'This reaction of dread is also experienced by many witnesses of water monsters today and has been noted by both Tim Dinsdale and F. W. Holiday when interviewing them. Holiday wrote to Dinsdale: "When people are confronted by this fantastic animal at close quarters they seem to be stunned. There is something strange about Nessie that has nothing ( Read more... )

Somebody seemed to follow me to work yesterday night - generic young white man; generic young-white-man clothes (light grey hoodie, I think; white T-shirt underneath); tallish, at least compared to me. I'm still not sure if he really had a sinister motive or not ( Read more... )

( Oh, Buster Crabbe, why must you be so screencappable? )

Cartimandua: down; Cunning-Folk: finito. Atwood and du Maurier: read, read, readski. And I'm chomping my way through Jane Eyre like some obscure literary version of the Very Hungry Caterpillar - a constant source of surprise to me, considering that I apparently never got more than five chapters deep in the thing as a kid ('it's supposed to be ( Read more... )

Extra-odd hypnogogia - being slowly wakened by very loud music (Gerry Rafferty's 'Baker Street') apparently coming from inside my head. I can't even blame my fillings, because I don't have any ( Read more... )

I think I'm going to bear this story in mind next time a clearly guilty man gets off with a heinous crime:

( I amme sick to mye Hart of typeſettinge )

Haunted corridor again last night. It's still like walking into a Kubrick film ( Read more... )

I can't sleep, because I'm going to die someday.

I just know I'm going to ruin it. I'll be floating serenely down the dark tunnel into the light and thinking things like 'hallucination!' and 'do Caesarian births get this, too?' and 'dear LiveJournal...'. I can't help it. I'm a note-taker.

And the major part of the trouble is just, you know, ( Read more... )

Today, I woke up very annoyed. I'm not sure how or why. One minute I was cradled in the surprisingly burly arms of sleep, and the next I was glowering intensely at a chair, daring it to Start ( Read more... )

'"Wait till you see the bedrooms," Eleanor said. "Mine used to be the embalming room, I think."

'"It's the home I've always dreamed of," Theodora said. "A little hideaway where I can be alone with my thoughts. Particularly if my thoughts happened to be about murder or suicide or -"'

- 'The Haunting of Hill House' by Shirley Jackson [1959]
. . ( Read more... )