Out of the Sight of Man: A Collection of Short Horror

Table of Contents

Introduction

Out of the sight of man.

The hands

Shar-ugn

The red crown

Prince Razoth

Chibia

The voice

Form the void

The dreamers

The light in the graveyard

Misery

The race

Crime of ambition

The grave party

The jester

The summit of evil

Of the stars

The after space

The Ritual

The laughter

Lobolis

The game of the gods

The marsh

The pact

The last stop

The hallow eve

Introduction

The classical sign for entertainment always has been of the two masks, tragedy and comedy. Most people would say that is because in some form, or another all stories are some sort of tragedy, or comedy. But I must disagree. The first form of entertainment was, and always will be fear.

Fear can be seen in almost every aspect of our lives. We buy a house or rent an apartment because we are afraid of being homeless. We get married because we fear the idea of being alone. We go to a doctor because death scares us. I find a hint of irony in the last example.

Regardless of the overdone slasher movies, and blood baths Hollywood throws out to the masses each year. True horror isn’t dyeing, it’s living. Masters of horror such as Poe, and Lovecraft knew this. What is there for the dead to be afraid of? No matter what walk of life you come from. Be you pagan, Christian, or anything else. Everyone basically agrees that the dead can’t be affected by the living, Human or otherwise. So who truly suffers? The woman devoured by a monster? Or the man who watches her die, and must live on with that image burned into his mind?

The great H.P. Lovecraft once said The greatest fear is the fear of the unknown. I must once again disagree. I believe knowing is far more disturbing then not knowing. The unknown can be debated, mocked and rejected. But knowing it, seeing it, and hearing it, is undeniable. No matter how hard I try none of these stories will scare you as much as seeing a real monster,

Fear is the purist form of entertainment. Because everyone deep down feels it, Different people find different things to be funny or sad. But deep down we all have the same primal fears and troubles. We all deep down like to think we are the dominate race on this planet. We rest easy knowing we rule it, but things like Prince Razoth, whom you will read about in this book, defy that notion. The hallmark of horror as always has been to rob you of anything that makes you comfortable then force you to go on without it. In this respect horror is wonderful because it can make you a stronger person. You must fight against all the forces of insanity and evil just to make it to the ending and for that you grow stronger and more sure of yourself.

In other cases horror can be eye opening. Sometimes the worse monster of all is a human; such is the case in ‘the dreamers.’ Shocking twists that make one rethink their reality is another common thing in horror. I say common for lack of a better word. In truth there is nothing common about horror. It is the most complex of subjects because while everyone has the same primal fears we all have different personal fears as well.

Horror, or more fittingly, the emotion of fear, Is inescapable it is the very foundation of civilization. The creatures which would become humans huddled together for fear of the world around them. Until they started to grow, then humanity took a turn. The oldest human cultures lived closely with nature and the earth, the druids, the Celts, the native North Americans, and the Shinto of Japan, with their kami. All had cultures formed around nature worshipping religions. I use the term "worship’ loosely as most didn’t so much worship as much as they worked to live peacefully with the earth and life.

Then came fear. Somewhere, at some point, humans learned that others could be controlled with fear. Suddenly the forces of nature, storms, fire, the night and day. Became tools used by ‘Gods’ thus the druidic faiths became the pagan cults. The world that we once lived with peacefully became controlled by vengeful, vain and often degenerate beings that demanded servitude. This servitude was shown through the temples. Offers of money, and food made sure that the clergy never had to really work again. Aside from telling some frightening stories to an uninformed mass, but this is not the end of the strain of fear.

Ages later the gods changed again, now replaced with one all powerful all knowing, all seeing father. Whom looked like a human, where as the pagan gods looked humanoid but clearly were not. The one new God looked like a man fully. The goal of this was to make a god that was more pleasing to human ego. Having a god that is not animal like. Helps people feel less apart of nature, and more like something that is all together different, and so through fear, and a little greed, humans have made massive empires that stand even today all based around these religions and cults.

I hope you enjoy these stories and keep in mind that true fear is not in blood, nudity, or cursing. It’s in that moment of stillness, and lack of sound. Knowing that something is there, but hidden. Possibly already inside you. Waiting… watching… hungering

Out of the sight of man.

Here I lay tired, yet I dare not sleep. I dare not close my eyes. I know I shut the closet door. I recall the hearing it click. So then why is it ever so slightly open? Long have I sat here gazing at the black space beyond the door. Dreading, fearing, and wondering. What thing dwells just out of the sight of man?

Every night for weeks now that door as silently opened. Why does it watch me? Is it a beast with a hungry maw? A horror of many faces? Does it dance with the fiends in the night winds? Is it some unformed thing? A beast leftover from a dead eon? I feel like prey. Powerless to control what could or will happen when it finally comes forth.

No… why then would it not attack sooner? No human I have ever known as been so reliable. Every night without fail. I see now this thing is not a threat, but maybe the best friend I have! Never will it speak poorly of me. I need not fear ever being alone. Always I will have this guard of the night. Good night you thing, watch over me as I rest this tired mind. Good night that which dwells just out of the sight of man

The hands

Albert Hanson stumbled into my office Thursday morning. I greeted him as I do all my clients. What a poor thing he was. He shook and stuttered. His skin ghostly pale even his short brown hair looked faded. After offering him a cup of water. I asked why he had come to see me. Unaware that I was in no way ready for what I was going to learn.

"I don’t know where to start. I keep having this nightmare. I held a newborn baby in my arms as it dies. I can’t sleep doctor, and my hands. I can’t