Galen C. Colin

Weird Tales (1924)

Summary

Galen C. Colin Weird Tales (1924)

A light mist was falling—just enough to make each branch and twig along the cemetery drive moisture-laden and dripping. You couldn't see ten feet ahead of your face. I went alone. Under my arm was a grain bag in which to carry back the bones. A spade was my only tool, and I filched it from the caretaker's shed. An electric flash gave all the illumination I needed.
"I was not afraid of the dead—then. A medical student seldom is. Yet, as a heritage from our ancestors, a graveyard always holds something of shuddering dread—and this was a gloomy night.
Source: Wikisource

Galen C. Colin Weird Tales (1924)

He could almost see the quiver of a sinuous body about to strike. It seemed he could feel the pair of jet black, glistening eyes glaring into his own. He could imagine deadly fangs fastened into his cheek. If he only dared draw his gun and blow off the reptile's head. That would bring more enemies more deadly about him. If only the men above would leave before some inadvertent movement drew that attack.
Then stark terror took him. Now the reptile breathed twin jets of fire. Now it grinned at him in hideous fashion. Again it grew—and grew—until it almost crowded him from the cellar.
Source: Wikisource

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