September 2, 2025 • 12 mins
Discover the enchanting world of Day And Night Stories, featuring fifteen captivating short tales by Algernon Henry Blackwood, CBE (1869 ‚ì 1951). Renowned as one of the most prolific ghost story writers, Blackwoods work blends the supernatural with the ethereal, inviting readers into a realm of wonder and intrigue. A journalist and broadcasting narrator, he has been acclaimed for his consistently exceptional storytelling, with literary critic S. T. Joshi noting that his contributions stand among the finest in the genre. Immerse yourself in these timeless narratives that explore the mysteries of life and the unknown.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Story fifteen of Day and Night Stories by Algernon Blackwood.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Story fifteen
the tradition. The noises outside the little flat at first
were very disconcerting. After living in the country, they made
sleep difficult. At the cottage in Sussex, where the family
(00:22):
had lived, night brought deep, comfortable silence unless the wind
was high, when the pine trees round the duck pond
made a sound like surf, or if the gale was
from the southwest, the orchard roared a bit unpleasantly. But
in London it was very different. Sleep was easier in
the daytime than at night. For after nightfall the rumble
(00:44):
of the traffic became spasmodic instead of continuous. The motor
horns startled like warnings of alarm. After comparative silence, the
furious rushing of a taxicab touched the nerves. From dinner
till eleven o'clock, the streets subsided gradually, then came the
army from theaters, parties and late dinners hurrying home to bed.
(01:07):
The motor horns during this hour were lively and incessant,
like bugles of a regiment moving into battle. The parents
rarely retired until this attack was over. If quick about it,
sleep was possible. Then before the flying of the night birds,
an uncertain squadron screamed half the street awake again, but
(01:30):
these finally disposed of. A delightful hush settled down upon
the neighborhood, profounder far than any peace of the countryside.
The deep rumble of the produce wagons coming into the
big London markets from the farms, generally about three a m.
Held no disturbing quality. But sometimes, in the stillness of
(01:51):
very early morning, when streets were empty and pavements all deserted,
there was a sound of another kind that was startling
and unwelcome, for it was ominous. It came with a
clattering violence that made nerves quiver and forced the heart
to pause and listen. A strange resonance was in it,
a volume of sound. Moreover, that was hardly justified by
(02:14):
its cause, for it was hoofs. A horse swept hurrying
up the deserted street, and was close upon the building
in a moment it was audible. Suddenly, no gradual approach
from a distance, but as though it turned a corner
from soft ground that muffled the hoofs on to the
echoing hard paving that emphasized the dreadful clatter. Nor did
(02:36):
it die away again when once the house was reached,
it ceased as abruptly as it came. The hoofs did
not go away. It was the mother who heard them
first and drew her husband's attention to their disagreeable quality.
It is the mail van's, dear, he answered. They go
at four a m. To catch the early trains into
(02:57):
the country. She looked up sharply, as though something in
his tone surprised her. But there's no sound of wheels,
she said, And then, as he did not reply, she
added gravely, you have heard it too, John, I can
tell I have. He said, I have heard it twice,
and they looked at one another, searchingly, each trying to
(03:19):
read the other's mind. She did not question him. He
did not propose writing to complain in a newspaper. Both
understood something that neither of them understood. I heard it first,
she then said, softly. The night before Jack got the fever,
and as I listened, I heard him crying. But when
I went in to see he was asleep. The noise
(03:41):
stopped just outside the building. There was a shadow in
her eyes as she said this, and a hush crept
in between her words. I did not hear it go.
She said this, almost beneath her breath. He looked a
moment at the ground, Then coming towards her, he took
her in his arms and kicked, and she clung very
(04:02):
tightly to him. Sometimes, he said, in a quiet voice,
a mounted policeman passes down the street. I think it
is a horse. She answered, But whether it was a
question or mere co operation, he did not ask for.
At that moment, the doctor arrived, and the question of
little Jack's health became the paramount matter of immediate interest.
(04:25):
The Great Man's verdict was uncommonly disquieting. All that night
they sat up in the sick room. It was strangely still,
as though by one accord. The traffic avoided the house
where a little boy hung between life and death. The
motor horns even had a muffled sound, and heavy drays
and wagons used the wide streets. There were fewer taxicabs
(04:49):
about or else They flew by noiselessly, yet no straw
was down. The expense prohibited that, and towards morning, very early,
the mother decided to watch alone. She had been a
trained nurse before her marriage, accustomed when she was younger
to long vigils. You go down, dear, and get a
little sleep, she urged in a whisper. He's quiet now.
(05:13):
At five o'clock, I'll come for you to take my place.
You'll fetch me at once, he whispered, if then hesitated,
as though breath failed him. A moment. He stood there,
staring from her face to the bed. If you hear anything,
he finished. She nodded, and he went downstairs to his study,
not to his bedroom. He left the door ajar. He
(05:36):
sat in darkness, listening Mother, he knew was listening too,
beside the bed. His heart was very full, for he
did not believe the boy could live till morning. The
picture of the room was all the time before his eyes,
the shaded lamp, the table with the medicines, the little
wasted figure beneath the blankets, and mother close beside it, listening.
(05:59):
He sat alert, ready to fly upstairs at the smallest cry.
But no sound broke the stillness. The entire neighborhood was silent.
All London slept. He heard the clock strike three in
the dining room at the end of the corridor. It
was still enough for that there was not even the
heavy rumble of a single produce wagon, though usually they
(06:22):
passed about this time on their way to Smithfield and
Gouvent Garden markets. He waited far too anxious to close
his eyes. At four o'clock he would go up and
relieve her vigil, for he knew was the time when
life sinks to its lowest ebb. Then in the middle
of his reflections, thought stopped dead, and it seemed his
(06:44):
heart stopped too far away, but coming nearer with extraordinary rapidity,
A sharp, clear sound broke out of the surrounding stillness,
a horse's hoofs. At first, it was so distant that
it might have been almost on the high road of
the country. But the amazing speed with which it came closer,
(07:04):
and the sudden increase of the beating sound, was such
that by the time he turned his head it seemed
to have entered the street outside. It was within a
hundred yards of the building. The next second it was
before the very door, and something in him blenched. He
knew a moment's complete paralysis. The abrupt cessation of the
(07:25):
heavy clatter was strangest of all. It came like lightning.
It struck, it paused, it did not go away again.
Yet the sound of it was still beating in his
ears as he dashed upstairs, three steps at a time.
It seemed in the house as well on the stairs
behind him. In the little passageway inside the very bedroom,
(07:47):
it was an appalling sound. Yet he entered a room
that was quiet, orderly and calm. It was silent. Beside
the bed. His wife sat, holding Jack's hand and stroking it.
She was soothing him. Her face was very peaceful. No sound,
but her gentle whisper was audible. He controlled himself by
(08:09):
a tremendous effort, but his face betrayed his consternation and distress. Hush,
she said, beneath her breath. He's sleeping much more calmly now.
The crisis, bless God, is over. I do believe. I
dared not leave him. He saw in a moment that
she was right, and an untenable relief passed over him.
(08:32):
He sat down beside her, very cold yet perspiring with heat.
You heard, he asked, after a pause. Nothing, she replied quickly,
except his pitiful wild words. When the delirium was on him.
It's past, it's lasted, but a moment or I'd have
called you. He stared closely into her tired eyes, and
(08:54):
his words he asked in a whisper, whereupon she told
him quietly that the little chap had set up with
wide opened eyes and talked excitedly about a great, great horse.
He heard, but that was not coming for him. He laughed,
and said he would not go with it because he
was not ready yet. Some scrap of talk he had
(09:16):
overheard from us, she added, when we discussed the traffic once.
But you heard nothing, he repeated, almost impatiently. No, she
had heard nothing after all. Then he had dozed a
moment in his chair. Four weeks later, Jack entirely convalescent,
was playing a restricted game of hide and seek with
(09:38):
his sister in the flat. It was really a forbidden joy,
owing to noise and risk of breakages, but he had
unusual privileges after his grave illness. It was dusk. The
lamps in the street were being lit quietly. Remember your
mother's resting in her room were the father's orders. She
(09:58):
had just returned from a week by the sea, recuperating
from the strain of nursing for so many nights. The
traffic rolled and boomed along the streets below. Jack, do
come on and hide. It's your turn. I hid last,
But the boy was standing spellbound by the window, staring
hard at something on the pavement. Sybil called and tugged,
(10:20):
in vain tears threatened. Jack would not budge. He declared
he saw something. Oh you're always seeing something. I wish
you'd go and hide. It's only because you can't think
of a good place. Really, Look, he cried in a
voice of wonder, And as he said it, his father
rose quickly from his chair before the fire. Look, the
(10:43):
child repeated, with delight and excitement. It's a great, big horse,
and it's perfectly white all over. His sister joined him
at the window. Where where I can't see it? Oh,
do show me. Their father was standing close behind them.
Now I I heard it. He was whispering, but so
low the children did not notice him. His face was
(11:05):
the color of chalk, straight in front of our door. Stupid,
can't you see it? Oh? I do wish it had
come for me. It's such a beauty. And he clapped
his hands with pleasure and excitement. Quick quick, it's going
away again. But while The children stood half squabbling by
the window. Their father leaned over a sofa in the
adjoining room, above a figure whose heart, in sleep had
(11:30):
quietly stopped its beating. The great white horse had come,
But this time he had not only heard its wonderful arrival.
He had also heard it go. It seemed, he heard
the awful hoofs beat down the sky, far far away,
and very swiftly dying into silence, finally up among the stars.
(11:54):
End of Story fifteen, End of Day and Night Stories
by Algren and Blackwood.
Story fifteen of Day and Night Stories by Algernon Blackwood.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Story fifteen
the tradition. The noises outside the little flat at first
were very disconcerting. After living in the country, they made
sleep difficult. At the cottage in Sussex, where the family
(00:22):
had lived, night brought deep, comfortable silence unless the wind
was high, when the pine trees round the duck pond
made a sound like surf, or if the gale was
from the southwest, the orchard roared a bit unpleasantly. But
in London it was very different. Sleep was easier in
the daytime than at night. For after nightfall the rumble
(00:44):
of the traffic became spasmodic instead of continuous. The motor
horns startled like warnings of alarm. After comparative silence, the
furious rushing of a taxicab touched the nerves. From dinner
till eleven o'clock, the streets subsided gradually, then came the
army from theaters, parties and late dinners hurrying home to bed.
(01:07):
The motor horns during this hour were lively and incessant,
like bugles of a regiment moving into battle. The parents
rarely retired until this attack was over. If quick about it,
sleep was possible. Then before the flying of the night birds,
an uncertain squadron screamed half the street awake again, but
(01:30):
these finally disposed of. A delightful hush settled down upon
the neighborhood, profounder far than any peace of the countryside.
The deep rumble of the produce wagons coming into the
big London markets from the farms, generally about three a m.
Held no disturbing quality. But sometimes, in the stillness of
(01:51):
very early morning, when streets were empty and pavements all deserted,
there was a sound of another kind that was startling
and unwelcome, for it was ominous. It came with a
clattering violence that made nerves quiver and forced the heart
to pause and listen. A strange resonance was in it,
a volume of sound. Moreover, that was hardly justified by
(02:14):
its cause, for it was hoofs. A horse swept hurrying
up the deserted street, and was close upon the building
in a moment it was audible. Suddenly, no gradual approach
from a distance, but as though it turned a corner
from soft ground that muffled the hoofs on to the
echoing hard paving that emphasized the dreadful clatter. Nor did
(02:36):
it die away again when once the house was reached,
it ceased as abruptly as it came. The hoofs did
not go away. It was the mother who heard them
first and drew her husband's attention to their disagreeable quality.
It is the mail van's, dear, he answered. They go
at four a m. To catch the early trains into
(02:57):
the country. She looked up sharply, as though something in
his tone surprised her. But there's no sound of wheels,
she said, And then, as he did not reply, she
added gravely, you have heard it too, John, I can
tell I have. He said, I have heard it twice,
and they looked at one another, searchingly, each trying to
(03:19):
read the other's mind. She did not question him. He
did not propose writing to complain in a newspaper. Both
understood something that neither of them understood. I heard it first,
she then said, softly. The night before Jack got the fever,
and as I listened, I heard him crying. But when
I went in to see he was asleep. The noise
(03:41):
stopped just outside the building. There was a shadow in
her eyes as she said this, and a hush crept
in between her words. I did not hear it go.
She said this, almost beneath her breath. He looked a
moment at the ground, Then coming towards her, he took
her in his arms and kicked, and she clung very
(04:02):
tightly to him. Sometimes, he said, in a quiet voice,
a mounted policeman passes down the street. I think it
is a horse. She answered, But whether it was a
question or mere co operation, he did not ask for.
At that moment, the doctor arrived, and the question of
little Jack's health became the paramount matter of immediate interest.
(04:25):
The Great Man's verdict was uncommonly disquieting. All that night
they sat up in the sick room. It was strangely still,
as though by one accord. The traffic avoided the house
where a little boy hung between life and death. The
motor horns even had a muffled sound, and heavy drays
and wagons used the wide streets. There were fewer taxicabs
(04:49):
about or else They flew by noiselessly, yet no straw
was down. The expense prohibited that, and towards morning, very early,
the mother decided to watch alone. She had been a
trained nurse before her marriage, accustomed when she was younger
to long vigils. You go down, dear, and get a
little sleep, she urged in a whisper. He's quiet now.
(05:13):
At five o'clock, I'll come for you to take my place.
You'll fetch me at once, he whispered, if then hesitated,
as though breath failed him. A moment. He stood there,
staring from her face to the bed. If you hear anything,
he finished. She nodded, and he went downstairs to his study,
not to his bedroom. He left the door ajar. He
(05:36):
sat in darkness, listening Mother, he knew was listening too,
beside the bed. His heart was very full, for he
did not believe the boy could live till morning. The
picture of the room was all the time before his eyes,
the shaded lamp, the table with the medicines, the little
wasted figure beneath the blankets, and mother close beside it, listening.
(05:59):
He sat alert, ready to fly upstairs at the smallest cry.
But no sound broke the stillness. The entire neighborhood was silent.
All London slept. He heard the clock strike three in
the dining room at the end of the corridor. It
was still enough for that there was not even the
heavy rumble of a single produce wagon, though usually they
(06:22):
passed about this time on their way to Smithfield and
Gouvent Garden markets. He waited far too anxious to close
his eyes. At four o'clock he would go up and
relieve her vigil, for he knew was the time when
life sinks to its lowest ebb. Then in the middle
of his reflections, thought stopped dead, and it seemed his
(06:44):
heart stopped too far away, but coming nearer with extraordinary rapidity,
A sharp, clear sound broke out of the surrounding stillness,
a horse's hoofs. At first, it was so distant that
it might have been almost on the high road of
the country. But the amazing speed with which it came closer,
(07:04):
and the sudden increase of the beating sound, was such
that by the time he turned his head it seemed
to have entered the street outside. It was within a
hundred yards of the building. The next second it was
before the very door, and something in him blenched. He
knew a moment's complete paralysis. The abrupt cessation of the
(07:25):
heavy clatter was strangest of all. It came like lightning.
It struck, it paused, it did not go away again.
Yet the sound of it was still beating in his
ears as he dashed upstairs, three steps at a time.
It seemed in the house as well on the stairs
behind him. In the little passageway inside the very bedroom,
(07:47):
it was an appalling sound. Yet he entered a room
that was quiet, orderly and calm. It was silent. Beside
the bed. His wife sat, holding Jack's hand and stroking it.
She was soothing him. Her face was very peaceful. No sound,
but her gentle whisper was audible. He controlled himself by
(08:09):
a tremendous effort, but his face betrayed his consternation and distress. Hush,
she said, beneath her breath. He's sleeping much more calmly now.
The crisis, bless God, is over. I do believe. I
dared not leave him. He saw in a moment that
she was right, and an untenable relief passed over him.
(08:32):
He sat down beside her, very cold yet perspiring with heat.
You heard, he asked, after a pause. Nothing, she replied quickly,
except his pitiful wild words. When the delirium was on him.
It's past, it's lasted, but a moment or I'd have
called you. He stared closely into her tired eyes, and
(08:54):
his words he asked in a whisper, whereupon she told
him quietly that the little chap had set up with
wide opened eyes and talked excitedly about a great, great horse.
He heard, but that was not coming for him. He laughed,
and said he would not go with it because he
was not ready yet. Some scrap of talk he had
(09:16):
overheard from us, she added, when we discussed the traffic once.
But you heard nothing, he repeated, almost impatiently. No, she
had heard nothing after all. Then he had dozed a
moment in his chair. Four weeks later, Jack entirely convalescent,
was playing a restricted game of hide and seek with
(09:38):
his sister in the flat. It was really a forbidden joy,
owing to noise and risk of breakages, but he had
unusual privileges after his grave illness. It was dusk. The
lamps in the street were being lit quietly. Remember your
mother's resting in her room were the father's orders. She
(09:58):
had just returned from a week by the sea, recuperating
from the strain of nursing for so many nights. The
traffic rolled and boomed along the streets below. Jack, do
come on and hide. It's your turn. I hid last,
But the boy was standing spellbound by the window, staring
hard at something on the pavement. Sybil called and tugged,
(10:20):
in vain tears threatened. Jack would not budge. He declared
he saw something. Oh you're always seeing something. I wish
you'd go and hide. It's only because you can't think
of a good place. Really, Look, he cried in a
voice of wonder, And as he said it, his father
rose quickly from his chair before the fire. Look, the
(10:43):
child repeated, with delight and excitement. It's a great, big horse,
and it's perfectly white all over. His sister joined him
at the window. Where where I can't see it? Oh,
do show me. Their father was standing close behind them.
Now I I heard it. He was whispering, but so
low the children did not notice him. His face was
(11:05):
the color of chalk, straight in front of our door. Stupid,
can't you see it? Oh? I do wish it had
come for me. It's such a beauty. And he clapped
his hands with pleasure and excitement. Quick quick, it's going
away again. But while The children stood half squabbling by
the window. Their father leaned over a sofa in the
adjoining room, above a figure whose heart, in sleep had
(11:30):
quietly stopped its beating. The great white horse had come,
But this time he had not only heard its wonderful arrival.
He had also heard it go. It seemed, he heard
the awful hoofs beat down the sky, far far away,
and very swiftly dying into silence, finally up among the stars.
(11:54):
End of Story fifteen, End of Day and Night Stories
by Algren and Blackwood.
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