
Classic·Gothic fiction
The Fall of the House of Usher
Edgar Allan Poe
An urgent summons draws a traveler into a crumbling ancestral mansion where madness, terror, and dark family secrets fester.
Stories of Love, Madness and Death
Complete work

“Where passionate devotion brushes against the abyss and human fragility collides with the relentless brutality of the wilderness.”
Published in 1917, this masterwork by the great Río de la Plata writer gathers chilling tales where fatality lies in wait within the deepest corners of the Misiones jungle. With unyielding tension, Horacio Quiroga explores the extreme boundaries of the human psyche, feverish delirium, and love driven to its most harrowing extremes. Each page of this immortal volume plunges the reader into a universe where everyday reality shatters abruptly before the shadow of death.
“Nébel had just entered the corso, already at dusk, and while untangling a pack of streamers, he looked at the carriage ahead.”
“One afternoon, after lunch, as he was passing by Arrizabalaga’s house, he had felt a mad desire to see her.”
““Don’t you know, Lydia?” her daughter exclaimed joyfully upon returning.”
““Do not trust such convulsions,” Zapiola said to me with a calm and serious air.”
“Kassim was a sickly man, a jeweler by trade, though he had no established shop.”
“It was, above all, a beauty for men, without being in the least provocative; and this is precisely what women will never understand.”
“A coffin has been left open behind the iron grille, and beside it, on the sand, lies the skeleton of the man who was locked inside it.”
“The bench stood parallel to it, five meters away, and there they remained motionless, their eyes fixed on the bricks.”
“The ships finally stop, here or there, motionless forever in that desert of seaweed.”
“Blonde, angelic, and timid, the harsh character of her husband froze her dreamed-up bride’s childishness.”
“Today marks thirty-nine days, hour for hour, since the rabid dog entered our room at night.”
“The bite was distinct, two violet punctures, which I pressed with all my strength, and washed with permanganate.”
“He jumped forward, and as he turned with an oath, saw a yararacusú coiled upon itself and awaiting another strike.”
“He stopped at the edge of the grass, stretched toward the scrubland, narrowing his eyes, his nose vibrating, and sat down quietly.”
“To be sure, from within, still very close by, the mischievous pinto would answer his desperate neighs with a full-mouthed little whinny.”
““Well; do your best so it doesn’t get in, because if it crosses it’s going to hurt itself.””
“Cayetano Maidana and Esteban Podeley, logging camp laborers, were returning to Posadas on the Silex, along with fifteen companions.”
““Until tomorrow,” Podeley walked away, quickening his pace, because in his heels he had just felt a slight tingling.”
“He circled it again, snorted into a crevice, and, to the honor of the breed, scratched the scorching block for an instant.”
“Fragoso, worried by the ruin of his clearing and disputes with the owner of his land, had no humor for hunting, not even out of hunger.”
““Yes, a lot of racket,” agreed Mr. Hall, who found his visitor’s observations not devoid of depth.”
“Not that his temperament was such, for rather he was a peaceful, chubby boy with a uniformly rosy face, by reason of great well-being.”
“That very afternoon we left the house, settling into the only one we could find with such haste, an old country house in the outskirts.”
“The little stepfather stopped, utterly livid; he rolled his dilated eyes everywhere, and approached the well.”
““Look here, Durán: you know very well I haven’t come to see you at this hour to talk about trivialities; isn’t that so?””
““But the delirium,” I insisted, “does it always exist?””
“But of interest, the man with whom one has dreamed twenty nights in a row, not that.”

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Public-domain work (1917). Text: Project Gutenberg #13507. The English version is an AI-assisted translation and may contain errors. Digital edition by Inkora Stories. Learn more