Nevertheless, there was something lacking.
I had a sense of comfort, but not of security. I detected myself staring more
frequently at the open doorway and blank window than I could find warrant for
doing. Outside these apertures all was black, and I was unable to repress a
certain feeling of apprehension as my fancy pictured the outer world and filled
it with unfriendly entities, natural and supernatural - chief among which, in
their respective classes, were the grizzly bear, which I knew was occasionally
still seen in that region, and the ghost, which I had reason to think was not.
Unfortunately, our feelings do not always respect the law of probabilities, and
to me that evening, the possible and the impossible were equally disquieting.
A Ghost Story disguised as a Western story.
We find this one buried in Bierce’s collection Can
Such Things Be?
I’ve enjoyed Bierce and I have also found some of his
work to be slight.
This one falls into the latter category.
Caveat: One of my faults, I do not enjoy the subtle oblique
ghost stories of M.R. James.
If you do, your tolerance for this tale may be higher.
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