Hi and welcome back to 99, bedtime stories to keep you awake. I'm your host, Raviachadri. In this week's episode, we revisit

the place that occupies my own personal nightmares, the deep dark ocean, and what is

perhaps author F Marion Crawford's most famous horror story ever.

The Upper Birth by F. Marion Crawford. Somebody asked for the cigars. We had talked long and the conversation was beginning to languish.

The tobacco smoke had got into the heavy curtains. and the conversation was beginning to languish.

The tobacco smoke had got into the heavy curtains.

He had got wine in those brains which were liable to become heavy,

and it was already perfectly evident that unless somebody did something to rouse our oppressed spirits, the meeting

would soon come to its natural conclusion, and we, the guests, would speedily go home to

bed and most certainly to sleep.

No one had said anything very remarkable.

It may be that no one had anything remarkable to say.

Jones had given us every particular of his last hunting adventure in Yorkshire.

Mr. Tompkins of Boston had explained at elaborate length those working principles by the

due and careful maintenance of which the Achison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad not only extended its territory, increased its departmental influence, and transported livestock without starving them to death before the day of actual delivery,

but also had for years succeeded in deceiving those passengers

who bought its tickets into the fallacious belief

that the corporation of force ed

was really able to transport human life without destroying it.

Senor Tumbola had endeavored to persuade us by arguments which we took no trouble to oppose that the

unity of his country in no way resembled the average

modern torpedo, carefully planned, constructed with all the skill of the greatest European

...