“Lucky fucking cripple,” Stuart said as he eyed Johnny Hicks’s stump. Looking down at his own two healthy legs, he couldn’t help but feel he was the handicapped one.
“Morning, Mr. Alexander.” Johnny said as he passed Stuart’s office on the way to the firm’s law library.
“Morning,” Stuart grumbled through clenched teeth. Johnny was a good fellow and Stuart knew what he felt was wrong, but handicapped people had it so easy in life. For a cripple, it’s enough just to live a normal life.
“Congratulations, boys and ghouls,” Lady Nocturna said, crossing her legs in a whisper of fishnets. “You’ve lived through another night of fright. Tune in next week for a double-trouble Wilfred Ghostman creature feature Friday. Immacula the Vampire Nun followed by Wasp People, both starring yours truly. Right here on Channel 12, Trinity Bay’s one and only. Join me for the fun … if you dare!”
Hey, this is Sean Hoade, the “new meat” at Shoggoth.net. I will consider all Weird stories or novellas produced in my workshop for these very pages. (Of course, I will also consider Weird stuff not created in my workshop.) Have a look:
Friends and aspiring writers: You might be interested in a graduate-level-style fiction workshop taught by Yours Truly, just like the workshops I held at the University. It will run 13 weeks, and people would bring in a story for the class three times to be critiqued. You could do different stories or chapters from a WIP novel or novella.
“A cigarette holder and a Martini do not make the neurasthenic man,” Les Esseintes was saying, flicking an ash and taking a sip. “Nor do the tuxedo or the moustache.”
“No, the true decadent is on the inside,” Miss Satin added with a smirk. Then she sipped her own Martini to punctuate her sentence. “Of course, it’s easier for a billionaire to get away with having both.”
Soon we shall plunge into the cold darkness;
Farewell, vivid brightness of our short-lived summers!
― Charles Baudelaire, “Autumn Song”
Baudelaire.
It is 1859. Where has his strength gone? His arms are like brooms held at arms’ length to disturb a hornets’ nest, only his are joined at his shoulders. Numb, barely under his control. It is l’automne now, the time of dying, when the hornets die off or disappear to hide with their Queen. Baudelaire’s deadened broomstick arms serve no purpose now except to take the louched glass of absinthe once the sugar lump has been dissolved by dripping ice water.
So this weekend, I went to the infamous CthulhuCon: Portland and took several pictures with, from what I can ascertain from reviewing the photos, a low-definition potato. Continue reading
Factual data exists only to make role playing more cool and immersive:
http://www.dollartimes.com/calculators/inflation.htm
I just found this: http://www.vintageadbrowser.com/
Chaosium’s “Secrets of” series of sourcebooks give Keepers an opportunity to expand their games outside of Lovecraft Country and into other locales around the world. Sometimes these places are closer to home, such as with Secrets of New York, and sometimes they are in exotic locations, such as in Secrets of Kenya. The newest “Secrets of” sourcebook, Secrets of Tibet, takes Keepers and players on a journey to dark and mysterious Tibet. Continue reading
This is not my creation, I found it on the Internet. I have cleaned it a bit for grammar and punctuation and made a few other changes. It is largely as I found it. Continue reading
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