VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.scarystories.ca Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy

Home Ghost Stories Categories Authors Books Search

Ghost Stories

Ghost Hunters Of Yesterday And To-day
Psychical research, of which so much mention has been...

The Transferred Ghost
BY FRANK R. STOCKTON The country residence of Mr. ...

A Man With Two Lives
Here is the queer story of David William Duck, rela...

Visions Of The Dead In Sleep
In most of the Greek and Roman stories that survive, ...

Back From That Bourne
ANONYMOUS We are permitted to make extracts from a...

The Lady In Black
A ghost in a haunted house is seldom observed with anyt...

Prefatory
This work owes its appearance to the absence of any che...

The Benedictine's Voices
My friend, as a lad, was in a strait between the choice...

The Stalls Of Barchester Cathedral
MONTAGUE RHODES JAMES This matter began, as far as...

The Dog Fanti
Mrs. Ogilvie of Drumquaigh had a poodle named Fanti. H...





The Dwarf Hunters






The heavy summer in the South is particularly hard to bear for those who
are ill. The damp heat keeps them awake, and thousands of insects
trouble their rest.

Wang Little-third-one, stretched on his bed made of bamboo laths, where
a low fever kept him, complained of it to all those who came to see him,
especially to his friend the magician officiating priest of the little
temple situated in the neighbouring crossway.

The magician knew something of medicine; he prescribed a calming potion
and retired.

When Little-third-one had drunk the potion, his fever fell and he was
able to enjoy a little sleep. He was awakened by a slight noise; night
had come on; the room was lighted by the full moon, which threw a bright
gleam by the open door.

All the insects were moving and flying hither and thither; white ants
who gnaw wood, bad-smelling bugs, enormous cockroaches, mosquitoes,
innumerable and various flies.

As Little-third-one was looking, his attention was drawn by a movement
on the threshold: a small man, not bigger than a thumb, advanced with
precautious steps; in his hand he held a bow; a sword was hanging at his
side.

Little-third-one, on looking closer, saw two dogs as big as
shirt-buttons running before the man with the bow; they suddenly
stopped: the archer approached, held out his weapon, and discharged the
arrow. A cockroach who was crawling before the dogs made a bound, fell
on its back, moved again, then remained motionless; the arrow had run
through it.

Behind the first huntsman others had come; some were on horseback, armed
with swords; some on foot.

From that time it was a pursuit without intermission; hundreds of
insects were shot. At first the mosquitoes escaped; but as they cannot
fly for long, every time that one remained still it was transpierced by
the huntsmen.

Soon nothing was left of all the insects who broke the silence with
their buzzing, their gnashing of teeth, or their falling.

A horseman then was seen galloping over the room, looking from right to
left. He then gave the signal; all the huntsmen called their dogs, went
towards the door, and disappeared.

Little-third-one had not moved, in order not to disturb the hunt. At
last he peacefully went to sleep, henceforth sure of not being awakened
by a sting or a bite. He awoke late the next day almost cured.

When his friend the magician came to see him, he told him his
experience: the other smiled. Wang understood that the mysterious
hunters came from the little temple.





Next: The Corpse The Blood-drinker

Previous: The Fresco



Add to del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK