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This is a wee vignette that appeared in my book DREAMS OF LOVECRAFTIAN HORROR, publish'd in 1999 by Mythos Books. I have just completed work on a revised/expanded edition of the book, for which everything has been re-written. The following is the original previous version of the vignette. Of it, S. T. Joshi wrote, in his wonderful new book THE RISE AND FALL OF THE CTHULHU MYTHOS:
"Consider, too, the prose-poem 'Necronomicon,' which contains one of the most poignant reflexions on the psychological effects of the 'forbidden book' that any contemporary writer has produced. [He then quotes the final paragraph of the piece.] In this passage is a simultaneous conveyance of cosmic and psychological horror that Lovecraft himself only rarely achieved."
I post it here as it reminds me of your logo above, the open'd tome with ye tentacles outstretch'd toward merciless cosmic nothingness. I encourage others who like to write, or who have ever wanted to try to write, to add your own short vignettes and prose-poems concerningmythos tomes to this creative outlet. Just let your imagination soar and write something that only you can wrire, but that is rooted in Lovecraft and the Mythos. You may be surprised at what you come up with, and you have an audience of friends at this site.
NECRONOMICON
W. H. Pugmire, Esq.
They came to me in midnight rain, during the hour of my mournful madness. I had read too deeply into the book, and could not tear myself away. I don't know for how many days and nights I sat there, in the darkness of my study, gazing at the arcane alphabet with which the words had been composed. When I closed my eyes, the words were still before me. I could taste them in my mind, and my itching lips trembled to speak the words aloud.
I thought I heard the wind whisper those nameless words, from some far place outside my window. No, no -- it was not the wind, but rather my mouth that whispered the alien syllables. I whispered, looking out the huge window into black heaven, and saw the dark-winged things that flowed from celetial shadow toward me. I watched the window's glass melt at their approach. Like dripping shaggy shadows they sailed into the room, the wet flapping of their wings beating in rhythm to my frenzied whispering.
Smoothly, they drifted to me. Gently, they brushed with shapeless paws my face and hair. They leaned their ambiguous faces toward my own, listened intently to my whispered words. They brought to their amouphous mouths strange flute-like instruments. The room was filled with weird piping music. This music sounded strangely familiar, like something I had heard in recent nightmare. I opened my fearful lips and sang verses from the book in tune to the strange music that stained the silence of the room. I looked once more at the book, at the black syllables etched onto ancient parchment. I gazed for days upon these hoary pages, and when at last I blinked and raised my head I saw the dying sunset stain heaven with its supernal crimson. The final sight, reflected on mine eyes, was the blue of evening engulfed by swirling storm.
The winged creatures played more frantically their fantastic notes. I gazed at the approaching storm, saw within its hazy shadow the face of my eternal doom. It was a face composed of congeries of iridescent globes.
The book is before me. I can smell the wormy pages whereon the words are found, those signals that reach beyond the void to where the All-in-One pulses in eternal corruption. As these plucked eyes stain my palms, I hear the macabre beating of wings. I hear unthinkable voices whisper my name above the storm. Yuggoth damns my puny soul! I stagger to my feet and scream to darkness the unhallowed name. I feel shapeless paws grip under my arms and raise me upward. I limp beyond reason to that void of no return where lives no masquerade of human hope.
[This is an early piece and I'm not that pleas'd with it in my old age. I think it will be fun to write some new pieces, inspir'd by various Mythos Tomes, and see what I can do now. I shall experiment with this, scribbling some new wee things onto paper, and then posting them here for the first time anywhere. Then if I think they're okay (or if your critiques, should you write them, are not too harsh), I shall use them in some future book. I hope that some of you will shew us your own attempts at writing short tales involving Mythos Tomes. The thing to remember is to be audaciously yourself -- don't try to mimic Lovecraft. The best way that we, as writers, pay tribute to Lovecraft is to use him as inspiration in the writing of poetry and prose that is uniquely, perversely, our own.]
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