At age twenty-one, Rhode Island’s most famous master of the macabre, H. P. Lovecraft, was a high school drop-out; an awkward and emotionally crippled shut-in who wrote all night and slept by day. His only pleasures came from weaving his own bizarre, fledgling stories and composing his science column for The Providence Journal. A request to edit a U.S. edition of Bram Stoker’s Dracula emboldens him to investigate Rhode Island’s own vampire legend, Mercy Brown, resulting in a showdown that would forever change the literature of horror!
s he reversed the car, I couldn’t help but look back at the pitch black graveyard. There was a round, blue orb of light hovering over the area where Mercy Brown was buried. I didn’t bother alerting Bernie to its presence. I knew it was there expressly for me.
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On the ride home, even after I’d calmed, I could not shake the distinct feeling that we were being followed. There wasn’t another soul on the road, and I felt silly as I looked behind us for the fifth time. View full article »
