451 Mary Shelley
The History of Literature
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Ghost Story - A Ghost Story
The idea so possessed my mind that a thrill of fear ran through me. He would hope that, left to itself, the slight spark of life which he had communicated would fade. And he might sleep in the belief that the silence of the grave would quench forever the transient existence of the hideous corpse. I see them still, the very room, the dark parquet, the closed shutters with the moonlight struggling through. The sense I had that the glassy lake and white high Alps were beyond. Still, it haunted me. I must try to think of something else. If I could only contrive one which would frighten my reader as I myself had been frightened that night.
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