A heart in a jar, a hand on a wall, a haunted house at night - what is it that makes horror stories so incredibly compelling, stories once heard make such a deep impression and we can vividly recall scenes and images years later? Perhaps H. For example, the setting: a gathering in front of a fireplace where a judge expounds on a much discussed inexplicable, "unnatural" Paris crime.
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It is your responsibility to check the applicable copyright laws in your country before downloading this work. These men still came together once in a while without their wives as they had done when they were bachelors.
They would eat for a long time, drink for a long time; they would talk of everything, stir up those old and joyful memories which bring a smile to the lip and a tremor to the heart. You return married! You have the most charming wife in the world, pretty, amiable, perfect! You are undoubtedly the happiest one of us all.
I was thirty-five, and I had no more idea of marrying than I had of hanging myself. Young girls seemed to me to be inane, and I loved pleasure.
It was a regular Normandy wedding. I had been paired off, for the occasion, with a Mademoiselle Dumoulin, daughter of a retired colonel, a young, blond, soldierly person, well formed, frank and talkative.
She took complete possession of me for the whole day, dragged me into the park, made me dance willy-nilly, bored me to death.
Farmers and peasant girls were jumping about in a circle yelling at the top of their lungs a dance air which was feebly accompanied by two violins and a clarinet. The wild song of the peasants often completely drowned the sound of the instruments, and the weak music, interrupted by the unrestrained voices, seemed to come to us in little fragments of scattered notes.
Two enormous casks, surrounded by flaming torches, contained drinks for the crowd. Two men were kept busy rinsing the glasses or bowls in a bucket and immediately holding them under the spigots, from which flowed the red stream of wine or the golden stream of pure cider; and the parched dancers, the old ones quietly, the girls panting, came up, stretched out their arms and grasped some receptacle, threw back their heads and poured down their throats the drink which they preferred.
On a table were bread, butter, cheese and sausages. Each one would step up from time to time and swallow a mouthful, and under the starlit sky this healthy and violent exercise was a pleasing sight, and made one also feel like drinking from these enormous casks and eating the crisp bread and butter with a raw onion.
I must admit that I was probably a little tipsy, but I was soon entirely so. In order to refresh myself afterward, I swallowed a bowlful of cider, and I began to bounce around as if possessed.
The boys, delighted, were watching me and trying to imitate me; the girls all wished to dance with me, and jumped about heavily with the grace of cows. Everybody was asleep and the house was silent and dark.My Wife. It had been a stag dinner.
These men still came together once in a while without their wives as they had done when they were bachelors. They would eat for a long time, drink for a long time; they would talk of everything, stir up those old and joyful memories which bring a .
“I like to tell people I have the heart of a small boy, then I tell them it's in a jar on my desk.” The ghastliness and horror of this quote from Robert Bloch, author of Psycho isn’t that far removed, in spirit, from The Hand, a four-page literary jewel written by nineteenth century French author Guy de Maupassant.A heart in a jar, a hand on a wall, a haunted house at night - what is it /5.
19th century French member of aristocratic family, who's wealth was lost in Franco-Prussian war. After being forced to become a clerk, he started writing short stories. He is a master, writing stories before his early death. His characters are suddenly caught up in forces beyond their control.
Jan 26, · Guy de Maupassant. My Wife (Ma femme) First published in My Wife. It had been a stag dinner. These men still came together once in a while without their wives as they had done when they were bachelors. They would eat for a long time, drink for a long time; they would talk of everything, stir up those old and joyful memories which Author: Maupassant, Guy De, The Hand by Guy de Maupassant and a great selection of related books, art and collectibles available now at initiativeblog.com May 30, · The Hand (Short Stories) [Guy de Maupassant] on initiativeblog.com *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers.
A man who keeps a severed hand attached to the wall of his drawing room is found mysteriously strangled at the same time that the hand disappears.4/4(2).