![]() What began as unseen is summoned to light, what began as unfamiliar is familiarised. These stories are about ritual, but more often than not each one is a ritual in itself. The gods await their moment patiently, neither dead nor alive, just outside of Time: Cthulhu, R'lyeh, Yig, Yog-Sothoth and his Shoggoths. ![]() ![]() ![]() The landscapes unroll like metaphysical tourist destinations: Kadath in the Cold Waste, the Plateau of Leng, the Mountains of Madness. The titles roll off the tongue: "The Horror at Red Hook", "The Shadow out of Time", "The Shadow Over Innsmuth", "The Lurker on the Threshold". Their abandoned Cyclopean cities rear up out of the Antarctic ice, or hang off the Himalayan mountainsides as "curious clinging cubes and ramparts". Their monstrous servants, genetically modified from our ancestors, suck and slither in the waste spaces of Tibet. ![]() As an earnest of this the mysterious Old Ones, who "filtered" down from the stars a hundred million years ago, sleep beneath the Pacific, waiting to be woken by "mixed-blooded and mentally aberrant" worshippers. Lovecraft intended these tales to crawl with the unnameable, the meaningless horror that lies behind the world we see. ![]()
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