Archive for CthulhuNow

The Conductor

The graffiti was unlike any he had ever seen. Though just chicken scratches, it stood out from all the rest and as he stared, words began to become visible, and then a pattern developed; like one of those magic eye posters at the mall he’d seen as a child. He’d stare at the pixelated bits of nonsensical color, only to be surprised when an image of a sailboat would appear. 

He forced his mind to focus, remembering that to see the hidden image you had to do the opposite of stare at the picture. Instead, you had to zone out, and let your eyes rest. It was easy to do in his almost double-vision drunken and loaded state. 

Slowly, letters manifested, and then a full sentence. 

He is rising. 

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The Waiter at the Altar

originally published American Atheist Magazine 1998

For nearly five years I have brooded a ghastly and horrifying secret. A secret so dark and blasphemous, it blurs the edges of my consciousness and tinges my every thought with stark blue terror. When I sleep, it haunts my being and stains my nightmares the dripping, blood red of madness. And now it seems my unwholesome labors have brought forth a dreadful and appalling issue.

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Nine Panes of Glass

At first a bothersome thing, the bug noise became a lulling rhythm of nature for Pike Ansblath.
He accepted the ruffled whistle as part of summer.
One night, while lying on the couch, Pike tried to pin down what the noise sounded like.
It was, he determined, basically a whistle … with a little ripple effect.
A neighbor who overheard it one day likened the sound to a muted chirp.
Yeah, he could see that. Continue reading »

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Sanctity of the Obscene

I never should have let Jesus in. When you allow something in, you risk infection.
“And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; if he does, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost, and so are the skins; but new wine is for fresh skins.”
Once I let Jesus into my heart he wouldn’t stop talking in my head: parable after lesson after reproachment, repeat, and all in a surprisingly brusque voice. My childhood memories are infected with it since first communion. The shockingly mocking voice. The voice was the first warning of a danger that I was too young to heed. The second sign of danger was the vision I received, not from God divine but a hateful god infernal—the threat of interdimensional demons borne of horror so old and unnamable that the Lord Himself is inaudible, replaced with a chaotic choir of cosmic dread in a thousand R’lyehian moans.
“Ya stell’bsna chtenff hupdgh n’ghft!” Continue reading »

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Not the End of the World

David Hambling is the author of two Mythos novellas, “The Elder Ice” and “Broken Meats” (available on Amazon), and a new collection from PS Publishing “The Dulwich Horror and others.”

“The time would be easy to know, for then mankind would have become as the Great Old Ones… the liberated Old Ones would teach them new ways to shout and kill and revel and enjoy themselves, and all the earth would flame with a holocaust of ecstasy and freedom.”
HP Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu

I visited Josh a week after his world ended, bringing him a takeaway curry and six bottles of Cobra beer.

Josh had not been diagnosed with cancer. He had not suffered a stroke, or any of the other medical emergencies that set phones ringing at three in the morning. His wife was safe and healthy, not killed in a car crash. When I say his world ended, that’s exactly what I mean.

Josh’s Armageddon ran to a timetable, and we had been through the countdown. It had started months before, when Josh began sending me emails about the coming apocalypse, cut-and-pasted web collations studded with PHRASES IN UPPER CASE about aliens and quantum physics. Continue reading »

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Off the Rails

jenkinBrown Jenkins, part six

soundtrack here:Off the Rails

“I finally got shed of the pest somewhere around Chicago. Hopped off a freight train while he was stealing a few moments’ shuteye, rolled down a grassy hill into a rocky creek, and there I was, wet, bruised, but free. Continue reading »

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Too Many Jenkinses

jenkinToo Many Jenkinses (Brown Jenkins, part five)

soundtrack here
The place was a mess. The walls were covered in geometric designs, like an OCD-laden Pollock had been at work. Blue light streamed from the skylight, and there was a green mist in the air.
Worst of all, Brown Jenkin was still there, gnawing on a hambone.
“What the living fuck?” Shouted Nat. “What’s going on here?”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” said Jenkin around his bone. “They may be lean and athirst, but these angles will lead them astray.” Continue reading »

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Double X

Brown Jenkins part four

soundtrack here



Nat had to think fast. But necessity is the mother of invention, they say, and he invented something.
“I’m going back,” he said. “I’m gonna turn it all back around.”
He ran back down the block and got his car. His guitar was already in the back seat.
The biggest question was—how would he spend the time?
He needed somewhere to hole up for about eight hours, until nightfall, where Mazurewicz and Keziah Mason and above all Brown fucking Jenkin wouldn’t find him, if they chose to follow.

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Bad Vibes

Brown Jenkins part three

by Duane Pesice

soundtrack here Continue reading »

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The Devil With My Face

Brown Jenkin by John Donald CarlucciBrown Jenkins is intended to be a serial, with each episode accompanied by music to be played while the story is read.

Each episode will consist of a short story or vignette in tune with the major theme. The episodes will post every Sunday night until the tale is complete.

Once all is said and done, a book/cd package will be put together,with a few extra goodies. The cover will feature the artwork at left, by John Donald Carlucci.

Ready? Here we go—

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