UNSPEAKABLE!

Lovecraftian horror at its most insidious!

Do you dare read a story so horrifying, it will freeze-dry your soul, grind it into granules, and then sprinkle those granules on a pizza topped with roadkill nuggets and clotted shoggoth ichor? If so, read this ghastly tale of the grotesque from Mark McLaughlin, the doom-shrouded author of Best Little Witch-House in Arkham.



UNSPEAKABLE!
by Mark McLaughlin (previously appeared in LOVECRAFT'S DISCIPLES No. 12, U.K.)


There are those who believe that true horror can only transpire in the most grotesque and doom-laden of surroundings. They would have you think that the gibbering, uncouth abnormalities that haunt the madness-spawned extremes of existence can only be seen, touched, and perhaps – God help us! – even smelled only when one has strayed beyond the blessed light into the pestilent, Stygian depths of unhallowed darkness and soul-searing doom.

To those who would make such statements, I would have only this to say, were they to ask me if I believed in their far-flung, delirious claims:

No.

For it was in the well-lit, lurid, tawdry glare of the Turtledale Mall, at about 2:15 p.m. on a busy Saturday afternoon, that I saw a hideous, mind-blasting waking nightmare of such putrescent unspeakableness, I actually was not able to speak about it. And the frustrating thing is, none of the other shoppers saw that squamous abomination which had torn my psyche to weensy bits with its glistening horrendousness, for it was crouched upon a steel girder high overhead. The mall's designers had apparently been influenced by that whole 'warm industrial' look, which uses a lot of bright colors, but also features exposed ductwork and painted beams and whatnot. It's kind of a kitschy take on a post-modern theme and I think the designers were really just trying to cut corners by not installing fake ceilings, but hey, what do I know? I'm no architect.

I'd just happened to look up when that mildew-ridden, diabolical presence had chosen to peek out from behind a girder, high overhead. I don't know why I was looking up – maybe I was just stretching some stiff neck muscles, I can't remember – but suddenly: BAM! I saw the creature, it saw me, we looked at each other, and that monumental moment of bloatsome blasphemy numbed my brain with fear-packed frighteningness, so that all I could do was continue to look up and utter "Gugg!" repeatedly.

I was really trying to exclaim, "Gosh, that otherworldly entity is certainly cause for worry, especially in such a crowded mall, with children and sweet old grannies and other pleasant family members shopping, blissfully unaware of that which lurks above!" But alas, I was only able to force a croak of "Gugg!" out from between my terror-paralyzed lips.

I wanted to point out that indescribable indecency that hid overhead to the other shoppers, so I kept trying to point upward with both hands, crying out, "Gugg! Gugg!" – but woe is me, the mall's sound system was playing a kicky pop song, and all the other shoppers simply thought I was dancing, since I happened to be pointing repeatedly upward and shouting "Gugg!" in time to the music.

Some of them must have thought we were all on some kind of reality TV show, because pretty soon, other shoppers put down their bags and began pointing upward repeatedly and crying out, "Gugg! Gugg!" in time to the kicky pop tune.

Then a TV crew from Channel 5 Action News showed up, and reporter Olga Wong told the viewers at home all about a new dance craze that was sweeping its way through the Turtledale Mall, and I was really upset that she wouldn't look up, no matter how much pointing I did or how many times I cried out "Gugg!"

But then, I shouldn't be too hard on her. It's not like she was a mindreader, though if she had indeed been able to read my mind, surely the cerebellum-freezing frenzy festering in my cranium would have caused a similar situation in her own hitherto-not-fear-encumbered gray matter.

Pretty soon the thing that squatted amidst the rafters – no doubt irritated by the sundry off-key shouts of "Gugg!" echoing through that doomed dominion of discounts – tore a little hole in the space/time continuum and shambled through, sealing the extra-dimensional opening behind him or her or it.

I suddenly realized I was late for a dentist's appointment, so I fled from that malevolent mall of morbidity, never to return that afternoon.

But I did come back the next day because I still needed to buy dental floss, and only then did the ultimate in mind-shredding unpleasantness seize my soul in its scaly, feces-flecked talons of extradimensional calamity.

Now ... now you shall know the nature of the nightmare experience which deflated the delicate souffle of mortal awareness that was once my brain. For you see, I searched that mall of madness for more than forty-five minutes, but – terror of terrors, horror of horrors! – I could not find the nice waxed-string type I really like. So I had to get that weird flat-tape kind that sometimes cuts my gums!


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For more Lovecraftian weirdness, check out BEST LITTLE WITCH-HOUSE IN ARKHAM ... available as a trade paperback or a Kindle download:

http://www.amazon.com/Best-Little-Wit...


Best Little Witch-House in Arkham

Mark McLaughlin