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July 31, 2016 - December 12, 2017
The stars would change in a most peculiar way, so that the Great Ones could come pulsing from the outer gulf. Then the beasts should give tongue, and prophesy in their anthropoglotism that man shall perish. By these signs, and other apocalyptic portents, the world would know that Nyarlathotep had returned. Soon he himself would be visible—a dark, faceless man in black, walking, staff in hand, across the desert, but leaving no track to mark his way, save that of death. For
THE HOLINESS OF AZÉDARAC,
No, it was nobody’s fault that our grandparents and great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents had come from someplace up north called Dunwich and had been named Whateley;
Zon Mezzamalech, in Mhu Thulan?
“I bring to you the greetings of the Great Ones, who in Their grace retired from before the coming of men, so that men might have an hour upon the world-stage. One day, when men have spent their childish imaginations, the Great Ones will take again what is theirs. But for the present, they are content to speak in dreams, even as I now do.
Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wqah’nagl fhatgn.
somnific
the narcotizing image.
It was a climb through Limbo, an ascent from nadir through darkness that seemed palpable and viscid.
it was like the last glimmering of hell-fire in some extinct inferno; like the drowning of nebulae in voids beneath the universe.
adumbration of terror
Evil, ancient, soporous, the night hung about them. It
Its numerous feet, beheld in this posture, were hollow and chalice-like, and they oozed with mephitic wetness.
For those unfamiliar with computer networks, let me explain that in online conversation, the normal social restraints on conversation don’t always work;
THE HUNTERS FROM BEYOND,
had a veritable appetence for such things. I wanted to do in sculpture what Poe and Lovecraft and Baudelaire have done in literature, what Rops and Goya did in pictorial art.
I staggered against the shockingly warm body of a woman. Forming those few words had exhausted her stock of speech, but she whimpered. I made to untie her, assuming she was held by a rope, but she was suspended by a hook through her ankles. She screamed when I lifted her to relieve the cruel pressure, but it was a very faint cry indeed. By the time I had extracted the hook and laid her body on the floor she was quite dead.
The Diablerie Daemonalis, the Seven Volumes of Ksar, Zegrembi’s Ahrimanes Omnipotae, the Book of K’yog
Love the book names HPL pastiche writers come up with
