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Post by dem bones on Jan 18, 2021 18:34:40 GMT
As in foul-smelling feasters on dead flesh. Not to be confused with body-snatchers or necrophiliacs (though one or two may have slipped onto the list, it's been some time since I read the RCH stories, for example).  John Bolton: ( The Bellman, 1 June 1907: August Derleth [ed.], The Sleeping and the Dead, 1947). Sir Hugh Clifford - The Ghoul: ( The Further Side of Silence, 1916: Bill Pronzini [ed], Tales of the Dead, 1986) H. P. Lovecraft - Pickman's Model: ( Weird Tales, Oct 1927: Christine Campbell Thomson [ed.] By Daylight Only, 1929). Seabury Quinn - The Children of Ubasti: ( Weird Tales, Dec. 1929: Michel Parry [ed.], 2nd Mayflower Book of Black Magic Stories, 1974). Henry S. Whitehead - The Chadbourne Episode: ( Weird Tales, Feb. 1933; Christine Campbell Thomson [ed.] Keep on the Light, 1933). Arthur Porges - Mop Up: ( MFSF, July 1953: Martin H. Greenberg & Charles G. Waugh [eds.], Back From The Dead, 1991). E.C Tubb - Fresh Guy: ( Science Fantasy #29, June 1958: Valeria Riva & Ornella Volta [eds,] The Vampire, 1963) W Baker-Evans - The Children: (Herbert van Thal [ed.] 8th Pan Book of Horror Stories, 1967). Sydney J. Bounds - Young Blood: (Christine Bernard (ed.) - The 4th Fontana Book Of Great Horror Stories, 1969). Morag Greer - Under The Flagstones: (Herbert van Thal [ed.], 15th Pan Book of Horror, 1974). R. Chetwynd-Hayes - The Humgoo: ( The Monster Club, 1976). R. Chetwynd-Hayes - Manderville: ( Tales of Fear & Fantasy, 1977). Barry Malzberg - Indigestion: ( Fantastic, Sept. 1977: Bill Pronzini [ed], Tales of the Dead, 1986). Chelsea Quinn Yarbo - Disturb Not My Slumbering Fair: ( Cautionary Tales, 1978: Bill Pronzini [ed], Tales of the Dead, 1986) R. Chetwynd-Hayes - The Gibbering Ghoul Of Gomershal: ( The Fantastic World Of Kamtellar, 1980) R. Chetwynd-Hayes - It Came to Dinner: (Herbert van Thal [ed.] 14th Pan Book of Horror Stories , 1973). Shaun Jeffrey - The Flibbertigibbet: { Voyeurs of Death. 2007) David Ludford - Ain't No Grave Can Hold My Body Down: ( A Place of Skulls, 2016). As ever, additions/ corrections welcome. I'm positive there are at least as many again. In fact, i just thought of a couple while writing this sentence. |
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Post by Dr Strange on Jan 18, 2021 20:13:27 GMT
Clark Ashton Smith - The Nameless Offspring ( Strange Tales, June 1932). Joseph Payne Brennan - The Horror At Chilton Castle ( Screams At Midnight, 1963). {Spoiler}These two stories have a lot of similarities - in each the narrator is a North American travelling in England, who visits an ancient castle/manor house, which turns out to have a resident ghoul that eats the corpses of the family who reside there.
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Post by cauldronbrewer on Jan 18, 2021 20:29:29 GMT
I could swear I've seen that ghoul somewhere before... Chelsea Quinn Yarbo - Disturb Not My Slumbering Fair: ( Cautionary Tales, 1978: Bill Pronzini [ed], Tales of the Dead, 1986) The Yarbro story is a blast. Tales of the Dead also includes the following, which I recall as being more sedate: Charles L. Grant - Quietly NowThe ghouls from "Pickman's Model" reappear (as the good guys!) in Lovecraft's not-for-all-tastes epic, The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath. |
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Post by dem bones on Jan 18, 2021 20:35:28 GMT
Clark Ashton Smith - The Nameless Offspring ( Strange Tales, June 1932). Joseph Payne Brennan - The Horror At Chilton Castle ( Screams At Midnight, 1963). {Spoiler}These two stories have a lot of similarities - in each the narrator is a North American travelling in England, who visits an ancient castle/manor house, which turns out to have a resident ghoul that eats the corpses of the family who reside there. Thanks Dr. S. It's a long time since I read Brennan's, but seem to remember it had something of the Monster of Glamis legend about it?  Les Edwards : ( Unknown Worlds, June 1942: The Hounds of Tindalos, 1963). Robin Tate - Midnight Ghoul: ( Supernatural Stories #81, Sept. 1963). Evangeline Wilbour Blashfield - the Ghoul: ( Atlantic Monthly, Aug. 1912: J. Walker McSpadden [ed]. Famous Psychic Stories, 1920). An excellent creepy tale of a woman suspected of exhuming the dead from a mass grave on a battlefield. Can't decide whether it's more appropriate to the necrophiliac thread. {Spoiler}She doesn't have sex with a corpse but she most certainly loves one. |
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Post by Dr Strange on Jan 18, 2021 21:00:36 GMT
Thanks Dr. S. It's a long time since I read Brennan's, but seem to remember it had something of the Monster of Glamis legend about it? Yes, very much so. Here's another one for the list - Robert Bloch - The Grinning Ghoul ( Weird Tales, June 1936). A psychiatrist accompanies his patient on a night visit to a cemetery, aiming to convince him that his belief in ghouls is delusional. Not one of Bloch's best. |
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Post by andydecker on Jan 18, 2021 22:31:38 GMT
Errol Lecale - Castledoom ( NEL, 1974) |
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Post by dem bones on Jan 19, 2021 10:02:15 GMT
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Post by bluetomb on Jan 19, 2021 20:50:34 GMT
Clark Ashton Smith also had one called simply The Ghoul. Does the job up to a point, I think he was almost incapable of not being quality but not the best of his Middle East fable type outings.
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Post by Dr Strange on Jan 20, 2021 4:21:10 GMT
Anonymous article printed in the St. Louis Globe-Democrat, Feb 16th 1890 - apparently presented as an actual news story.
WHAT IS A GHOUL? CAPTURE AND CONFINEMENT OF A FLESH-EATING MONSTER IN IRELAND.
Is there such a thing as a ghoul? If so, is it a biped or a quadruped, a man or a beast? Edgar A. Poe, in one of his poems—The Bells—assures us that "they are neither man nor woman, neither beast nor human —they are ghouls." The poet here furnishes the outline and leaves the imagination to complete the picture. The popular belief is that the ghoul lives upon human flesh, and dwells within easy access to a country graveyard, where it can sally forth at night and prey upon the recently buried corpse, carefully covering up all traces of its presence. The ghoul has only in a very few cases been identified with the New World, and is scarcely ever spoken of except as a myth. In Asia, and occasionally in Europe, something is heard of their ravages in burial places remote from human surroundings. In isolated portions of Ireland at certain intervals the cry of "Ghoul" goes abroad, and a thrill of horror accompanies the utterance. An Irishman gives the following account of a ghoul he actually saw:
'In 1868, at Laracor church and graveyard, in the County Meath, a ghoul was captured while in the act of depredating the grave of a recently buried infant. I lived at the time of the occurrence about eight miles from the scene. Laracor graveyard was situated on a slope that reached downward to the brink of the river Boyne. It was a solitary spot, two miles from the village, and unfrequented save on the Sabbath, or at all times when the keen of death—or funeral cry of the Irish peasants —was within the gloomy inclosure. In June, 1868, reports reached the county town that graves were being pillaged in that section of the country, and the magistrates determined to arrest the "body-snatchers" and make them pay dearly for their services in behalf of the physicians, who at that time paid high prices for subjects for anatomical analysis.
The village police were notified to proceed to Laracor graveyard, and one fine night in June, obedient to call, six members of the force, accompanied by as many more young men from the neighborhood, arrived at the spot indicated and concealed themselves behind a large tombstone or mausoleum. They waited breathlessly for hours, and about one o'clock a figure was observed to glide along the west wall of the inclosure, and paused a moment, as if to listen, and then fell upon all fours and crept to a newly made grave, where it began tearing up the earth in dog fashion and with marvellous rapidity. The watchers remained quiet for ten minutes before making an onset, and then rushed forward and surrounded the thief. But, to their horror, the creature leaped to its feet, uttering a hoarse, inhuman scream that almost terrified them to death. The moon shone out vividly, and by its light they beheld a being in form of a man, that to look upon was to loathe beyond endurance. A body covered with thick, crispy hair from head to foot (face and palms included), eyes small and sunken with a wild glare, mouth large and brutal with four tusks at least five inches long, curved inward and hiding a small, receding chin. The nails, three and a half inches in length, were strong and thick and hollow as a gouge. This creature was fully five feet ten inches in height, but so lean and fleshless that its weight did not exceed one hundred and twenty pounds. The crown of the head pointed upward, and the circumference around the brow was not over twelve and a half inches. The most remarkable feature of the visage (save the tusks) was a pair of gigantic ears of the human shape and standing out from the head. As we gazed upon the hideous spectre in our midst a strange, superstitious dread took possession of the boldest of the party. Yet it moved not a muscle; only the quick, wild and glaring eyes were in action, to discover a chance of escape from its persecutors. "God in His mercy and the Virgin save us!" uttered Constable Knowles, crossing himself, "it’s a ghost." It was half an hour before some of the party could be induced to assist in securing and binding the creature, and yet it made no other opposition than to moan piteously at intervals.
News of the capture spread far and wide. Mass was said at the village church before daylight, for the dreadful monstrosity was carried into the village, and the people were stricken almost dumb with fear. This was on a Saturday night. On the following Monday the petty sessions convened at Kells, where the county magistrates sat upon the bench, awaiting besides their ordinary routine a novel and interesting subject for investigation. The excitement rose to such a pitch that the police lost all control of the mob, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that the object of horror could be led from its cell to the jaunting-car which was standing in front of the building. When at last it was ushered forth a shudder of horror passed through the assembly, and several hundred voices murmured "Christ save us, 'tis a ghoul." As the vehicle passed through the courthouse I, with others, ascended the stone steps to get a better view. It was then that, for the first time, the ghoul, driven to distraction by the mass of surging humanity, made a desperate struggle for liberty. Unshackled, the creature sat between two police, when suddenly it grasped both men by the throats and hurled them from the car. Before further damage could be done, a policeman on the opposite side struck the ghoul with a heavy baton and secured it hand and foot.
When brought before the court the strange creature exhibited a vacant demeanor, and uttered not a sound nor moved a muscle. Several of the magistrates undertook to ply it with questions, but they might as well have addressed a statue. At length a jury was impaneled, and the result was a verdict of insanity and a committal to the lunatic asylum at the capital. Orders were then and there issued to scour the vicinity of the graveyard for further testimony. The result was the discovery of a shallow cave beneath a ledge of rock which projected from the river bank and was accessible only by entrance from the water, which was fully four feet deep at the spot. The discoverers of the cave ran a boat to the opening, entered, made search and discovered a quantity of human bones, chiefly children, piled in a corner of the narrow apartment, some of which contained pieces of decomposed flesh. The stench was terrific, and the witnesses declared that they became deadly sick from the few minutes' exploration of the horrible den. Judging from the quantity of bones in the cave, it is hardly likely that its inmate had haunted the spot for over ten or twelve months.
A few days after the arrival of the curiosity in the city of Dublin the subject was brought before the medical and scientific faculties of the Irish capital, and full testimony taken in the case. During the examination, the ghoul betrayed no more interest than on the previous event, but remained stolid and motionless. The jailers testified that during its captivity it had refused every species of food, but would drink water ravenously at times. The abstinence could not long continue without disastrous results, and the death of the ghoul within thirty days from its capture is attributed to this cause. And here there arose another question, as to the disposition of the body. When about to lay it in the graveyard attached to the asylum a dispute arose which never has been quite settled. The clergy, at least a leader of one of the denominational churches, objected to the interment of an animal in a Christian burial place, while others claimed that the ghoul was a human, and the body, therefore, entitled to the same consideration as any other sinner. Finally, however, the corpse was carried to the suburbs of the city and laid beneath a tree in a piece of waste land.
I cannot do better than refer to the opinion of Dr. Burke, an elderly and eminent physician, who it appears had thirty years previously examined the Kilfinnan ghoul: "I believe", said the doctor, "that the benefit of the doubt should have been in favor of the ghoul, and that he should have been awarded human burial. We have no philosophical proof that the creature belongs to a distinctive genus. This specimen is in every respect similar to the Kilfinnan ghoul; both being alike in respect to the tusks, eyes, nails, hair-clad bodies, idiotic heads and enormous ears. The post-mortem analysis in both instances revealed not one single feature foreign to the human race". The doctor, however, would risk no definite assertion as to the origin of the ghoul. History has touched but lightly upon the subject, and in works of ancient eastern authors they are alluded to in a shadowy manner, and coupled with everything that is horrible and repulsive. The creatures had been heard of in Ireland not infrequently, but only three had been captured during a space of thirty years. One of them was caught while asleep, resting its back against a tombstone, in the Kilfinnan graveyard, the half-devoured body of an infant in its possession. Dr. Burke's opinion was that there were only a few in that country, but that these were gifted with great longevity, and travelled during the darkness of the night from place to place. This would account for the many grave robberies that never were traced despite the liberal rewards which were offered. "I believe", said Dr. Burke on one occasion, "that the ghoul, notwithstanding popular superstition, is a human being endowed with an immortal soul, sprung from man and woman; that owing to estrangement from mankind at an early period, it degenerated and at length developed the strange and horrible traits for which it is peculiar."'
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Post by Swampirella on Jan 23, 2021 1:34:36 GMT
Philip Lorimer - Under The Carpet (The 28th Pan Book of Horror Stories, 1987)
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Post by dem bones on Jan 23, 2021 13:43:24 GMT
Bron Fane - Night of the Ghoul: ( Supernatural Stories #19, Nov. 1958). "What fearsome horror lurked among the tombs and preyed upon the dead?” “I feel that no member of my parish, none of my flock, will be really safe until the fiend has been destroyed. I also realise that it would be rather difficult to convince the authorities of its existence. Besides, there’s the publicity to consider. I want worshippers in our church — not a rabble of ghoul-hunting sightseers.” He paused and gave a wry little smile. “Just imagine what the Sunday newspapers would make of it!” Val Stearman, action journalist, and wife La Noire, glam medium, assist Canon Edwards campaign to drive a ghoul from the graveyard of Wellbridge Church. A dangerous, albeit straightforward mission turns deadly with the intervention of the Stearmans' sworn enemies, the Hideous Trio. All misshapen footprints lead to the de Crecy vault ... Read it on Pel TorroR. Lionel Fanthorpe - The Ghoul and the Goddess: ( Supernatural Stories #93, Sept.1964). Don't have a copy but the cover painting suggests a story suited to this thread.
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Post by dem bones on Jan 24, 2021 17:17:19 GMT
Robert Bloch - The Laughter of a Ghoul: (Charles D. Hornig [ed], Fantasy Fan, Dec. 1934). Ever wonder how a ghoul procreates? Very early the-man-who-wrote- Psycho. Too much under the spell of Lovecraft for his own good. Robert Bloch - The Creeper in the Crypt: ( Weird Tales, July 1937). A tale of stark horror in a gangster's hide-out in the dread cellar of an evil house in legend-haunted Arkham. "You've been reading too many bum magazines lately, Polack." Narrator has been kidnapped by Joe Regetti's hoods and secured in the cellar of the house where they found Tony Fellipo's gnawed leg lying on the floor. They've yet to find the rest of him. What's that scraping on the iron door?
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Post by dem bones on Jan 26, 2021 6:59:38 GMT
 Harold S. De Lay - Far Below: ( Weird Tales, June-July 1939). A weird tale of the New York subway, and horrible things with dead-white eyes that burrow up beneath the unsuspecting city. R. Chetwynd-Hayes - Don't Go Up The stairs: ( The Unbidden, 1971: World of Horror # 2, 1974). |
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Post by dem bones on Feb 5, 2021 19:18:13 GMT
 Found this in old folder on hard drive, no idea where it came from. Can someone identify the artist? : ( MFSF, Dec 1981). Wannabe Medicine Man Gordon Evans fortuitously revives two ghouls from suspended animation intent on unleashing them on supposedly rich widow, Aunt Helena. Smithers, who foolishly trusted Evans with the incantation thinking he could never master it, must now intervene and turn the situation to his own advantage. Turns out ghouls are small fry in the great scheme of evil entities. Gory opening and kept this reader's attention throughout. Author evidently not overly fond of hippies. Two vignettes; Michael W Powell - Girl Friend: ( London Mystery Selection #102, Nov. 1974). Or, to be more specific, ghoul friend. ".... Likewise, I am aware of her nocturnal habits, when she lurks in the local cemetery, tearing up the freshly interred, and hereupon feasting on the decaying putrid flesh." Kurt Kuersteiner - The Diggers: ( 113 Tales of Terror, 2017). Edwin Smey prowls the cemetery after dark, protecting our dear departed from those who feast upon the flesh of the dead. That's his excuse, anyhow. He dies in the madhouse. Then ....  Terry Beatty |
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Post by cauldronbrewer on Feb 5, 2021 19:49:28 GMT
Found this in old folder on hard drive, no idea where it came from. Can someone identify the artist? No, but it’s a great illustration. |
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