A couple of years ago I was babbling on (and on) about those things that scared me as a kid and I thought I did a pretty thorough job dredging up all the stuff that kept me awake, wide-eyed, and sweating under the covers at night.
The Horrors of It All recently sparked a repressed memory (and bless this guy's heart, he's kindly provided scans of the interior pages here and here):
Now, if this was merely a matter of musty meandering mummies I wouldn't even mention it; monsters going around doing their monster business was why I read these things in the first place. But there's this one scene...
Oh, man! Suffocating. Alone. In the dark. Took me weeks to get over that. Then I saw Universal's version of The Mummy on Shock Theater one scary Saturday afternoon--fast forward to 0:41--and I was never the same again.
Yeah, I don't think I'll be reading Buried Alive: The Terrifying History of Our Most Primal Fear any time soon.