Disappearances in the Stories of Ambrose Bierce

Chilling Tales of the Unexplained in Late 19th Century America

Sep 4, 2009

Critic Ambrose Bierce's short stories explore, by means of mysterious disappearances, the trauma of war, the grieving process, and the effects of social isolation.

Disappearances have always occupied a special place in the heart of any mystery lover. There’s something both romantic and deeply frightening about somebody simply vanishing over the horizon, never to return. Ambrose Bierce, known best for his acerbic criticism, was also popular as a short story writer, and often featured disappearances in his works. Perhaps he was enamoured of the idea; the man himself disappeared one day in 1913.

The Author

Ambrose Bierce was born in Ohio in 1842. He enlisted in 1861, and so witnessed some of the Civil War’s most significant battles, though he was forced to resign in 1865 due to a head injury.

Bierce would eventually become a regular contributor to the San Francisco News-Letter, known best as the devastatingly apt author of the critical column, "The Town Crier". He would become a sensation, beginning to move in literary circles and meet other writers, among them Mark Twain.

Bierce began to publish short fiction in the 1860s, and, as he moved from journalistic post to journalistic post, continued to exercise his acid wit in essays and short sketches. His most famous short story, “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge”, was published in 1890.

Towards the end of his career Bierce wrote more and more on political topics, but, growing eventually disillusioned, he left for revolutionary Mexico in 1913. He never returned, and there exists no substantial proof as to where he was in his final days.

Distance in Ambrose Bierce's Short Stories

The terse style and journalistic tone of Bierce’s short stories would make them resistant to metaphoric interpretation, if only his stories did not often deal with the same subjects: solitary people, failed attachments, the trauma of war. Certainly Bierce was interested in the effect that distance, physical or emotional, could have on an individual and a community.

In these three stories, distance is represented in its most complete form: disappearance.

"At Old Man Eckert’s"

A double disappearance marks this short tale. At its beginning, old man Eckert, a quiet and unremarkable man, has already vanished without explanation from his weather-beaten house, and become something of a local legend. Many assert that his house is haunted; and so three men agree to stay the night at his house and figure out the truth. But only two men leave the location that next morning.

Disappearance, in this tale, seems to operate as an extension to old man Eckert’s unsociable ways. It is as though the man had shrunk more and more into himself until he was completely eclipsed. And there is something grasping, even jealous, about this drawing in of the self - an idea suggested by the story’s chilling final sentence.

"An Unfinished Race"

A shoemaker, name of Worson, gets drunk and bets that he can run forty miles at one shot. And off he goes, followed by some friends in a cart, until he encounters a sudden impediment: he has disappeared, and his friends are left to explain as they might what occurred.

This story may use disappearance as a means of exempting the self from the competition of everyday life. Worson’s shoemaking shop is described as “humble”; there is certainly nothing up-and-coming about this hard-drinking tradesman. The fact that his friends are in the midst of cheering Worson on when he vanishes lends some depth to this interpretation - as though Worson could not bear to be patronized any longer.

"Charles Ashmore’s Trail"

Sometimes the most interesting thing about a disappearance is the suggestion of a return. In this tale, a farmer’s son leaves the house one winter’s night to fetch some water from the spring. When he doesn’t come back, his father follows his tracks halfway to the spring, at which point they cease entirely.

Soon, however, the family begins to hear his voice near the spring, faint but quite recognizable. But before long, the voice dies away, and the family members are left to face down their grief once and for all.

Indeed, Bierce seems to be examining the process of grieving here; Charles’ partial return is representative of the hope that lingers, then gradually dissipates after a tragic, but inconclusive catastrophe.