The Red Room By: H. G. Wells (1866-1946) |
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The Red Room by H. G. Wells is a captivating and suspenseful tale that delves into the supernatural. The story follows a young man who decides to spend the night in a haunted room in an old castle, despite warnings from the locals. As the night progresses, he experiences a series of chilling and inexplicable occurrences that leave him questioning his own sanity.
Wells masterfully builds tension and creates a sense of unease throughout the story, making the reader feel as though they are right there in the room with the protagonist. The eerie atmosphere and haunting descriptions of the red room itself add to the overall sense of dread and foreboding.
The characters are well-developed and the writing is crisp and concise, keeping the reader engaged from start to finish. The ending is both shocking and satisfying, wrapping up the story in a way that leaves a lasting impact.
Overall, The Red Room is a classic ghost story that showcases Wells' talent for creating suspenseful and thought-provoking tales. Fans of the supernatural and psychological thrillers will surely enjoy this eerie and atmospheric read. By H. G. Wells "It's your own choosing," said the man with the withered arm once more. I heard the faint sound of a stick and a shambling step on the flags in the passage outside. The door creaked on its hinges as a second old man entered, more bent, more wrinkled, more aged even than the first. He supported himself by the help of a crutch, his eyes were covered by a shade, and his lower lip, half averted, hung pale and pink from his decaying yellow teeth. He made straight for an armchair on the opposite side of the table, sat down clumsily, and began to cough. The man with the withered hand gave the newcomer a short glance of positive dislike; the old woman took no notice of his arrival, but remained with her eyes fixed steadily on the fire. "I said it's your own choosing," said the man with the withered hand, when the coughing had ceased for a while. "It's my own choosing," I answered. The man with the shade became aware of my presence for the first time, and threw his head back for a moment, and sidewise, to see me. I caught a momentary glimpse of his eyes, small and bright and inflamed. Then he began to cough and splutter again. "Why don't you drink?" said the man with the withered arm, pushing the beer toward him. The man with the shade poured out a glassful with a shaking hand, that splashed half as much again on the deal table... Continue reading book >>
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Literature |
Short stories |
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