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The Affair that shambleth about in the night, the Evil that defieth the Elder Sign, the Herd that stand watch at the secret portal each tomb is known to have, and that thrive on that which groweth out of the tenants within -- all these Blacknesses are lesser than HE Who guardeth the Gateway; HE Who will guide the rash one beyond all the worlds into the Abyss of unnamable Devourers. For HE is 'UMR AT-TAWIL, the Most Ancient One, which the scribe rendereth as THE PROLONGED OF LIFE.

Abdul Alhazred
Necronomicon
Original Fiction
The Wind Walker Of Doom E-mail
Written by Paul Wright   
Saturday, 14 June 2008
When a dangerous occult book is stolen, two members of Irmo University go out to challange the evil forces. But, can even they manage to overcome the deadly forces?
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Walter (Pt.1?) E-mail
Written by Nathan Weisert   
Thursday, 05 June 2008
Please tell me whether or not you like this story.  If the response seems to be pretty good, it's possible that this may become the first installment in a series of short stories.
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The Fated Darkness E-mail
Written by Xaphriel Lamnia Caelsestus   
Monday, 12 May 2008

Essentially, this is a story about patriotism. And, obviously, a little snub against America getting a little over-zealous on the war path these days. Then there's also some monsters/fallen angels/dragons thrown in for good measure.

As for An Tenebrae Dubh... He's whoever you want Him to be. 

Enjoy.

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De Rerum Praeternaturalis E-mail
Written by Andrew Pernick   
Saturday, 19 May 2007
 The store had no name. In the history of the city, through its busts and booms, its highs and lows, it remained, untouched, changing only insofar as it changed hands, acquired help, let its stock grow and shrink. But it never had a name.
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The Gospels of Kadath E-mail
Written by Lauren Silver   
Friday, 22 December 2006
I don't want to know this anymore. I've sinned.

No. Not sin, not exactly. But I've gone where I shouldn't, and so here I am. These things I've unleashed upon the world, this curse, I don't know the cure. All I can say is that I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
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Sobek E-mail
Written by Andrew Slater   
Saturday, 12 May 2007
As I approached the room, I smelt death. Two years in France with the Suffolk Regiment had made that smell as instantly recognisable as that of new-mown grass; newly mown soldier. I walked slowly toward Saunders’ hotel room door hoping I was wrong, but what else could have a combination of the bright, metallic taste of blood and the rich, foetid smell of opened guts?
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Fides En Rook - A Baoht Z'uqqa-Mogg tale E-mail
Written by Leo Tarrant   
Thursday, 17 January 2008

No longer can I sleep as my dreams betray me. The smell, the taste, the touch...why are they all so real? I awake clawing at my body like a rake does to fallen leaves. The dream has repeated itself twelve nights in a row and each time the horrors grow ever more realistic. What does "Fides", "evoco", "adduco" mean? "Malus", I know it means evil. I don't know how I know, but I know it means evil.

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On the Wings of the Silver Angel E-mail
Written by Jesse   
Sunday, 23 March 2008

Alignment of the stars heralds the coming of the end of the world.

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