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Liczba pozycji: 40
- Towards the end of his career, Wells write this book, in which he outlined his vision of Utopia. This is the story of a Mr. Barnstaple, an everyday man, who finds himself propelled into a parallel universe with a group of famous politicians, aristocrats, and their chauffeurs. The world they find themselves in has abolished all disease, and everyone only works at what takes their fancy. The inhabitants...
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- The blare of the trumpets grew louder, like a deep golden tide surge, like the soft booming of the evening tides against the silver beaches of Valusia. The throng shouted, women flung roses from the roofs as the rhythmic chiming of silver hosts came clearer and the first of the mighty array swung into view in the broad, white street that curved round the golden-spired Tower of Splendor.
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- A great black shadow lay across the land, cleaving the red flame of the red sunset. To the man who toiled up the jungle trail it loomed like a symbol of death and horror, a menace brooding and terrible, like the shadow of a stealthy assassin flung upon some candle-lit wall.
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- The bottom of the gorge was filled with old lava, black and fragile, like bottle glass, but the rocks that endlessly rose on both sides on an African night were made of limestone. Everything was still like death. Even the jackal did not cry under the stars. For a while no sound was heard except for the gentle shuffling of Nick’s legs as he slowly descended the steep slope. The darkness was terribly...
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- Malcolm Jameson was an American Golden Age science fiction author who began writing only seven years before his death. Drawing from his experiences of navy and warfare he gave a personal touch to all of his stories. He is now chiefly remembered for his Captain Bullard stories which chronicles the journey of a young officer into a fleet admiral of space ship and to most critics seem like a precursor...
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- If you like your horror with a western twist then these tales are for you. Awesome occult western adventure, from the master of strange fiction, Robert E. Howard! This collection includes the following stories: „THE HORROR FROM THE MOUND”, „THE MAN ON THE GROUND”, „OLD GARFIELD’S HEART”, „BLACK CANAAN”, „THE DEAD REMEMBER”, „PIGEONS FROM HELL” and others. Kind of like „Dreams at the Witch House” by...
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- Dick traveled halfway around the world to get to this particular house, and despite his pinkish-white appearance, the boy had a lot of courage. Dick saw a heavy, bloated-looking man, with a fat, flabby face and thick, black hair and eyebrows. His clothes were black, so was his tie; even his finger-nails shared in the general mourning. He looked like a funeral mute off duty.
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- Peter slowly rose to the top. He was in a blue twill suit, his brown shoes were old but well polished, and his soft gray hat looked like a hundred others. If someone tried to watch him, they would take him for a city clerk, enjoying a quiet walk to get that little fresh air that moved on this sinister hot night.
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- Taramis, Queen of Khauran, awakened from a dream-haunted slumber to a silence that seemed more like the stillness of nighted catacombs than the normal quiet of a sleeping place. She lay staring into the darkness, wondering why the candles in their golden candelabra had gone out. A flecking of stars marked a gold-barred casement that lent no illumination to the interior of the chamber.
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- „As the great ’plane roared through the upper air, young Monty Vince sat with his eyes glued to the thick glass window of her enclosed body, and watched the sea of clouds lying like a pearly floor far below. Every nerve in his body tingled with excitement and triumph, for even he, small as was his experience, knew that this first flight of his brother’s new machine was a magnificent success”.
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- Winter closed early over the great desert of the Northwest, and the first dense snow lay on the banks and covered dark trees with a white mantle. Ice formed under the river banks, and its huge layers crumbled under the sound of a choking stern wheel and rattled like broken glass on a track. In the snowy forest thickets, neither human dwellings nor living creatures were visible. The still air was bitter...
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- The early summer morning was warm and very quiet, and the only sound in the bare, barn-like room was the slow sucking of waves at the foot of the granite cliff on which it was built. On the table in the center of the room was a wireless device with five valves, the wires through which passed through the roof. Two thin cords dangled near the wires, the lower ends of which were within the reach of Jim...
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- Fat Mr. Horner might have changed his mind if he could have watched Gilbert’s face as he drove his rattling old motorcycle over the bridge and climbed the steep slope beyond. The young man’s lips were clenched and his eyes were hard. These weekly trips to Taverton were the only gap in the deadly monotony of life in the works of Carnaby Clay, and he hated to return there, like a boy hates to return...
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- Jim was a tall boy, taller than Bart and probably a year older, and would have looked nice if not for his conceited expression. His hair was black as ink, he had very dark eyes, and his skin was darker than that of an ordinary Englishman. Behind him was a small plump guy who looked like a groom or nursery. The new arrival looked at his dogs, then turned to Bart.
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- Swartzberg was a cunning and mysterious man. First, he won all the guys in the cards, and then went out into the street, as if nothing had happened. But the detective who saw this picture, did not trust him. There was something about his personality that repelled him. The detective did not like his dark, heavy features, his swollen eyes, his mustache with curled tips, his thick, red lips, his heavy...
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- This is a collection of classic Lovecraft stories. What readers like about him is how he can terribly make everything seem, a feeling of fear and foreboding that his thick prose can create. These early works of H.P. Lovecraft were originally published in the first half of the 20th century. „The Dunwich Horror’ and ’The Call of Cthulhu’”, which subsequently brought him a place as one of the most influential...
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- The desert shimmered in the heat waves. Conan the Cimmerian stared out over the aching desolation and involuntarily drew the back of his powerful hand over his blackened lips. He stood like a bronze image in the sand, apparently impervious to the murderous sun, though his only garment was a silk loin-cloth, girdled by a wide gold-buckled belt from which hung a saber and a broad-bladed poniard. On his...
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- The long tapers flickered, sending the black shadows wavering along the walls, and the velvet tapestries rippled. Yet there was no wind in the chamber. Four men stood about the ebony table on which lay the green sarcophagus that gleamed like carven jade. In the upraised right hand of each man a curious black candle burned with a weird greenish light. Outside was night and a lost wind moaning among...
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- The roar of battle had died away; the shout of victory mingled with the cries of the dying. Like gay-hued leaves after an autumn storm, the fallen littered the plain; the sinking sun shimmered on burnished helmets, gilt-worked mail, silver breastplates, broken swords and the heavy regal folds of silken standards, overthrown in pools of curdling crimson. In silent heaps lay war- horses and their steel-clad...
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- Set against a Florida background, this story tells of the adventures of Bill Picton and his young companions who trail a gang of moonshiners through the steaming, sluggish swamp-lands. Fitzgordon had never in his life before been in a tropical swamp, and the very first thing he did was to get both feet tangled in a coil of tough bamboo vine, and come down flat on his face on the wet black „muck.” The...
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