and faster they pierce their hearts faster the arrows flew many a day and many a night the Northman dared to stay till the moat with the fierce Danes blood was red as red as the dying day now for the charge my Saxons true and no it was a savage fray but the Northman by the Saxon band were driven into the bay on bloody corners trampled sword I fell among the slain as onward rolled the battle wave and swept away the Danes and yonder grave by the winding shore with seaweed overgrown on the eastward side of Appledore is our great Hubba's stone over the clouds sail the broad full moon like a ship on a troubled sea I am summoned down to the shades below spake the ghost and vanished he end of The Ghost of the Dane Halloween copy break collection 24 ghost ghouls and spooky things this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by April 6090 California United States of America Halloween Pixie cobalt elf and sprite all are on their rounds tonight in the Wanmoons Silver Ray thrives their helter-skelter play fond of cellar barn or stack true unto the Almanac they present to credulous eyes strange hobgoblin mysteries cabbage stumps straws wet with dew apple skins and chestnuts too and to mirror for some lass show what wonders come to pass doors they move and gates they hide mischiefs that on moonbeams ride are their deeds and by their spells love records its oracles don't we all of long ago by the ready fireplace glow in the kitchen and the hall those queer coof like pranks recall eerie shadows were they then but tonight they come again were we once once more but sixteen precious would be Halloween Joel Benton in Harper's Weekly October 31st 1896 End of recording Halloween by J.K. Bangs read by Tony Scheinman this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Halloween bring forth the raisins and the nuts tonight all hallows specter struts along the moonlit way no time is this for tear or sob or other woes or joys to rob but time for Pippin and for Bob and Jack O'Lantern gay come forth elas and trousered kid from prisoned mischief raise the lid and lift it good and high leave grave old wisdom in the lurch set folly on a lofty perch nor fear the awesome rod of birch when dawn elumes the sky tis night for revel set apart to reallume the darkened heart and route the hosts of dole tis night when goblin elf and fey come dancing in their best array to prank and roister on the way and ease the troubled soul the ghosts of all things past parade emerging from the mist and shade that hid them from our gaze and full of song and ringing mirth in one glad moment of rebirth again they walk the ways of earth as in the ancient days the beacon light shines on the hill the willow wisps the forests fell with flashes filled from noon and witches on their broomstick spry speed here and yonder in the sky and lift their strident voices high unto the hunter's moon the air resounds with tombful notes from myriads of straining throats all hailing folly queen so join the swelling choral throng forget your sorrows and your wrong in one glad hour of joyous song to honor halloween end of halloween halloween by a.f. Murray read by Tony Scheinman this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org halloween a gypsy flame is on the hearth sign of this carnival of mirth through the done fields and from the glade flash merry folk in masquerade it is the witching halloween pale tapers glimmer in the sky the dead and dying leaves go by dimly across the faded green strange shadows stranger shades are seen it is the mystic halloween soft gusts of love and memory beat at the heart reproachfully the lights that burned for those who die were flickering low let them flare high it is the haunting halloween end of halloween halloween old and new time edited by J. Walker McFadden 1874 to 1960 coffee break collection 24 ghosts, ghouls and spooky things this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org halloween old time and new time old time hark did you hear that sound in the grass may have a witch or ghost did pass was that the owl's lone cry is that the wind among the trees what voices whispering in the breeze our spirits really nigh no time hark did you hear that sound in the grass perhaps a mischief maker's pass there's laughter in their cry this is the night for girls and boys for games and pranks and stunts and noise with lanterns gleaming high end of halloween old time new time published in 1917 halloween by Winifred M. Letts coffee break collection 24 ghosts, ghouls and spooky things LibriVox Recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Anita Sloma Martinez halloween the girls are laughing with the boys and gaming by the fire they're wishful every one of them to see her heart's desire twistessie cut the barn brack and found the ring inside before next halloween has dawned herself will be a bride but little Molly stands alone outside the cabin door and breaks her heart for won the waves through dead upon the shore twist Katie's nut leapt from the hearth and left poor Pat's alone but Ellen's stayed by Christie Burns upon the wide hearthstone and all the while the children bobbed for apples at a float the old men smoked their pipes and talked about the floundered boat but Molly walked upon the cliff and never feared the rain she called the name of one she loved and bit him come again young Peter pulled the cabbage stump to win a wealthy wife Rosanna threw the apple peel to know who'd share her life and Lizzie had a looking glass she'd hid in some dark place to try if there forance to her own she'd see her comrade's face but Molly walked along the key where Terry's feet had trod and sobbed her grief out in the night with no one near but God she heard the laughter from the house she heard the fiddle played she called her dead love to her side why should she be afraid she took his cold hands in her own she had no thought of dread and not a star looked out to watch the living kiss the dead the lads are gaming with the girls and laughing by the fire but Molly in the cold dark night has found her heart's desire End of Hallows' Eam The Swinging Apples by Alice Hall Burnett Coffee Break Collection 24 Ghosts, Girls Spooky Things This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Chad Horner from LibriVox The Swinging Apples Mother Brian now whispered something in Fat's ear and with the broad grin Fat disappeared through the door leading to the kitchen In another moment he reappeared curring two large well greased pans in his hands at once the boys all crowded out the fireplace trying to help and in less time than it takes to tell the taffy that had been boiling in the large pot was poured into the pans and set away to cool by Jiminy I hope it tastes as good as it smells observed toad I'm sure it will replied Mother Brian with a smile Stand in line ordered Chuck while I tie your hands behind your backs but making believe to cry no silly laugh Chuck adding everyone take off his slip now we need our whole faces to play this game toad with the help of Father Brian then placed a long pole so that the ends rested on the top of two bookcases and from it hung many bright red apples tied on with strings Now said Chuck the fellow who can take one bite out of an apple without using anything to steady it with get surprise me first cried Herbie alright was the reply go ahead and Herbie started at first it seemed very easy but whenever he got ready to take a good bite the apple always slipped away the boys all laughed as Herbie made one dive after another I have a bite cried ready I picked that one out for you Herbie then gave the apple a push and stood with his mouth wide open waiting the return swing but instead of getting a bite the apple landed on his nose that fairly rolled over with laughter and after a few more attempts Herbie gave up his place to Lynn Smith then Father Brian took Herbie's apple off the string and tossing it to him said here's the booby prize Lynn had no better luck than Herbie although he tried his hardest the apple always bobbed about his head rolling away just as he thought he had it your next cried out toad as fat stepped forward toward the apples good evening said fat buying though I've a very empty feeling would you like to step inside a hurry up shout it ready I want to turn sometime tonight so do I chimed in hopey smith fat grinned don't be in such a hurry it never pays he retorted again and again he tried but did no better than the rest hopey Smith who followed had no success and then came ready stern bending down he brought his face up under the lower end of the apple and opening his mouth very wide bringing his teeth together with a quick snap he succeeded in biting a piece out of the apple Dandy shouted toad he gets surprise and as he handed the winner a box ready opened it and it's claimed oh that's a knife that's great and I need it one too that's a beauty declared herbie you're lucky red end of the swinging apples the terror by Gidemaw Pasant coffee break collection 24 ghosts, goals and spooky things this is a LibriBox recording all LibriBox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriBox.org the terror you said you cannot possibly understand it and I believe you you think I am losing my mind perhaps I am but for other reasons than those you imagine my dear friend yes I am going to be married and will tell you what has led me to take that step I may add that I know very little of the girl who is going to become my wife tomorrow I have only seen her four or five times I know that there is nothing unpleasing about her and that is enough for my purpose she's small fair and stout so of course the day after tomorrow I shall ardently wish for a tall dark thin woman she's not rich and belongs to the middle classes she's a girl such as you may find by the girls well adapted for matrimony without any apparent faults and with no particularly striking qualities people say of her Madmosella Joel is a very nice girl and tomorrow they will say what a very nice woman Madame Raymond is she belongs in a world that immense number of girls are glad to have for one's wife till the moment comes when one discovers that one happens to prefer all other women to that particular woman whom one has married well you will say to me what on earth did you get married for I hardly like to tell you the strange and seemingly improbable reasons that urged me onto the senseless act the fact however is that I am afraid of being alone I don't know how to tell you but my state of mind is so wretched that you will pity me and despise me I do not want to be alone any longer at night I want to feel that there is someone close to me, touching me a being who can speak and say something no matter what it be I wish to be able to awaken somebody by my side so that I may be able to ask some sudden question a stupid question even if I feel inclined so that I may hear a human voice I feel that there is some waking soul close to me someone whose reason is at work so that when I hastily light the candle I may see some human face by my side because I am ashamed to confess it because I am afraid of being alone oh you don't understand me yet I am not afraid of any danger if a man were to come into the room I should kill him without trembling I am not afraid of ghosts nor do I believe in the supernatural I am not afraid of that people for I believe in the total annihilation of every being that disappears from the face of this earth well, yes, well it must be told, I am afraid of myself afraid of that horrible sensation of incomprehensible fear you may laugh if you like it is terrible and I cannot get over it I am afraid of the walls of the furniture of the familiar objects which are animated as far as I am concerned by a kind of animal life above all I am afraid of my own dreadful thoughts of my reason which seems as if it were about to leave me driven away by a mysterious and invisible agony at first I feel a bag of unisonness in my mind which causes a cold shiver to run all over me I look around and of course nothing is to be seen and I wish that there were something there no matter what as long as it there is something tangible I am frightened merely because I cannot understand my own terror if I speak, I am afraid of my own voice if I walk, I am afraid of I know not what behind the door, behind the curtains in the cardboard or under my bed and yet all the time I know there is nothing anywhere and I turn around suddenly because I am afraid of what is behind me although there is nothing there and I know it I become agitated during crisis and so I shut myself up in my own room get into bed and hide under the clothes and there, covering down rolled into a ball I close my eyes in despair and remained thus for an indefinite time remembering that my candle is a light on the table by my bedside and that I ought to put it out and yet I dare not do it it is very terrible, it is not to be like that formerly I felt nothing of all that quite calm and went up and down my apartment without anything disturbing my peace of mind had one told me that I should be attacked by a malady for I can call it nothing else of most improbable fear such a stupid and terrible malady as it is I shouldn't have laugh outright I was certainly never afraid of opening the door in the dark I went to bed slowly without locking it and never got up in the middle of the night to make sure nothing was firmly closed it began last year in a very strange manner on a damp autumn evening when my servant had left the room after I had died I asked myself what I was going to do I walked up and down my room for some time feeling tired without any reason for it unable to work and even without energy to read a fine green was falling and I felt unhappy I prayed one of those feats of despondency without any apparent cause which make us feel inclined to cry or to talk no matter to whom so as to shake off our depressing thoughts I felt that I was alone and my rooms seemed to me to be more empty than they had ever been before I was in the midst of infinite and overwhelming solitude what was I to do I sat down but a kind of nervous impatient seemed to affect my legs so I got up and began to walk about again I was perhaps rather feverish for my hands which I had clasped behind me as one often does when walking slowly almost seemed to burn one another then suddenly a cold shiver ran down my back and I thought the damp air might have penetrated into my rooms so I lit the fire for the first time that year and sat down again and looked at the flames but soon I felt that I could not possibly remain quiet and so I got up again and determined to go out to pull myself together and to find a friend to bury me company I could not find anyone so I walked to the boulevard to try and meet some acquaintance or other there it was wretch everywhere and the wet pavement glistened in the gaslight while the oppressive warmth of the almost impapable rain lay heavenly over the streets and seemed to obscure the light of the lamps I went on slowly saying to myself I shall not find a soul to talk to I glanced into several cafes from the Madeleine as far as the Faubourg Poisionery and saw many unhappy looking individuals sitting at the tables who did not seem even to have enough energy left to finish the refreshments they had ordered for a long time I wandered endlessly up and down and about midnight I started for home I was very calm and very tired my janitor opened the door at once which was quite unusual for him and I thought that another lodger had probably just come in when I go out I always double lock the door of my room and I found it merely closed which surprised me but I supposed that some letters had been brought up for me in the course of the evening I went in and found my fire still burning so that it light up the room a little and while in the act of taking up a candle I noticed somebody sitting in my armchair by the fire warming his feet with his back towards me I was not in the slightest degree frightened I thought very naturally that some friend or other had come to see me no doubt the porter to whom I had said I was going out had led him his own key in a moment I remembered all the circumstances of my return how the street door had been opened immediately and that my own door was only latch and not locked I could see nothing of my friend but his head and he had evidently gone to sleep while waiting for me so I went up to him to rouse him I saw him quite distinctly his right arm was hanging down and his legs were crossed the position of his head which was somewhat inclined to the left of the armchair seemed to indicate that he was asleep who can it be I asked myself I could not see clearly as the room was rather dark so I put out my hand to touch him on the shoulder and he came in contact with the back of the chair there was nobody there the seat was empty I fairly jumped with fright for a moment I drew back as if confronted by some terrible danger then I turned around again impaled by an imperious standing upright panting with fear so upset that I could not collect my thoughts and ready to faint but I am a cool man and soon recovered myself I thought it is a mere hallucination that is all and I immediately began to reflect on this phenomenon thoughts fly quickly at such moments I had been suffering from an hallucination that was an incontestable fact my mind had been perfectly lucid and had act regularly and logically so there was nothing to matter with the brain it was only my eyes that had been deceived they had had a vision one of those visions which lead simple folk to believe in miracles it was a nervous seizure of the optical apparatus nothing more the eyes were rather congested perhaps I lit my candle I want to stoop down to the fire in doing so I noticed that I was trembling and I raised myself up with a jump as if somebody had touched me from behind I was certainly not by any means calm I walked up and down a little hum a tune or two then I double locked the door and felt rather reassured now at any rate nobody could come in I sat down again and thought over my adventure for a long time then I went to bed and blew out my light for some minutes all went well I lay quietly on my back but presently an irresistible desire ceased me to look around the room and I turned over on my side my fire was nearly out and a few glowing embers threw a faint light on the floor by the chair where I fancied I saw the man sitting again I quickly struck match but I had been mistaken there was nothing there I got up however and hit the chair behind my bed and tried to go to sleep as the room was now dark but I had not forgotten myself for more than five minutes when in my dream I saw all the scene which I had previously witnessed as clearly as if it were reality I woke up with the start and having lit the candles set up in bed without venturing even to try to go to sleep again twice however sleep overcame me for a few moments in spite of myself and twice I saw the same thing again till I fancied I was going mad when they broke however I thought that I was cured and slept peacefully till noon it was all past and over I had been discouraged had had the nightmare I know not what I had been ill in fact but yet thought I was a great fool I enjoyed myself thoroughly that evening I dined at the restaurant and afterward went to the theater and then started for home but as I got near the house I was once more seized by a strange feeling of uneasiness I was afraid of seeing him again I was not afraid of him not afraid of his presence in which I lived but I was afraid of being deceived again I was afraid of some fresh hallucination afraid lest fear should take possession of me for more than an hour I wandered up and down the pavement then feeling that I was really too foolish I returned home I breathed so hard that I could hardly get upstairs and remained standing outside my door for more than 10 minutes then suddenly I had a courageous impulse and my will asserted itself I inserted my key into the lock and went into the apartment with a candle in my head I kicked open my bedroom door which was partly open and cast a frightened glance towards the fireplace there was nothing there ah what a relief and what a delight what a deliverance I walked up and down bristly and boldly but I was not altogether reassured and kept turning around with a jump the very close in the corners disquited me I slept badly and was constantly disturbed by imaginary noises but did not see him no that was all over since that time I had been afraid of being alone at night I feel that the specter is there close to me around me but it has not appeared to me again and supposing it did what will it matter since I do not live in it and know that it is nothing still it's however it still because I am constantly thinking of it his right arm hanging down and his head inclined to the left like a man who was asleep I don't want to think about it why however am I so persistently possessed with this idea his feet were close to the fire he haunts me it is very stupid but who and what is he I know that he does not exist except in my cowardly imagination in my fears and in my agony there and half of that yes it is all very well for me to reason with myself to stiffen my backbone so to say but I cannot remain at home because I know he is there I know I shall not see him again he will not show himself again that is all over but he is there all the same in my thoughts he remains invisible but that does not prevent his being there he is behind the doors in the closed cupboard in the wardrobe under the bed in every dark corner if I open the door or the cupboard if I take the candle to look under the bed and throw a light on the dark places he is there no longer but I feel that he is behind me I turn around certain that I shall not see him that I shall never see him again but for all that he is behind me it is very stupid it is dreadful what to do I cannot help it but if there were two of us in that place I feel certain that he would not be there any longer for he is there just because I am alone simply and solely because I am alone end of the terror the witch tells fortunes come in invite a father and the boys standing in a grip watching the knob of the door turn slowly as it opened silently they saw standing on the threshold a little old woman all bent over a long black key and they saw the door and they saw the door and they saw the door all bent over a long black cape and hood covering her from head to foot she carried a cane with a crook in it and leaned very heavily upon it as she walked muttering to herself she crossed the room and took a seat by the fire her old gray hair fell in strongly locks about her face almost hiding in few suddenly the lights went out leaving the room in darkness safe for the firelight placed the pot before me the voice shaking her stick at fat yes mom said fat hurrying to obey she's got fat scared to death giggled toad to ready from under her cape she now took a small paper bag and poured the contents into the pot before her then standing up she hobbled around it three times waving her arms and humming a queer little tune soon a dull red light glued from within the pot getting brighter and brighter magic whispered toad to hobie smith the old witch now sat down again and took from beneath her cape a small pad a long quill pen and a queer little bottle filled with milky white fluid if you drink any of that you'll get as small as a flea said fat in a low voice the old witch wrapped hard on the floor with her cane herbie come forward she commanded go ahead giggled ready giving him a little push she stepped before the witch she did not notice him at first being very busy riding upon a slip of paper with the quill pen which she dipped into a little ball presently she raised her head and handed him the paper banned low thine ear she said herbie obeyed keep this till I am gone she added then hold it over yonder candlelight where thy fortune is written there each boy was now called in turn to receive a slip of paper then the old witch arose to those who obey my commands good luck to those who disobey el fortune she cried shaking her stick in the air and in another moment she had quickly pulled from the room chuck and I turned on the lights and Lynn exclaimed where on earth did she ever come from why witches come out of the air exclaimed toad they travel on a broomstick let's see what she wrote on the papers proposed hopey smith yes agreed ready she told me to hold it over the candlelight at which chuck came forward with a candle that he placed on the center table holding his slip of paper before the flame the other boys eagerly gathered about to watch soon the paper got hot and theirs began to appear look there's an a and two e's and and cried chuck it's quite plain now I can read it go on shout it ready let's hear it chuck began if your head will roll your heart from a cent you'll never part so tell your heart to roll your head and all will mourn you when you're dead that means if you're stingy no one will care when you're gone exclaimed Lynn at which chuck laughed with the others herbie now held his over the light and as the letters appeared he'd read don't always be into great haste it often means a dreadful waste await your turn and take with ease the peace you want with fingers greased that's you and the mollusks candy laughed ready adding here's mine your hair may be of brilliant hue but this should never bother you for when the winter winds blow most your head will be as warm as toast that's great cried ready as all the boys laughed fat now held slip over the flame and as the words appeared read slowly if you should eat a pound of lemons every other day you'll grow as lean as any pole for so I've heard folks say but if upon the other hand you keep on eating pie you'll grow so big and round and tall you'll almost reach the sky you'd better be careful fat and buy a barrel of lemons suggested toad I'll order a wagon load green fat hope he now held his paper near the candle and in a moment read if you're the lad to find the coin that's hidden in the floor you the highest will enjoy of health and wealth and power toad's turn now came and upon his paper was written you're very fond of teasing all the girls and pulling off the ribbons from their curls but mark my words these tricks surely, Rue, for when you're grown a few they'll play on you that's a good one for you to remember toad laugh the others Lynn now read your mouth may be large as I've often heard you say but your words show a brain that is working you'll go to the top of the ladder because you do what you do without jerking the old witch must have liked you, Lynn comment it ready that's the best yet of the witch tales fortunes the following account is taken from the report of the San Francisco examiner and is certainly one of the most striking cases of the character on record it is not put forward as strictly evidential but it's interesting nature certainly warrants its insertion in this volume soon after the Walsinghams took up their abode in their new home they began to be disturbed by strange sounds and odd phenomena these disturbances generally took the form of noises in the house after the family had retired and the lights had been extinguished continual banging of the doors things overturned the doorbell rang and the annoying of the house dog a large and intelligent Mastiff one day Don Caesar the Mastiff was found in the hallway barking furiously and pristling with rage while his eyes seemed directed to the wall just before him at last he made a spring forward with a horse-yelp of ungovernable fury only to fall back as if flung down by some powerful and cruel hand upon examination it was found that his neck had been broken the house cat on the contrary seemed rather to enjoy the favor of the ghost and would often enter a door as if escorting some visitor whose hand was stroking her back she would also climb about a chair rubbing herself and purring as if well pleased at the presence of someone in the seat she and Don Caesar invariably manifested this eccentric conduct at the same time as though the mysterious being were visible to both of them the annoying visitant finally took to arousing the family at all hours of the night by making such a row as to render any rest impossible this noise which consisted of shouts groans, hideous laughter and a peculiar, most distressing wail would sometimes proceed, apparently from under the house sometimes from the ceiling and at other times in the very room in which the family was seated one night Miss Amelia Walsingham the young lady daughter was engaged at her toilet when she felt a hand softly laid on her shoulder thinking at her mother or sister she glanced at the glass before her only to be thunderstruck at seeing the mirror reflect no form but her own though she could plainly see a man's broad hand lying on her arm she brought the family to her by her screams but when they reached her all sign of the mysterious hand had gone Mr. Walsingham himself saw footsteps form beside his own while walking through the garden after a light rain the marks were those of a man's naked feet and fell beside his own as if the person walked it aside matters grew so serious that the Walsinghams became frightened and talked of leaving the house when an event took place which confirmed them in this determination the family was seated at the supper table with several guests who were spending the evening when a loud groan was heard in the room overhead this was, however, nothing unusual and very little notice was taken of it until one of the visitors pointed out a stain of what looked like blood on the white tablecloth and it was seen that some liquid was slowly dripping on the table from the ceiling overhead this liquid was so much like freshly shed blood that it horrified those who watched it slow dropping Mr. Walsingham, with several of his guests ran hastily upstairs and into the room directly over the one in which the blood was dripping a carpet covered the floor and nothing appeared to explain the source of the ghastly rain but anxious to satisfy themselves thoroughly the carpet was immediately ripped up and the boarding found to be perfectly dry and even covered with a thin layer of dust and all the while the floor was being examined the persons below could swear the blood never ceased to drop a stain the size of a dinner plate was formed before the drops ceased to fall this stain was examined the next day under the microscope and was pronounced by competent chemists to be human blood the Walsinghams left the house next day and since then the place has been apparently given over to spooks and evil spirits which make the night hideous with the noise of revel, shouts, and furious yells hundreds from all over this county and adjacent ones have visited the place but few have had the courage to pass the night in the haunted house one daring spirit however Horace Gunn of Savannah accepted a wager that he could not spend 24 hours in it but he did so though he declares that there is not enough money in the country to make him pass another night there he was found the morning after by his friends with whom he made the wager in a swoon he has never recovered from the shock of his horrible experience and is still confined to his bed suffering from nervous prostration his story is that shortly after nightfall he endeavored to kindle a fire in one of the rooms and to light the lamp with which he had provided himself but to his surprise and consternation found it impossible to do either an icy breath which seemed to proceed from some invisible person at his side extinguished each match as he lighted it at this peculiarly terrifying turn of affairs Mr. Gunn would have left the house and forfeited the amount of his wager a considerable one but he was restrained by the fear of ridicule he steadied himself in the dark with what calmness he could and waited developments for some time nothing occurred and the young man was half dosing when after an hour or two he was brought to his feet by a sudden yell of pain or rage that seemed to come from under the house this appeared to be the signal for an outbreak of hideous noises all over the house the sound of running feet could be heard scurrying up and down the stairs hastening from one room to another as if one person fled from the pursuit of a second this kept up for nearly an hour but at last ceased altogether and for some time Mr. Gunn sat in darkness and quiet that about concluded that the performance was over for the night at last however his attention was attracted by a white spot that gradually appeared on the opposite wall the spot continued to brighten until it seemed a disc of white fire when the horrified spectator saw that the light emanated from and surrounded a human head which without a body or any visible means of support was moving slowly along the wall about the height of a man from the floor this ghastly head appeared to be that of an aged person the weather male or female it was difficult to determine the hair was long and grey and matted together with dark clots of blood which also issued from a deep jagged wound in one temple the cheeks were fallen in the face indicated suffering an unspeakable misery the eyes were wide open and gleamed with an unearthly fire while the glassy eyes seemed to follow the terror stricken Gunn who was too thoroughly paralyzed by what he saw to move or cry out finally the head disappeared and the room was once more left in darkness but the young man could hear what seemed to be half a dozen persons moving about him the whole house shook as if rocked by some violent earthquake the groaning and the wailing that broke forth from every direction was something terrific and an unearthly rattle and banging as of china or tin pans being flung to the ground floor from the upper story added to the deafening noise Gunn at last roused himself sufficiently to try and leave the haunted house feeling his way along the wall in order to avoid the beings whatever they were that filled the room the young man had nearly succeeded in reaching the door when he found himself seized by the ankle and was violently thrown to the floor he was grasped by icy hands which sought to grip him about the throat he struggled with his unseen foe but was soon overpowered and choked into insensibility when found by his friends his throat was black with the marks of long thin fingers armed with cruel curved nails the only explanation which can be found for these mysterious manifestations is that about three months before a number of bones were discovered on the Walsingham place which some declared even then to be those of a human being Mr. Walsingham pronounced them however to be in animals and they were hastily thrown into an adjacent mime kiln it is supposed to be the outraged spirit of a person to whom they belonged in life which is now creating such consternation End of A Haunted House in Georgia Recording by Andrea Kotzer