stant objects,--a piece of rock,--a fall in the ground--which were quite invisible to me now. I plucked up a brave heart, however, and took what seemed to me the right road. It was wrong, nevertheless, and led me whither I knew not, but to some wild boggy moor where the solitude seemed painful, intense, as if never footfall of man had come thither to break the silence. I tried to shout--with the dimmest possible hope of being heard--rather to reassure myself by the sound of my own voice; but my voice came husky and short, and yet it dismayed me; it seemed so weird and strange, in that noiseless expanse of black darkness. Suddenly the air was filled thick with dusky flakes, my face and hands were wet with snow. It cut me off from the slightest knowledge of where I was, for I lost every idea of the direction from which I had come, so that I could not even retrace my steps; it hemmed me in, thicker, thicker, with a darkness that might be felt. The boggy soil on which I stood quaked under me if I remained l
Not really a horror story, so much as one about a family's internal prejudices. The narrator is his father's favourite; his half-brother (different father) is ostracized when their mother dies, and almost banished from the family.
Nice characterizations and descriptions. The story seems set in England, but it could be anywhere.