An English Spiritualist performs a number of psychometric experiments in “Shell Mischief” with young ladies in darkened rooms. Of these experiments he wrote: “I draw the special attention of the medical profession to the serious physical injury many delicate persons receive, especially females; from the very common, very natural, and English-like custom of placing specimens of minerals, crystals, and shells upon the sitting-room tables and elsewhere.”
The Victorians feared the Resurrection Man, but they feared premature burial more. Today we lift the lid on stories of burial alive and find the subject seething with maggots of horror. What is it like to hear those clods falling on your coffin lid while you are helpless, trapped….
Most vintage snake stories tend to be all of a muchness: the horrid things slither, they are very large, they are aggressive, they are very poisonous, and they escape from circuses and terrorize neighborhoods while hunting parties are gotten up. But a few, whether Snaix fiction or Snaix fact, stick with us like an antlered deer sticks in the craw of an overambitious python.
The draught of blood seemed to intoxicate him. He swelled with it. It flashed red and fiery out of his eyes. It crimsoned his ghastly face. It thickened his thin fingers and made his arm round and easy. The monster grew less hideous and more devilish with every drop.