All posts by Sean Hoade

52! PART FIVE

Old West gambler Hank Hill screaming at the agony of billions and billions of hands of cards.

Hank doesn’t know how he knows it, but in the fifth or sixth year of shuffling and shuffling and shuffling–into insanity, if only his brain could please break down, but it ain’t doing that because he’s just mind, no brain to break no more–he knows that some Polack scientist type name of Czepiel figured out how many shuffles there really were in real-life terms.

Figured out. Or will figure out. Or will have figured. Or something.

Continue reading »
Posted in Fiction | Leave a comment

MUD MEN

Dan inhaled deeply on his High Point. Tastes sweet, like a cigarette treat! Not the most grammatical sentence in the world, but the slogan was good enough to keep the brand from collapse just after its launch in 1954, when those limey scientists told the world that smoking—a popular and perfectly legal act linked to good digestion and happy families back to the goddamn redskins—caused cancer and other fatal diseases. Fine, no more health claims, but it was undeniably a sweet-tasting smoke and who didn’t like a treat? People appreciated that, and what’s more, people liked to hear it from Bob Hope and Jackie Gleason on their Philco radios and Predicta television sets.

Continue reading »
Posted in Fiction | Leave a comment

52! Part 4

Hank screams as he is surrounded in his mind by the huge number 2,555,903,337,736,199,158,733,890,944,064,306,758,919,864,167,138,289,281,314,168.

As the seconds and minutes and hours and days pass, zip-zip-zip-zip-zip of the tabled riffle shuffle keeps time better than any clock Hank ever saw in his life. And that was good, because there is no day or night here, no sleep or waking or chowtime or … anything, really. No sky, no earth, no sun, so moon, no stars. Just the chair that didn’t hurt his ass or feel particularly comfortable; the table of smooth and shiny wood, like something out of a fancy parlor; other than there’s just whiteness, just nothing blankness without horizon or shadow or any feature at all. 

Continue reading »
Posted in Fiction | Leave a comment

52! Part 3

52! Part Three

As the seconds and minutes and hours and days pass, zip-zip-zip-zip-zip of the tabled riffle shuffle keeps time better than any clock Hank ever saw in his life. And that was good, because there is no day or night here, no sleep or waking or chowtime or … anything, really. No sky, no earth, no sun, so moon, no stars. Just the chair that didn’t hurt his ass or feel particularly comfortable; the table of smooth and shiny wood, like something out of a fancy parlor; other than there’s just whiteness, just nothing blankness without horizon or shadow or any feature at all. 

Continue reading »
Posted in Fiction | Leave a comment

52! Part 2!

white-clad apparition laughs as he torments a smaller Caucasian man on the floor.

PART TWO

“Ah, I see the issue now. I neglected to fill in the details.” Pip motions for Hank to hang on to the eerie deck rather than hand them back. “What I ask you to do is to shuffle these special cards, again and again, until you have exhausted all possible arrangements. For example, one arrangement would be new-deck order, such as how they lie right now.”

“Wrong, dummy. You just saw me shuffle … um, twice …“ Hank says, but loses the thread as he spreads the cards in his hands and sees that his shuffles either never happened or he accidentally shuffled them right back into twos through aces for each suit. “Heh, would you look at that.”

Continue reading »
Posted in Fiction | Leave a comment

52!

"Angel of Death" character talking with card sharp in old west jail cell, the angel standing while card sharp is lying or sitting on the bunk. The Card sharp character is dusty old west reprobate.

PART ONE

Deadwood Jail, South Dakota, 1877. 

A man lies upon the wooden bench that serves as a bed, running his fingers over a face he keeps shaven even after two weeks in stir. This is the card sharp “Hard Hank“ Hart—“Triple H” to his friends.

Or would be, that is, if Hank still had any. Most of the men he once called friends had preceded him to gallows just like the one being assembled rather loudly on the other side of the cell’s barred window; and the rest, to a man, had ended up shot dead for cheating … or sure looking like they were, anyhow.

Hank would know, too, since he’s the one who pulled the trigger.

Continue reading »
Posted in Fiction | Leave a comment

Las Vegas Brings You the “Weekend In Arkham” Lovecraftian Gaming Con!

All the evil Lovecraftian games!

Finally, something eldritchly cool is happening in Vegas! And it’s at the ultra-awesome Little Shop of Magic!

A Weekend in Arkham 2015

https://i0.wp.com/www.shopofmagic.com/images/EventPictures/StockPhotos/Arkham_Weekend/Arkham-Weekend-Banner.jpg?w=560

By John Coviello

It happens once a year, as the warm golden glow of autumn light fades, the pale moon grows heavy and large, and the air takes on a discomforting chill. The veil between worlds grows thin. Heathens and Cultists are rumored to visit ancient ruins to worship the Great Azathoth during this darkling season, ghouls are said to hunt for prey in misty graveyards, and the wicked descendants of the Salem witches are known to soar alongside cawing murders of crows as the cruel neon beams of the Northern Lights flicker across the vault of the sky.

A Weekend in Arkham is coming.

Our annual two-day festival of H.P. Lovecraft and tabletop gaming will take place at the brick-n-mortar Little Shop of Magic store in Las Vegas, Nevada on October 17-18! We invite you to join us in delving into the mysteries of the Ancient Ones, and confronting profound, unspeakable, Lovecraftian horrors.

This year’s celebration features plentiful opportunities to play your favorite games based on the works of H. P. Lovecraft: Elder Sign, The Doom That Came to Atlantic City, Night of the Grand Octopus, Arkham Horror, Eldritch Horror, and many more. Seating is limited in most of these events, so we recommend that you pre-register early in order to reserve your spot.

Savor playing your old favorites, learn a new Lovecraft-themed game, or even contribute to the effort by submitting your own event. You can learn more about the weekend’s events by accessing the schedule here.

We look forward to seeing you in our shop for a weekend of bone-chilling, thoroughly enjoyable horror!

 

Posted in Conventions, Gaming | Leave a comment

The Abyss Stares Back

 

Man looks into the abyss

Posted in Art | Leave a comment

Walkers

A surgical strike at your amygdala, where fear is produced.

The Stygian Walkers approach.

First hear the rumblings, the chthonic quakes that shake shelves and spires alike. Heads rush out to the street, tilting backwards to squint up through the haze—to see pinpricks burning red, outshining the obscured sun. A single spindly limb plunges through the distant mountain, shattering sand and stone and soil. The crimson eyes sway, and grow.

Bang: the alarm’s thin reverberation. Final few feet scamper down stairs to join the valley church ex tempore. A wave of birds flee shrieking overhead. The ground shudders once more, another closer step. For a moment reigns oppressive silence, broken only by the wail of an inconsolable infant in its mother’s unsteady arms. The minister, raising trembling hands to the sky, shrieks:

Not upon us, oh King! Not upon us!

The cry echoes, unnoticed.

The foot raises.

 

Posted in Stories | Leave a comment

Have you seen The King In Yellow?

kiy

 

Because James Monahan has, and The King is horrible, mesmerizing, beautiful.

Check out more of his work at Monahan Photography!

Posted in Art | Leave a comment

Copyright 1996 - 2022 Shoggoth.net,

%d bloggers like this: