Not everything is King and Lovecraft....

What's that we feel when an unexpicable and forceful weight press us against our chest, and forces us to shiver and sweet cold against our will while numerous thoughts of death and the unknown haunt us? 

What are you going to do if someday the earth starts to rotate in an incredible speed and the thick line that help us to identify the difference between day and night becomes thinner, barely perceptible? What are you going to do if for some reason your role in this life is to witness your own death and the end of the universe?

I don't know if the correct word is terror, but I feel something more dreadful when I was reading The House on the Borderland by William Hope Hodgson, an author of the nineteen century, whom inspire Lovecraft (says the Wikipedia, I don't know for sure). 

I bring this to you because when I was searching for horror books in the Internet always appears the same fucking authors of always: Lovecraft and Stephen King. I'm sick of it, and maybe you're too. 

On the other hand, I find in The House on the Borderland a very fright and delightful story...The House that William Hope creates, through the pages, in our minds is addressed on the Border of the unknown: First, it's only a house located in the countryside of Ireland, in the middle of nowhere (let me tell you), then you realize that the House is at the Border of the space and time and terror, anything could happen in this house. 

The lurid story of this House has nothing to do with ghost, vampires, werewolves or whatever other horror thing that, with the time, becomes very familiar to everyone. The horror that this house encloses is far beyond of anything usual. There was a moment in which I cannot read any further, because the dreadful feeling that attacks me...

All I can say to you: READ THE HOUSE ON THE BORDERLAND, you're gonna regret it......