Beyond Midnight

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On the third day, the mystery of Mrs Smiff began, and the events did not reach their frightening conclusion until twenty days had passed. And on that twentieth day it was long Down-and-out Mr Robinson, with less than a shilling in his pocket, hires on as a clerk at the Sailor's Rest, a decrepit inn run by the expansive Mrs Ambrose Manifold. But there's something odd about Mrs Manifold. Rumour has it she once ran a highly successful inn in Singapore before she skipped out. But, perhaps I would. A man with less than a shilling in his pocket and little chance to [enter] that can't hesitate too much.

Still, there was something about Mrs Manifold, something you could 'feel' but hardly put into words. I never saw anyone so fat. Though she was a short woman, she weighed over pounds. It was easy to understand why she preferred to keep to her own room on the fourth floor. Oh, I can see her now And to this day I cannot abide the smell of Madeira wine.

An oft-hated, up-and-coming executive in the food market business, Burton Grunzer, aged 35, is approached by the secretary of a voluntary-service group called Society for United Action. The members of this organization are engaged in a spot of coordinated 'anthropological psychiatry' Has he ever, for example, personally wished someone dead? A man's worth can be judged by the calibre of his enemies. Burton Grunzer had encountered the phrase in a pocket-sized biography purchased at a newstand just before the train left the station.

Darkness silvered the glass and gave him nothing to look at but his own image. How many people were enemies of that face, of the eyes narrowed by a myopic squint denied by vanity the correction of spectacles, of the nose, he secretly called patrician, of the mouth, it was hard, unrelenting Oh, I've got a lot of enemies. I'm rich in enemies. Some of them are twenty-four-carat. Newlyweds Laura and Harry—writer and painter—move to a secluded cottage in the country.

Their housekeeper, well-versed in local folklore, tells them the grey marble knights stretched out beside the altar in a nearby Norman church had once been fierce, wicked men—marauders by land and sea—who now come to life each All Saints' Eve and roam the land. Nesbit, available at Project Gutenberg, Australia.

Nowadays, a rational explanation is required before belief is possible. Let me at once, then, offer a rational explanation. It is held that Harry and Laura Inness were under a delusion on that 31st of October, and that this supposition places the whole matter on a satisfactory and believable basis. But there were three who took part in the events of the 31st. The other man still lives and can speak to the truth of the least credible part of Harry's story.

October the 31st; it began like any other last day of the month, and progressed into terror, as it moved An Indian Fakir, a very holy man, put a spell on a desiccated monkey's paw many years ago to show that Fate rules our lives and those who interfere with it do so to their sorrow.

The spell allows three separate men to each have three wishes from it. The monkey's paw has now come into the possession of Mr White and his family. A classic tale which has been produced many times. See the Famous Authors on Radio page for more details. Jacobs, available at Project Gutenberg. But in the small parlour of Lakesnam Villa the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly.

Father and son were playing chess. The former, who played a revolutionary game was putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary perils that it even provoked comment from the white-haired old lady knitting placidly by the fire. They were the principle actors in this drama of 'The Monkey's Paw'. As were the already mentioned lady and a certain Sergeant-Major Morris who was due to visit Lakesnam Villa on this darkest of nights, when the gods showed their displeasure with the world by drenching it with the cold rain of winter.

And with the Sergeant-Major's visit the three inhabitants of the villa moved forward into the terrors that lie It was ruled self-defence. Nobody liked it, but everybody agreed it was self-defence. Everybody except Stoney's eldest son, Verge. Verge thinks it was cold-blooded murder and he aims to get revenge As Verge Likens, Stoney's eldest boy said, 'Daddy didn't have no gun on him.

So I just can't see no fair reason for Mr McGraw shooting him'. An aspiring journalist, Raymond Hewson, seeks to make a name for himself by successfully spending the night amongst the wax murderer's at Mariner's Waxworks and publishing the account. A teleplay was also produced for Alfred Hitchcock Presents The uniformed attendants, glad that another day's work was over, were locking up.

On the second floor of the old grey building, the manager, a stout blonde man of smart appearance, was talking to one Raymond Hewson who looked anything but smart. His clothes, although good once, were showing distinct signs of their owner's losing battle with the world. Alice is convinced that her newborn baby is trying to kill her: Day after day this goes on. Sometimes Alice can hear him moving about the house, but when she looks in on him, he is always in his crib staring It's enough to drive anyone mad.

Sharp instruments hovered, and there were voices and people in sterile, white masks. Why didn't you come, David? Why didn't you come? Try, try, try, I won't die. After seven long years, actress Laura Laine has finally made it—she is a now a star to be followed. The press are downstairs, the music is thumping, and the party is in full swing, yet year old Laura lingers in her dressing room, pausing to gather the strength needed to face the reporters Enter, stage left, Laura Laine's thought-to-be-dead husband, who just happens to know her secret.

She was sitting at her dressing table, still only half dressed. She had been dreaming. In her dream, she had been in front of the camera and the eye of the camera had slowly turned into George's eye and winked at her. A slow, maliciously-knowing wink, that had been George's trademark in Burlesque George had been dead for 5 years and she only dreamed about him when she was very tired, as she was now. So tired, she dozed off in the middle of changing for the party that was going on downstairs. Laura [Laine], star of "Star-Crossed Love", premiered that night, the night of the party.

She didn't know how could she? The episode I have with this title is the actually "Vulture People". A pair of sisters accompany their father, the Reverend Maydew, to a rural parsonage, where they become enamoured of an old brick house located in a narrow glen named Brickett Bottom. The house has been occupied by Colonel Paxton and his wife for many years. When Alice the younger daughter hurts her ankle, Maggie the elder visits the Paxtons and strikes up a friendship with the very charming Mrs Paxton.

The only problem is that none of the locals have ever seen the house or heard of the Paxtons. He was also a student and a man of no strong physique. So that when an opportunity was presented to him to take a holiday by exchanging his parsonage in a sprawling, dark industrial town, with the country living of another clergyman in the sunlit south, he was very glad to avail himself of it. Arthur Maydew had two daughters: Both these girls rejoiced at the prospect of a period of quiet and rest in the pleasant country neighbourhood of Overbury.

But their dreams were shattered. From the gentle green acres, the Maydew sisters passed into the dark regions of terror that lie Lost on the lonely moors of Northern England, a hunter seeks shelter in the manor of an eccentric recluse. The recluse, a long-forgotten scientist, grudgingly welcomes the hunter for supper and then embarks on an evening of philosophical ramblings. Eager to reach his wife waiting at home though, the hunter interrupts the evening and seeks the Crossroads where he might catch a lift on the mail coach.

Edwards, available at Project Gutenberg, Australia. During the last few days of the season he made several trips across the northern moors, after the elusive and soon-to-be-prohibited birds. December, the wind was due east; the moors were bleak and wild. On his last expedition, the very day before the ending of the season, James Murray became hopelessly lost. The first feathery flakes of the coming snow storm fluttered down upon the heather and a leaden evening was closing in all around.

The purple moorland melted into a range of low hills. There was not the faintest smoke-wreath. Not the smallest cultivated patch, or fence, or sheep-track. The world had changed. Murray shouldered his gun and pushed wearily forward on and beyond The episode I have with this title is the actually "The Phantom Coach". It is quite likely that this is actually the same story as "The Honeymooners". Jane Brooks is startled when her dustbin lid flies off and lands a couple of metres away.

But surprise gradually gives way to alarm, fright and, eventually, terror when neither Jane nor her husband, James, can find evidence of natural causes—no people hanging about Whatever it is, is very, very fast. Eventually a hunter friend hits on the idea of rigging up cameras and trip wires to take some photographs. James Brooks was his name. He had been in South Africa for three years.

Leaving England on an impulse, England and the girl-friend, he had come to seek his fortune in a city called Johannesburg that was said to be made of gold. Within a month he had decided he might as well have stayed in Sheffield, for there was nothing 'African' about Johannesburg. Then the city got under his skin and he saved and bought a small car and began to go on weekend safaris to the Hartebeestpoort Dam, and once he even drove to Durban. He wrote four times a week to a girl called Jane, and when she finally left Southampton University with an upper Second or a lower First or something in History, she flew from a grey United Kingdom into the hard, bright sunlight of Jan Smuts Airport.

By this time, he had rented a cottage at a place called Kyalami, where they race motorcars. Livermore National Laboratory, California. An accident involving a highly-classified project results in serious radiation poisoning of a civilian truck driver. Secret notes are read and passed about It's all very hush-hush, and I really can't say any more about it.

I'm in the administration building. There are two security officers here with a patient. Oh, just a minute, sir. We have a highly classified emergency on our hands and we need you, Commander, immediately! Socialite Rupert Orange lived with his aunt in New York till he was twenty-four years old, and when she died, leaving her entire estate to him, a furious contest arose over her will. The Court declared that the old lady had died lunatic; that she had been unduly influenced; and, that consequently her testament was void.

So began the fall of Rupert Orange from opulence to poverty Whatever became of Rupert Orange? At every society party in London, in New York, anywhere, such a question was once asked frequently, now not so often. Soon it will never be asked again, because people forget people. Public figures fade into insignificance, great stars of the stage and screen are forgotten all to easily, and heroes we might owe our lives to could die in rags for all we care, within a few short years of their exploits.

Rupert Orange was no hero, of course, he starred on no stage, although he was at one time a familiar figure at London first nights, and would never have dreamt of attending if a box had not been available. A box meant a beautiful woman, and whether the play was good or bad, the evening required food and wine at its end. Rupert Orange blazed like a comet for a few short, brilliant years, but when his name slipped from memory in the early 30s, there were precious few to mourn a man who had gone forever A sheriff, fed up with hanging innocent people and disgusted with the unfair trial a young artist is receiving, swears he will never hang another man.

Instead, he slips the accused six hacksaw blades and provides a foolproof plan of escape. Sometimes, however, things don't go according to plan. Title not provided by Springbok Radio and as yet unverified. I only ask you to bear in mind that this creature, Burke, is on trial, charged with the most brutal murder ever committed in this county, the most brutal it has ever been my duty to present to a jury.

Now, I'm not going to keep you much longer, but whenever possible, I prefer to present my cases His voice rose and fell like an old-fashioned Shakespearean actor's. The little courtroom, sweltering and airless in the July heat had taken on the unreal blur of something experienced in a nightmare, or seen through the walls of an aquarium. He knew now that he would hang. A reclusive millionaire builds an isolated mansion to secure his privacy and keep the world out In this tale, there is nothing outwardly ghostly.

It is a story of unease, and we challenge you to make your radio set silent without listening all the way to 'Short Circuit'. Sir Dominick Sarsfield inherits an estate—one of the finest in Ireland—but spends much of his time drinking, dicing, racing, and playing cards. In a few short years the estate is in debt and Sir Dominick is a distressed man on the brink of suicide.

There doesn't seem to be a viable alternative, until he receives an offer After all this time the name's still there. Could a place like this ever be built up again, I wonder? Christmas season—a season for large gatherings and childish games in sprawling country houses. Fourteen young adults decide to play a game of smee a variation on hide-and-seek , played in the dark with unexpected results. The house is large; the hiding places, obscure. Has everyone been found? It's a game, something like go-hide-and-seek. They played it that night at the Sangston's. Just an ordinary game, Smee. Great fun at Christmas.

An ordinary Christmas, that is. But there was nothing ordinary about that Christmas night. Their delight with their new home wanes, however, and tensions rise as Kate becomes convinced that someone—or something—is watching her Returning home late one night, Justus Ancorwen is confronted by his worst nightmare—a huge spider lurking beside his drawing-room door.

He makes a run for it and barely escapes to the corridor outside his flat, but doesn't know where to turn for help in the middle of the night. He chooses Isabel Bishop—a woman who lives just upstairs A magazine writer specializing in cozy chats, preferably with titled persons. Lived in a flat. An expensive flat, directly below a lady by the name of Isabel Bishop. Used to pay court to Isabel. Cut her out of his life. Justus Ancorwen, self-satisfied, a glutton for good food.

Always avoided bread and potatoes because of his figure. Justus Ancorwen, all his life an unreasoning fear of Since childhood, Justus had dreaded that a spider might get on him, it's eight legs running up his flesh. He was convinced that he would die if one of the bent-legged brutes should as much as touch him. The very thought of the spider was enough to plunge Justus into the abyss The romance of a log fire entices an old man to reminisce with his grandson about a ball he once attended It was long ago and life was simpler then. And the ball was held at Campion's.

An invitation to a ball at Campion's and you were set for the whole year Then again, there is the tale which seems gentle enough, a story of normal happy people, recognizable scenes and not until the very end, indeed not until the last minute or so, does it become apparent that something is very, very wrong. My play tonight falls into this later category. Young Alexander Tavert, visiting his uncle in the Shetland Isles, discovers strange symbols in a disused passageway and begins to fear for the lives of himself and a female visitor when evidence suggests his uncle's allegiances might have a dark undertone.

I-I hope you'll not mind me calling you 'uncle'. After all, I know it's only by marriage. They all called [me] uncle—your father's full brother, Elsie, Norma, Matilda, Edna, and all their sisters, all called me uncle. Well, take yer bag, pick up yer feet, we've a fair walk. The house is set well back.

I built every brick of her with my own hands, and I completed the whole building and the barn without another man's hands to help me, inside of three years. I was 27 when I went to stay with my uncle [Foylan] in the [Shetland Isles]. He was a recluse, a one-time minister of the old kirk. A man who had become disillusioned with his god for some reason. A man who'd had three wives and never an heir to his name. My first impressions when the launch had dumped me on that desolate shore full of seagull cryings, [bladderweed], shells, and my father's half-brother as big as a barn, are difficult to recall after the passage of years, but I do know that for some strange reason I couldn't fathom, I felt a kind of awe that was not far removed from fear.

I turned and watched the launch, but she was already a quarter of a mile out towards the mainland again. I shook uncle [Foylan's] great hand, and so began the most terrifying weeks of my life. Local headmen complain to the Kenyan government in Nairobi that a renegade herd of elephants jumbos is destroying their crops and damaging their shambas. Two young hunters are hired to thin the herd, but they cannot find it—it seems to be hiding. Desperate, they ask a local witch doctor for help.

He agrees to tell them where the herd is Africa where many believe man had his very beginnings. Africa, where the most unbelievable but true stories originate. The year was ' Europe and North America were swamped in Jazz, racketeering, money, breadlines, and starvation. It was, as always, an unfair world where the poor rub shoulders with the rich in the hope that something would 'rub off' on them. To [Bryant and Younger] though, beginning their careers as hunters of elephant in Kenya, the not-so-gay '20s and the big, bright cities of the world might just as well have been on the moon.

During the holidays, a man visits his life-long friends on their centuries-old estate and falls in love with the portrait of a long-dead woman. Later that night, a strange thunderstorm transports him back in time, to , where he has a chance to meet her. A tip of the hat to observant listener Noelle who noticed that 'A Time for Thunder' takes place on the cliffs of Bembridge.

I once proposed to her, but she told me she loved me far too much to marry me.

A month later, she went to the altar with my best friend. And I spent the next five years puzzling out how a beautiful girl could possibly love someone 'too much' to marry them. China, Australia, East Africa. I enjoyed good times, experienced the ebb and flow of fortune. Then one day, I grew sick of travelling. I'd made money, but I didn't have much I wanted to do with it, so I sent a telegram to Seapoint, Bembridge, the Isle of Wight, on the off-chance that the Farringfords still lived there. She was lovelier than ever. December the 19th, as a matter of fact.

The strangest Christmas I've ever known. My story doesn't directly concern the gorgeous Petal, or her husband Chris, it concerns In all my days, my memory, I shall never, never forget her. A very faithful re-telling of Charles Dickens' classic tale. In times past, Signal-men manned outposts signal boxes along railways.

Telegraph lines connected these signal boxes and provided a means of transmitting warnings up and down the line. Upon receipt of a warning, the signal-man would light a lantern and alert passing trains. Interestingly, one of the jobs of the signal-man was to verify that each passing train still had its caboose attached.

If the caboose didn't arrive with the rest of the train, the signal-man knew the intervening section of track was NOT clear and he would sound the alarm. One would have thought he could not have doubted from what quarter the voice came; but instead of looking up to where I stood on the top of a steep cutting over the railway line, he turned himself about, and looked down the line. There was something remarkable about the man, about the way he stood, something strange, perhaps uncanny, but certainly I would have turned such a though mere imagination, then.

I know now what was remarkable about that man, and even though years have passed I still see his figure foreshortened and shadowed, down in the deep trench, my figure high above him, so steeped in the glow of an angry sunset, that I shaded my eyes with my hand before I saw him at all. Sevastopol Terrace, Crome Stratford. A writer staying at the widow Mrs Wane's house, finds himself the unwitting vehicle for her dead husband, Sidney, to reach back from the grave and deliver a final, parting message.

This is a true story. There's not much point in inventing ghost stories. Anyone can do it. It is rather like playing a game whose rules one has made up without telling anyone else what they are. The events I am going to report took place in the glorious blaze in the most marvellous summer in living memory. The summer of Good, it was, that summer to be alive, but to be young was very heaven. I was as old as the century, Sculptor Boris Yvain discovers a chemical solution that that turns living objects to marble—lilies, goldfish, rabbits—a curiosity he has no intention of exploiting, for doing so could destroy sculpture the same way that photography has destroyed painting.

Chambers, available at Project Gutenberg, as a short story within a collection called "The King in Yellow". That golden ray is the signal. Oh, what sculptor could reproduce that? Turned to stone, to the purest marble! It never fails though. The goldfish that once had floated in a glass bowl, now lay upon a small antique table, sculptured in marble. The stone was beautifully veined with a feint blue, and from somewhere within came a rosy light, like the tint which slumbers in an opal.

When the Russian-born sculptor had dropped the lily into the basin, the liquid it held had lost its crystalline clearness. For a second, the flower was enveloped in a milk-white foam, which disappeared leaving the fluid opalescent. Changing tints of orange and crimson played over the surface, and then, what seemed to be a ray of pure sunlight, struck through from the bottom where the lily was resting. It was at that precise moment, Boris had plunged a hand into the basin and drawn out a marble flower.

Night lifted it, laying bare the stifled truth below; but there was no one to see except myself, and when the day broke the mask fell back again of its own accord. A mysterious travelling couple are difficult to trace, as their names are forgotten by everyone they encounter and even disappear from the hotel registry! The man was idly looking through a basket of unmounted photographic prints.

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The drooping branches of the Hau tree shut out the glare of the late-afternoon sun, and the fluttering leaves were backgrounded by a purple-blue horizon, from which long lines of white surf came rolling in, curling nearer and nearer, until they washed softly up the sand to the line of rocks. The man continued to toss the prints over idly. Suddenly he stopped and bent forward. He bent forward over one of them. His expression was at first one of amazement, [is] changed into fear, and then disbelief illumined his face as he turned to the woman.

I shall not name the person who recounted it to me. I have no proof of its authenticity. I merely offer it to you as something quiet unbelievable, and yet, it happened. Under the Hau Tree. Colin Hunt, a plantation owner in Sierra Leone, is relaxing on his stoop early one evening when a self-assured young man Philip Milton arrives and starts acting as if he owns the place! Soon, friends of Philip Ann and David Stewart arrive and start demanding what Colin is doing in their home Took over a rice plantation back in the '20s, rolled up my sleeves, reorganized the soil, got it to do what I wanted it to do, and put in cocoa.

Rice erodes the soil, you see, in the uplands. The Southeastern province is the richest in Sierra Leone. Harvest it and you don't feel bad. Not wicked like you do when you put a chopper or a saw against a tree. I'm soft about trees; I prefer them to people if the truth were known. Anyway, that's enough about cocoa and trees. I've got a story to tell and it's one of the most impossible you've ever heard. One of the most impossible anyone ever heard. I wouldn't believe it at all if I were you. Won't make any difference to me. Unfortunately, I'm stuck with it, because you see it all happened to me.

The oddest night of my life. The injured leader of an archaeological expedition into the Amazon waxes jealous when his wife and their amorous Brazilian guide depart for help—so jealous that he sports truck with murderous natives known as the 'Vulture People' to retrieve her. A young Xavante native fanned him constantly to keep away the mosquitoes and the tiny vicious [hyeim] flies.

Occasionally, Sir Cedric tried to sit up, despite the adhesive strapped over his bare chest like a cocoon. But it was always the same, he sank back with a groan. The Mato Grosso interior. But boa constrictors are no respecters of titles. What's a knight of the realm to a great reptile disturbed from its slumber?

It acted in the only way possible. It whipped its coils around the blundering human and squeezed and squeezed and Sir Cedric, archeologist, passed from the dimming light of the jungle into and beyond, midnight" the narrator. To everyone's surprise, beautiful and flighty May Forster suddenly agrees to marry geeky, yet persistent, John Charrington. Friends speculate that Charrington has unduly influenced Miss Forster, but when the wedding date is set and invitations are sent it is obvious the betrothed are committed to spending eternity together. Nesbit, available at Project Gutenberg Australia.

There wasn't a man in Barkham that wasn't in love with Mae Forster. Oh, I remember her so well, the picture of her is imprinted on my mind. I had asked her twice myself. She laughed, of course, she always laughed, as if the whole idea of matrimony was the funniest joke in the world. I have to confess that we all secretly believed that Charrington had used something other than persuasion with her.

The queer thing about it was that when we congratulated Miss Forster, she blushed and smiled and dimpled for all the world as though she were in love with the man, as if she'd been in love with him all the time. Upon my word, I think she had been. Women are strange, impossible creatures. We were all asked to the wedding. September the 19th, The date is engraven upon my mind. Kyra Vaughan and her husband meet Lewis Banning while vacationing at Zweibergen, a small village in the Carpathian Mountains, during the Summer of Two local men have vanished during the past week and the townspeople are convinced a werewolf is responsible.

Vaughan and Banning take turns acting as bait to lure the werewolf out so the other can kill it. Another version was produced for Escape. The song of the birds. Those are the facts—facts that just a few people can never forget, and would give anything to forget. They were happy that day, very happy. Three civilized people had met together in a remote place. It was natural that they should wish to spend longer in one another's company.

They were happy, that day. But, terror killed the laughter.

Sixteen year-old Angela Peters is raped and murdered on Wimbledon common. Evidence points to the family chauffeur, George Yarrow, but there is not enough evidence to convict him of the crime. Thinking release from the police means he won't suffer the consequences for the murder he committed, Yarrow accepts his old job as chauffeur. Angela's father, however, is a noted scientist who has some interesting experiments in mind for his loyal employee. Jimmy - Well, take that horrible murder, for instance. Nothing anyone can do about the beggar. Woman - Jimmy, if the police know who's done it, why on Earth can't they arrest him?

Jimmy - Because, darling, the evidence is inconclusive. Man - You see, Mrs Clinton, a man can only be tried once for any murder, and the police are reasonably certain that sooner or later, he'll give himself away. Jimmy - Or the missing link in the chain will be filled in. Enticed by an eccentric, yet wealthy widow's substantial reward, a sceptic accepts an offer to spend a night locked in a supposedly haunted room in her mansion This story was announced the previous week as 'The Room'. It is based on the H. Wells story 'The Red Room'. See also "The Room" , Nightfall.

Wells, available at Project Gutenberg. Watts - 'Do you like ice Mr Todd? Watts - That's all right Gives me great pleasure to see a man drink whiskey, Mr Todd. My late husband was partial to it. Todd - Oh, lovely. Watts - Do I look like a spinster? Watts - Well, you seem determined to make me one. I have been one for twenty-two years. Watts - Atlas Whiskey. One of the first ever produced in Scotland. Not available in the general run of [? I'm honoured Watts - Oh, this is nice. So long since I've been able to offer my whiskey. I've had that bottle for nearly a quarter of a century.

Poor Alfred was the last to drink from it. He died the next day Shall we discuss the matter in hand? Narrator - They began to discuss the matter in hand, and Ronald Todd, bachelor, aged 33 of Landsdown Private Hotel, began his journey into the land that lies According to Springbok Radio, of the 78 episodes originally produced for Beyond Midnight , 71 are known to exist and 56 are in general circulation. Episodes were in standard minute format. Beyond Midnight was originally conceived as a simple replacement for the science fiction series SF 68 , but ended up being much more successful.

Its success may have been due in part to producer Michael McCabe who also produced SF 68 honing his talents to a higher degree.

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It appears that Michael McCabe wrote most of the scripts, many of which were adaptations of classic ghost stories with different titles. Chambers, Basil Copper, F. Edwards, William Hope Hodgson, W. Jacobs, Henry James, E. The episode titles below were obtained from Springbok Radio by way of Relic Radio.

Where possible, I have cross-referenced these titles to those more commonly used in the OTR community I count 63 'alternate' titles floating around, but there are probably more! Springbok Radio is currently engaged in restoring many of their programmes, so this list will be revised as more episodes are found, restored and released to the public. Many vendors offer the same episode for sale under multiple names, so beware. Sources used to create my own log and double-check titles, dates and cast members: Ghosts Available for Listening Booth: Marion Crawford , A slow-paced, narrator-driven story with minimal sound effects and music.

The written story has an element of wry humour which is missing in this production. Nevertheless, a solid adaptation. Available for Listening Booth: Mary Elizabeth Braddon , A somber, fatalistic tale with a predictable, yet strong, ending. Even though this is a simple story with a predictable plot and resolution, the acting and pacing still manage to create tension and a strong sense of foreboding.

Well-played by the female lead. Mystery Available for Listening Booth: Frank Gruber , Not really Suspense or Horror—more of a mystery. A bewildering mystery, at that, which winds its way from department to department in the world's largest department store. Why should you be sorry? Instead, it finishes up nice and tidy. I feel a bout of triskaidekaphobia coming on Kind of wish the Bonanza department store really existed Horror Available for Listening Booth: Oscar Cook , After hearing the end of the tale, the listener will appreciate the irony of the story's title!

The same story was featured on the U. Acting, par for the series. Story, slightly better than average. This tale touched a personal phobia of mine and had me cringing as each new detail unfolded, but if you don't share this phobia, you'll probably rate this episode lower. Supernatural Available for Listening Booth: Very poor audio quality Listening to a recording with such poor audio quality is like reading the Cliff's Notes of a novel—you get the plot and the character names, but much of the emotion and nuance are lost. I'd love to read a copy of this short story because I think there may be hidden depths.

Occult Available for Listening Booth: Sir Charles Lloyd Birkin , Slow start, strong ending: For the first 15 minutes, one wonders if this is merely a soap opera about a cheating husband. There's only one supernatural moment here, but it's enough to set off not only one terrifying ending, but two. While the opening is a bit of a yawn although the use of a female narrator instead of the typical male narrator provides some interest , the conclusion is drawn out just enough to evoke a solid feeling of gloom.

Birkin is known for brutally telling stories which are bleak and feature physical cruelty: This story falls more along the lines of psychological terror than actual physical cruelty. There is plenty of foreshadowing to suggest a grim ending Basil Copper , A slow-moving, tale that is well-written and well-acted. Even though the ending is predictable, Copper manages to create a suspenseful tale through the strong use visual imagery. A clever ending built around a mediocre tale. The acting was adequate, but I never warmed to either the story or the characters much of the episode involved the husband muttering under his breath.

Forty was so long ago, I can't remember what all the fuss was about. Burrage as Ex-Private X , Eh, to be honest, nothing spectacular. Basic setup, below average payoff. Best part is the atmosphere created when the protagonist first sees the figure beside the pool below his room. Henry Slesar , The plot's nothing new, but what makes this work is the acting at the conclusion. The story simply just flows along in terms of emotion, and then suddenly the wife lets out a performance that unnerves the listener. Acting was sound in both versions.

Robert Bloch , I enjoyed this quite a lot. I listen to voices the way some people watch performers. Everything just seemed right about this production: The plot teased me along, dribbling out details no quicker than necessary to create a sense of mystery. It was obvious from the beginning that Rusty didn't care much for women. But what of Helen? After meeting Keith, Cary's life changes as she finds she has feelings which she thought were forever forgotten.

As their relationship grows, Cary and Keith unbox an antique radio from her mother's attic, only to discover that holding on to the item holds dire consequences. Written by Mark A. Visit Prime Video to explore more titles. Find showtimes, watch trailers, browse photos, track your Watchlist and rate your favorite movies and TV shows on your phone or tablet!

Keep track of everything you watch; tell your friends. Full Cast and Crew. After meeting Keith, Cary's life changes as she Clark IV , Mark France. Share this Rating Title: Use the HTML below. You must be a registered user to use the IMDb rating plugin. Photos Add Image Add an image Do you have any images for this title? Edit Cast Credited cast:

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