Project Gutenberg, $0.00
Horror, 2024 (Reissue)

Ah, the good old days, before emails, cell phones, and doomscrolling, when information was painstakingly transmitted via telegraph, deciphered, typed on a typewriter, and then mailed. Slow? Sure. But at least nobody had to read a corporate “We’re all in this together” email at 3 AM.

HF Arnold’s The Night Wire masterfully taps into this vintage communication setup to deliver a story that is short, chilling, and utterly brilliant. It’s one of the most popular tales ever printed in the magazine Weird Tales, and for good reason: it’s all creeping dread, existential horror, and just the right amount of “Oh God, we’re all doomed.”

The setup is simple. An unnamed night shift operator starts receiving mysterious transmissions from a place called Xebico—a town that, as far as anyone knows, does not exist. The messages describe an eerie, impenetrable fog swallowing everything in its path. Sounds familiar? If John Carpenter didn’t at least subconsciously absorb this tale before making The Fog, I’d be very surprised.

What makes The Night Wire so fantastic is its sheer efficiency. In just a few telegrams, it builds a slow, suffocating sense of doom. There’s no escape, no hero, no last-minute miracle—just a haunting, apocalyptic play-by-play from someone who is running out of time. It’s the kind of horror that seeps into your bones and makes you glance nervously out the window, just to be sure the streetlights are still there.

Then, of course, you wonder what a modern remake would look like. A group of influencers shrieking into their livestreams? A painfully overlong Netflix series with an unnecessary love triangle? No, some things are too good to be touched by the unworthy. The Night Wire is perfect as it is: an unsettling, masterful slice of horror that lingers long after you finish reading.