Skull-Face - ebook

Contents

1. THE FACE IN THE MIST

2. THE HASHISH SLAVE

3. THE MASTER OF DOOM

4. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY

5. THE MAN ON THE COUCH

6. THE DREAM GIRL

7. THE MAN OF THE SKULL

8. BLACK WISDOM

9. KATHULOS OF EGYPT

10. THE DARK HOUSE

11. FOUR THIRTY-FOUR

12. THE STROKE OF FIVE

13. THE BLIND BEGGAR WHO RODE

14. THE BLACK EMPIRE

15. THE MARK OF THE TULWAR

16. THE MUMMY WHO LAUGHED

17. THE DEAD MAN FROM THE SEA

18. THE GRIP OF THE SCORPION

19. DARK FURY

20. ANCIENT HORROR

21. THE BREAKING OF THE CHAIN1. – THE FACE IN THE MIST

We are no other than a moving row
Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go."
–Omar Khayyam

THE horror first took concrete form amid that most unconcrete of all things–a hashish dream. I was off on a timeless, spaceless journey through the strange lands that belong to this state of being, a million miles away from earth and all things earthly; yet I became cognizant that something was reaching across the unknown voids–something that tore ruthlessly at the separating curtains of my illusions and intruded itself into my visions.

I did not exactly return to ordinary waking life, yet I was conscious of a seeing and a recognizing that was unpleasant and seemed out of keeping with the dream I was at that time enjoying. To one who has never known the delights of hashish, my explanation must seem chaotic and impossible. Still, I was aware of a rending of mists and then the Face intruded itself into my sight. I though at first it was merely a skull; then I saw that it was a hideous yellow instead of white, and was endowed with some horrid form of life. Eyes glimmered deep in the sockets and the jaws moved as if in speech. The body, except for the high, thin shoulders, was vague and indistinct, but the hands, which floated in the mists before and below the skull, were horribly vivid and filled me with crawling fears. They were like the hands of a mummy, long, lean and yellow, with knobby joints and cruel curving talons.

Then, to complete the vague horror which was swiftly taking possession of me, a voice spoke–imagine a man so long dead that his vocal organ had grown rusty and unaccustomed to speech. This was the thought which struck me and made my flesh crawl as I listened.

“A strong brute and one who might be useful somehow. See that he is given all the hashish he requires.”

Then the face began to recede, even as I sensed that I was the subject of conversation, and the mists billowed and began to close again. Yet for a single instant a scene stood out with startling clarity. I gasped–or sought to. For over the high, strange shoulder of the apparition another face stood out clearly for an instant, as if the owner peered at me. Red lips, half-parted, long dark eyelashes, shading vivid eyes, a shimmery cloud of hair. Over the shoulder of Horror, breathtaking beauty for an instant looked at me.