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E-Book, Englisch, Band 3, 1505 Seiten
Stevenson / Burroughs / Nemo Big Book of Best Short Stories - Volume 3
1. Auflage 2020
ISBN: 978-3-96799-983-9
Verlag: Tacet Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark
E-Book, Englisch, Band 3, 1505 Seiten
Reihe: Big Book of Best Short Stories
ISBN: 978-3-96799-983-9
Verlag: Tacet Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark
Robert Louis Stevenson: Born on November 13, 1850, in Edinburgh, Scotland. Publishing his first volume at the age of 28, Stevenson became a literary celebrity during his life when works such as Treasure Island, Kidnapped, and Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde were released to eager audiences. He died in Samoa in 1894.*Robert E. Howard: Robert E. Howard created Conan the Barbarian in a series of short stories and novels in the 1930's. Born in Peaster, Texas, he was raised in Cross Plains. His fiction was carried in pulp magazines of the time such as Weird Tales, and H.P. Lovecraft was a friend and admirer of his. He committed suicide after holding vigil by his mother's deathbed in 1936.*G. K. Chesterton: G.K. Chesterton was born on May 29, 1874 in London. He was known for writing academic commentary, poetry and short stories. His most popular work was a detective series featuring a sleuth named Father Brown. He died in 1936.*Edgar Wallace: Edgar Wallace was born on April 1, 1875 in Greenwich, London, England as Richard Horatio Edgar Wallace. He was a writer and director, known for King Kong (2005), King Kong (1933) and King Kong (1976). He died on February 10, 1932 in Hollywood, California, USA.*Arthur Machen: Arthur Machen, pseudonym of Arthur Llewellyn Jones, (born March 3, 1863, Caerleon, Monmouthshire, Eng.died Dec. 15, 1947, Beaconsfield, Buckinghamshire), Welsh novelist and essayist, a forerunner of 20th-century Gothic science fiction.*Ambrose Bierce: Ambrose Bierce, in full Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce, Gwinnett also spelled Gwinett (see Researcher's Note), (born June 24, 1842, Meigs county, Ohio, U.S.died 1914, Mexico?), American newspaperman, wit, satirist, and author of sardonic short stories based on themes of death and horror. His life ended in an unsolved mystery.*Talbot Mundy: Talbot Mundy (born William Lancaster Gribbon, 23 April 1879 5 August 1940) was an English-born American writer of adventure fiction. Based for most of his life in the United States, he also wrote under the pseudonym of Walter Galt. Best known as the author of King of the Khyber Rifles and the Jimgrim series, much of his work was published in pulp magazines.*Abraham Merritt: braham Grace Merritt (January 20, 1884 August 21, 1943) known by his byline, A. Merritt was an American Sunday magazine editor and a writer of fantastic fiction. The Science Fiction and Fantasy Hall of Fame inducted him in 1999, its fourth class of two deceased and two living writers*Zane Grey: Pearl Zane Grey (January 31, 1872 October 23, 1939) was an American author and dentist best known for his popular adventure novels and stories associated with the Western genre in literature and the arts; he idealized the American frontier. Riders of the Purple Sage (1912) was his best-selling book.In addition to the commercial success of his printed works, his books have had second lives and continuing influence when adapted as films and television productions. His novels and short stories have been adapted into 112 films, two television episodes, and a television series, Dick Powell's Zane Grey Theater.[1]*Edgar Rice Burroughs: Edgar Rice Burroughs (September 1, 1875 March 19, 1950) was an American fiction writer best known for his celebrated and prolific output in the adventure and science-fiction genres. Among the most notable of his creations are the jungle hero Tarzan, the heroic Mars adventurer John Carter and the fictional landmass within Earth known as Pellucidar. Burroughs' California ranch is now the center of the Tarzana neighborhood in Los Angeles
Autoren/Hrsg.
Weitere Infos & Material
He was born in Peaster, Texas, to the son of Dr. Isaac Mordecai Howard and Hester housewife Jane Ervin Howard, both of whom were American-American families. His family lived in several cities in the state of Texas, and also in western Oklahoma, before settling definitively in Cross Plains, Texas, in 1919.
He began writing at age 9 (inspired by the stories of Harold Lamb and Talbot Mundy, published in Adventures magazine) but only at age 15 did he begin to write professionally, and it was not until 1924 when he attended the Howard Payne Academy in Brownwood that a story was published. tale Spear and Fang appeared in the July 1925 issue of Weird Tales. Many of his stories have been published in Weird Tales, such as "The Hyena" and "The Lost Race," and had its first cover in 1926.
His inspiration is due to the tales of horror he heard from his grandmother and his old aunt Mary Bohanoon, and as a child he always dreamed of being a barbarian fighting Rome, thus becoming a rebel against the civilized world.
He has written stories of many styles but his most famous creations are those of the sword and sorcery genre - a genre of fantasy characterized by his emphasis on violent fighting and supernatural interventions (gods, monsters, magicians, etc.). Howard created one of the most popular fantasy characters of all time; the barbarian Conan, who made his debut in the short story The Phoenix on the Sword in December 1932. To host his creation Howard invented the Hiborian Era, which is about Earth itself but in a pre-cataclysmic past of which current history has no memories . Other celebrated personages include king Kull, the puritanical adventurer Solomon Kane, and the picto Bran Mak Morn. He also created the warriors Dark Agnes de la Fere and Red Sonya de Rogatino, the latter the basis for the creation of the Red Sonja character of the publisher Marvel Comics. With Conan and his other heroes, Howard created the genre that would come to be known as "sword and sorcery" between the 1920s and 1930s. His work originated a series of imitators, making Howard one of the great influencers in the fantasy genre, only rivaling JRR Tolkien.
Another field in which Howard was successful was that of supernatural horror, in which he borrowed many ideas from his correspondent and friend H. P. Lovecraft, and always adding his own quick-action trademarks and flashy characters. His original creations are now considered part of the Cthulhu Myths (the chronology formed by Lovecraft stories) as "canons".
Worms of the Earth
CHAPTER 1
"STRIKE IN THE NAILS, soldiers, and let our guest see the reality of our good Roman justice!"
The speaker wrapped his purple cloak closer about his powerful frame and settled back into his official chair, much as he might have settled back in his seat at the Circus Maximus to enjoy the clash of gladiatorial swords. Realization of power colored his every move. Whetted pride was necessary to Roman satisfaction, and Titus Sulla was justly proud; for he was military governor of Eboracum and answerable only to the emperor of Rome. He was a strongly built man of medium height, with the hawk-like features of the pure- bred Roman. Now a mocking smile curved his full lips, increasing the arrogance of his haughty aspect. Distinctly military in appearance, he wore the golden- scaled corselet and chased breastplate of his rank, with the short stabbing sword at his belt, and he held on his knee the silvered helmet with its plumed crest. Behind him stood a clump of impassive soldiers with shield and spear—blond titans from the Rhineland.
Before him was taking place the scene which apparently gave him so much real gratification—a scene common enough wherever stretched the far- flung boundaries of Rome. A rude cross lay flat upon the barren earth and on it was bound a man—half-naked, wild of aspect with his corded limbs, glaring eyes and shock of tangled hair. His executioners were Roman soldiers, and with heavy hammers they prepared to pin the victim's hands and feet to the wood with iron spikes.
Only a small group of men watched this ghastly scene, in the dread place of execution beyond the city walls: the governor and his watchful guards; a few young Roman officers; the man to whom Sulla had referred as "guest" and who stood like a bronze image, unspeaking. Beside the gleaming splendor of the Roman, the quiet garb of this man seemed drab, almost somber.
He was dark, but he did not resemble the Latins around him. There was about him none of the warm, almost Oriental sensuality of the Mediterranean which colored their features. The blond barbarians behind Sulla's chair were less unlike the man in facial outline than were the Romans. Not his were the full curving red lips, nor the rich waving locks suggestive of the Greek. Nor was his dark complexion the rich olive of the south; rather it was the bleak darkness of the north. The whole aspect of the man vaguely suggested the shadowed mists, the gloom, the cold and the icy winds of the naked northern lands. Even his black eyes were savagely cold, like black fires burning through fathoms of ice.
His height was only medium but there was something about him which transcended mere physical bulk—a certain fierce innate vitality, comparable only to that of a wolf or a panther. In every line of his supple, compact body, as well as in his coarse straight hair and thin lips, this was evident—in the hawk-like set of the head on the corded neck, in the broad square shoulders, in the deep chest, the lean loins, the narrow feet. Built with the savage economy of a panther, he was an image of dynamic potentialities, pent in with iron self-control.
At his feet crouched one like him in complexion—but there the resemblance ended. This other was a stunted giant, with gnarly limbs, thick body, a low sloping brow and an expression of dull ferocity, now clearly mixed with fear. If the man on the cross resembled, in a tribal way, the man Titus Sulla called guest, he far more resembled the stunted crouching giant.
"Well, Partha Mac Othna," said the governor with studied effrontery, "when you return to your tribe, you will have a tale to tell of the justice of Rome, who rules the south."
"I will have a tale," answered the other in a voice which betrayed no emotion, just as his dark face, schooled to immobility, showed no evidence of the maelstrom in his soul.
"Justice to all under the rule of Rome," said Sulla. "Pax Romana! Reward for virtue, punishment for wrong!" He laughed inwardly at his own black hypocrisy, then continued: "You see, emissary of Pictland, how swiftly Rome punishes the transgressor."
"I see," answered the Pict in a voice which strongly-curbed anger made deep with menace, "that the subject of a foreign king is dealt with as though he were a Roman slave."
"He has been tried and condemned in an unbiased court," retorted Sulla.
"Aye! And the accuser was a Roman, the witnesses Roman, the judge Roman! He committed murder? In a moment of fury he struck down a Roman merchant who cheated, tricked and robbed him, and to injury added insult—aye, and a blow! Is his king but a dog, that Rome crucifies his subjects at will, condemned by Roman courts? Is his king too weak or foolish to do justice, were he informed and formal charges brought against the offender?"
"Well," said Sulla cynically, "you may inform Bran Mak Morn yourself. Rome, my friend, makes no account of her actions to barbarian kings. When savages come among us, let them act with discretion or suffer the consequences."
The Pict shut his iron jaws with a snap that told Sulla further badgering would elicit no reply. The Roman made a gesture to the executioners. One of them seized a spike and placing it against the thick wrist of the victim, smote heavily. The iron point sank deep through the flesh, crunching against the bones. The lips of the man on the cross writhed, though no moan escaped him. As a trapped wolf fights against his cage, the bound victim instinctively wrenched and struggled. The veins swelled in his temples, sweat beaded his low forehead, the muscles in arms and legs writhed and knotted. The hammers fell in inexorable strokes, driving the cruel points deeper and deeper, through wrists and ankles; blood flowed in a black river over the hands that held the spikes, staining the wood of the cross, and the splintering of bones was distinctly heard. Yet the sufferer made no outcry, though his blackened lips writhed back until the gums were visible, and his shaggy head jerked involuntarily from side to side.
The man called Partha Mac Othna stood like an iron image, eyes burning from an inscrutable face, his whole body hard as iron from the tension of his control. At his feet crouched his misshapen servant, hiding his face from the grim sight, his arms locked about his master's knees. Those arms gripped like steel and under his breath the fellow mumbled ceaselessly as if in invocation.
The last stroke fell; the cords were cut from arm and leg, so that the man would hang supported by the nails alone. He had ceased his struggling that only twisted the spikes in his agonizing wounds. His bright black eyes, unglazed, had not left the face of the man called Partha Mac Othna; in them lingered a desperate shadow of hope. Now the soldiers lifted the cross and set the end of it in the hole prepared, stamped the dirt about it to hold it erect. The Pict hung in midair, suspended by the nails in his flesh, but still no sound escaped his lips. His eyes still hung on the somber face of the emissary, but the shadow of hope was fading.
"He'll live for days!" said Sulla...
