Dig Me No Grave
By ROBERT E. HOWARD
A shuddery tale of dark horror and evil
things, and the uncanny funeral rites
over the corpse of old John Grimlan.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Weird Tales February 1937.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The thunder of my old-fashioned door-knocker, reverberating eerily through the house, roused me from a restless and nightmare-haunted sleep. I looked out the window. In the last light of the sinking moon, the white face of my friend John Conrad looked up at me.
"May I come up, Kirowan?" His voice was shaky and strained.
"Certainly!" I sprang out of bed and pulled on a bath-robe as I heard him enter the front door and ascend the stairs.
A moment later he stood before me, and in the light which I had turned on I saw his hands tremble and noticed the unnatural pallor of his face.
"Old John Grimlan died an hour ago," he said abruptly.