Marsh Richard eBooks

A Spoiler of Men. E-book. Formato PDF Richard Marsh   -  Forgotten Books, 2017  - 

Cyril Wentworth appeared to have Lady Luck on his side. He was good looking, wealthy, socially notable and with designs on the political world and a notable fiancée Wentworth was turning eyes across London green with jealousy. Not all was quite as perfect as it may have first appeared however. A shadow from his dark past began to fall firmly over the dark streets and alleyways. In his student days, under the tuition of Professor Ehrenberg, Wentworth made a terrible discovery. A drug that with just a small nick from a needle could turn sane men into slavering zombies. Now years on he has schemed up a way to use his horrible invention to make himself an awful lot of money. In his travels under his assumed name ‘Jack the Chemist’ he meets a young woman who seems to know too much, far too much but who is she and what does she want? Can she prevent Wentworth’s master plan or will she fall foul of his scheming herself?In what is arguably the first example of English zombie fiction, crime, horror and a dry sense of humour blend into an intensely satisfying read. This edition, published in 1921, features the unabridged text of a classic Victorian penny dreadful. Our heroine is impressive, our villain is dastardly and the chase is exhilarating. Literary enthusiasts will enjoy 'A Spoiler of Men' as an early iteration of crime fiction and an outstanding example of the developing genre but those who simply want a page turner will also be catered for expertly.

The Beetle: A Mystery. E-book. Formato PDF Richard Marsh   -  Midwest Journal Press, 2020  - 

Three Days of Terror in 1800's London, as a goddess entity from Ancient Egypt arrives to take her revenge. "The Beetle: A Mystery" is an 1897 horror novel by the popular British writer Richard Marsh. A polymorphous Ancient Egyptian entity seeks revenge on a British Member of Parliament. It initially out-sold Bram Stoker's similar horror story Dracula, which appeared the same year. The story is told from four points of view, which generally flow from each other with limited scene repetition. In order, the four narrators are Robert Holt, Sydney Atherton, Marjorie Lindon, and Augustus Champnell. The story is written down as elaborate testimonies gathered by Champnell, who is a detective and who, despite only appearing during his own narration, provides the context of the antagonists' motives and the wrap-up of how the rest of the cast fared after the adventure. The events described are insinuated to be based on fact and several names used in the novel are supposedly altered to protect the identities of those involved. The year is not given, but everything takes place over a three-day period around 2 June on a Friday. Excerpt: What it was that was with me I could not tell; I could not even guess. It was as though something in my mental organisation had been stricken by a sudden paralysis. It may seem childish to use such language; but I was overwrought, played out; physically speaking, at my last counter; and, in an instant, without the slightest warning, I was conscious of a very curious sensation, the like of which I had never felt before, and the like of which I pray that I never may feel again,—a sensation of panic fear. I remained rooted to the spot on which I stood, not daring to move, fearing to draw my breath. I felt that the presence with me in the room was something strange, something evil. I do not know how long I stood there, spell-bound, but certainly for some considerable space of time. By degrees, as nothing moved, nothing was seen, nothing was heard, and nothing happened, I made an effort to better play the man. I knew that, at the moment, I played the cur. And endeavoured to ask myself of what it was I was afraid. I was shivering at my own imaginings. What could be in the room, to have suffered me to open the window and to enter unopposed? Whatever it was, was surely to the full as great a coward as I was, or why permit, unchecked, my burglarious entry. Since I had been allowed to enter, the probability was that I should be at liberty to retreat,—and I was sensible of a much keener desire to retreat than I had ever had to enter. I had to put the greatest amount of pressure upon myself before I could summon up sufficient courage to enable me to even turn my head upon my shoulders,—and the moment I did so I turned it back again. What constrained me, to save my soul I could not have said,—but I was constrained. My heart was palpitating in my bosom; I could hear it beat. I was trembling so that I could scarcely stand. I was overwhelmed by a fresh flood of terror. I stared in front of me with eyes in which, had it been light, would have been seen the frenzy of unreasoning fear. My ears were strained so that I listened with an acuteness of tension which was painful... Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.