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The Thing in the Bedroom by W*ll**m H*pe H*dgs*n [MultiFormat]
eBook by David Langford
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$0.55 |
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$0.47 |
eBook Category: Horror
eBook Description: Dagon Smythe, Psychic Investigator (Langford's send-up of Carnacki the Ghost-Finder) tackles a perverse and raunchy haunting. Not for young readers! Selected by Karl Edward Wagner for Year's Best Horror Stories: Series XII.
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Knave 16:11, 1984
Fictionwise Release Date: June 2004
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [61 KB], eReader (PDB) [27 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [13 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [13 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [64 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [85 KB], hiebook (KML) [37 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [38 KB], iSilo (PDB) [11 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [14 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [42 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [22 KB]
Words: 3716
Reading time: 10-14 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
The circle of initiates about the roaring fire in the King's Head bar had sadly decreased of late, entertaining though the conversation had always been. For one thing, the roaring fire had been superseded by a mournfully bonging radiator; even the popular Mr Jorkens had ceased to come when the landlord installed his third Space Invaders machine. On this particular evening there was little sparkle in the conversation, and far too much in the foaming keg beer: only Major Godalming, Carruthers and old Hyphen-Jones were present, and, passing by an easy transition from gassy beer to chemical warfare and military reminiscences in general, the Major was well into his much-thumbed anecdotes of the earlobe he lost to Rommel, the duelling scar acquired whilst in Heidelberg on a package tour, and the ugly kukri wound he'd received in Bradford. Carruthers and Hyphen-Jones yawned their appreciation and choked down their beer; half-formed excuses about not keeping the wife up too late seemed to be trembling in the air like ectoplasm, when a shadow fell across the table.
"My round, chaps?"
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