By Mary Fortune, Marcus Clarke, Ernest Favenc, J. E. P. Muddock
Australia has an extended culture of peculiar fiction, stretching again to colonial occasions. The tales during this anthology show off the richness and diversity of Australia horror and supernatural tales within the 19th and early 20th centuries. one of the authors incorporated are: Mary Fortune, Lionel Sparrow, Marcus Clarke, man Boothby, B. L. Farjeon, J. E. P. Muddock, Ernest Favenc, Hume Nisbet, Rosa ("Mrs. Campbell") Praed, Fergus Hume, James Francis Dwyer, and Dulcie Deamer. Editor James Doig has unearthed a unprecedented and compelling number of Australian horror classics that experience remained principally undisturbed within the pages of previous books and periodicals. With settings that diversity from the Australian Outback to Europe, India, and the South Pacific, those 23 specified and resourceful stories characteristic horrors and hauntings which are guaranteed to entice enthusiasts of the macabre in all places!
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Additional info for Australian Gothic: An Anthology of Australian Supernatural Fiction
Lippencott’s papers abound with hypotheses and since-disproved theories, and the writings of his successors only serve to expand the areas of ignorance. The Immortals do not appreciate conundrums, and after the second century post-Shaping, research dwindled and eventually ceased. It was enough that the Treatments worked, and seemed to work successfully. If the Immortals discovered an onset of deterioration at year thousand, I suspected that research would re-open with haste. But year thousand, even for the oldest of the Immortals, was still far in the future, far longer than I would have.
Me? Tia? Perish, I was more human than any of them. I was in direct descent from the apes, from Donne and Heisenberg, from Petrukis and Penderevcki, from Li Po and Lippencott, the Father of Immortality, who discovered the treatments too late to save himself. And they? Lippencott’s Children? Supermen, perhaps, but not human. No, of course not, definitely not human. Not like me. Not like me. Silence from above. I opened the window, breathed the salt air, calmed myself, and began packing. I heard Paul lifting luggage from the upper bedroom balcony to the hopper.
We had an argument about Tobias,” he said as we dropped. Dishonest bastard, I thought. “Well, if you and Jenny are assigned together, that’s where you’ll be. Unless you want to make other arrangements with Greville. ” I stepped off at the third deck. “I’ll see you in half an hour on the bridge. Usual pre-sailing pep talk from Greville. ” 48 Marta Randall—Islands [e-reads] Paul, looking unhappy, dropped out of sight. I walked to my cabin, still angry at the lie. My cabin sat sterile and empty, waiting for me to bring it to life, to key in the forcefields and create beds, tables, chairs.