Step into the shadowy realm of "Poe's Nightmares," a mesmerizing collection of short stories and poetry penned by the enigmatic Lady Eckland. This anthology is a tribute to the master of the macabre, Edgar Allan Poe, whose spectral whisper resonates...
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The university library was silent except for the occasional shuffling of papers or squeak of a chair. In a dusty, dimly-lit corner, grad student Alex Mercer sat hunched over a mountain of open books, scanning through arcane texts and scribbling notes. Alex brushed back a wisp of brown hair that had fallen across their tired eyes, taking a long draw of cooling coffee.
A thump at the end of the aisle drew Alex’s gaze. A book lay splayed open on the floor. Strange, thought Alex. They were certain no one else was in this remote corner. Curious, they walked over and bent to pick up the book. It was very old, covered in tattered brown leather with frayed edges. The yellowed pages were filled with cryptic symbols and sketches of medieval torture devices. Alex peered closer...was that a giant pendulum, its razor tip poised to slice through...they jerked back. This was no ordinary library book.
Heart racing inexplicably, Alex flipped through more pages. Interspersed among disturbing drawings were fragments of arcane text: “The Guild”, “the vault”, “balance through blood.” Alex’s breath quickened. Were these references to some secret medieval torture cult? But why here, in a modern university library?
Slam! Alex whirled around, but there was no one. Yet they couldn’t escape the prickling feeling of being watched. Gripping the unsettling book, Alex rushed from the abandoned aisle. At the front desk, a stern-looking librarian scanned Alex’s student ID. “Special collections only,” she declared flatly. “No exceptions.”
Safely back in the brightly-lit main hall, Alex tried to study the book further. But the archaic text eluded translation. Frustrated, they stuffed the volume into their backpack; hopefully their medieval history professor could shed some light. Their coffee forgotten, Alex exited the library, the autumn chill foreboding. Again, Alex glimpsed movement from the corner of their eye. They broke into a run across the darkened quadrangle, the wind sweeping dead leaves around their pounding feet.
Professor Bell was delighted Alex had discovered such an intriguing historical artifact. As he gently turned the fragile pages, his academic composure slipped to reveal shock and disbelief. “Incredible,” he muttered. “I’ve only heard rumors, but...” Gesturing Alex to secrecy, Professor Bell explained he had contacts who could help decipher this Guide to the Guild’s secret rituals. Meanwhile, Alex must tell no one. Reclaiming the book with trembling hands, he insisted normal academic rules did not apply here. Lives could be at stake.
As Alex crossed back through the gloom of the quad that night, the shadows seemed to swirl unnaturally around them. From the darkness leapt three figures in crimson robes, roughly grabbing Alex’s arms and stifling any cries. They snapped a fetid hood over Alex’s face and dragged them along echoing stone passages. Fear rising in their throat, Alex struggled futilely against the overwhelming strength of their captors.
The hood was ripped off abruptly. Alex found themself chained within a torch-lit dungeon of damp gray stone. Dark metal blades and pincers glinted on the walls. And there, looming from the shadows, the giant pendulum Alex recognized with horror from the book. Poised inexorably over a blood-stained wooden table, its razor tip swung slowly back and forth, creeping lower with each pass. Scrambling against the manacles biting their wrists, Alex shouted vain questions at the three crimson-robed figures. Silent and impassive, their faces hidden by hoods, they turned in unison and ascended stone steps leading up from the dungeon. A heavy door slammed shut, the bolt sliding home with metallic finality.
