He smiled, a little. Or rather, that crease wrinkled back in a poor imitation of amusement. But on his face a smile had no more mirth in it than the grin you see on a skull.
1942“Black Bargain, by Robert Bloch. (1942) Having explored a fair few stories by a slightly fewer number of authors, I’m starting to find those I like. Robert Bloch is one of them. Norman Bates is something of a character, but so is this bored chemist, if you like some darker humour with your evening frights.









