Re-imagining 'The Call of Cthulhu'

Putting the ending of HP Lovecraft's Call of Cthulhu through a makeover. This is fan fiction and not intended for profit.


March 22nd.
S. Latitude 49 51, W. Longitude 128 34.

Gustaf Johansen, formerly 2nd mate of the Emma and now in command of the privateer, Alert, pushed his dirty-blond hair back from his eyes, and stared at the photograph of his wife. He trembled with reaction for a long moment, his hands shaking from the aftermath of battle. The photo slipped from his grip, but even with his strained nerves, he caught it again before it fell to the floor.

He longed to return to her. He missed her terribly. Silently praying for their reunion; his prayer a slim flame of faith before a storm of doubt. Captain Collins and 1st mate Green were dead; slaughtered by the mad crew of the Alert. Now the safety of the surviving crew fell to him, an unexpected and dreadful responsibility.

With a metal clip, he pinned the photo onto the mirror of a locker room door in the captain’s cabin. He glanced in the mirror, taking a second look before he recognized himself. His face was black with soot, speckled with the blood and filth of other men. The eyes peering back at him were shrouded with a nightmare of sudden violence.

The original crew of the Alert had attacked the Emma with fanatical determination, but had died as the Emma sank beneath the waves. The desperate crew of the Emma, led by Johansen, had slain them all in a vicious battle of sharp knives, lethal hooks and heavy bludgeons. Now, counting himself, there were eight survivors to crew the Alert back to a safe harbor.

Heavy storms had blown the Emma far off course before the fateful encounter with the crew of the Alert. They were deep in the South Pacific. Johansen wondered to himself what dangers remained to be faced on the return voyage. Would he be able to bring his crew safely back to port? Would he be reunited with his beloved wife?

And what part would be played by the strange, squid-dragon idol? Whose presence had sent a dreadful shiver up his spine before he had even laid eyes upon it. Whose sight had almost unmanned him with terror. An object of veneration by the crew of the Alert, who had chanted its foul name as they attacked with crazed abandon.

‘Cthulhu! Cthulhu! Cthulhu!’

He had to know. He vowed to himself to uncover the mysteries of the idol and the terrifying madness it inspired or die trying.

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Read it in full here.