Beneath the crumbling tombstones of Salem's old cemetery, something stirs in the dark. The dead do not rest easy here, not because of ghosts, but because of what lurks beneath-the scurrying, gnawing, ever-hungry things that slither through tunnels older than memory. Massing in the catacombs, these rats are no mere vermin. They are watchers, thieves of the dead, and perhaps something far worse. For every corpse lowered into the earth, another vanishes, stolen away into the labyrinth of writhing shadows. The cemetery's keeper, a man as desperate as he is ruthless, has seen too much and suspects even more. But when he dares to venture underground to reclaim his illicit spoils, he will come to understand-some secrets are best left buried.  Henry Kuttner's The Graveyard Rats is a masterpiece of creeping dread, a story that seeps into the mind like damp earth through a cracked coffin lid. A descent into the claustrophobic horror of the unseen, where the gnawing in the dark is more than just hunger-it is a whisper of something ancient, something patient, something waiting. Dare you follow the echoes of scratching claws into the tunnels below?