‘Foul vampire! accursed lamia! she-serpent of hell!’ thundered the abbot suddenly, as he crossed the threshold of the room, raising the aspergillus aloft. At the same moment, Nycea glided from the couch, with an unbelievable swiftness of motion, and vanished through an outer door that gave upon the forest of laurels.’ –Clark Ashton Smith (The End of the Story)
And waving in a dusky dragon light
Great moths whose wings unholy tapers char.
Red memory on memory, tier on tier, Builds up a tower, time and space to span;
Through world on world I rise, and sphere on sphere,
To star-shot gulfs of lunacy and fear— Black screaming ages never dreamed by man.’
–Robert E. Howard (Babel)
I am still alive! I am still alive!
But I am not the same
You can see the truth
Oh, immortal soul no one is to blame
Fate has played its part
In matters of the heart
— Jeffrey LeBlanc (For the Love of a Phantom)
It was the indignant grins of the liches that made him aware. Jovial secret jests as the cretins observed the pitter of dripping water from the funeral home’s roof onto his dead wife’s waxen face. In that callous moment with this crowd of sycophants, Roger almost turned maniacal. Grumbling in a rage, he saw the owner—Trampus Hock, run to wipe the water from her cheek. –Jeffrey LeBlanc (Hell’s Forge)
“You asked me to explain why I am afraid of a draught of cool air; why I shiver more than others upon entering a cold room, and seem nauseated and repelled when the chill of evening creeps through the heat of a mild autumn day. There are those who say I respond to cold as others do to a bad odour, and I am the last to deny the impression. What I will do is to relate the most horrible circumstance I ever encountered, and leave it to you to judge whether or not this forms a suitable explanation of my peculiarity.”–H. P. Lovecraft
