: H. P. Lovecraft
: H. P. LOVECRAFT - The Ultimate Horror Collection: 60 Occult& Supernatural Mysteries in One Volume The Greatest Spine-Chilling and Blood-Curdling Stories of Terror& Macabre: The Call of Cthulhu, The White Ship, The Dunwich Horror, At The Mountains Of Madness, The Whisperer in Darkness...
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: 9788026853169
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: Horror
: English
: 555
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This carefully crafted ebook: 'H. P. LOVECRAFT - The Ultimate Horror Collection: 60 Occult& Supernatural Mysteries in One Volume' is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents. Howard Phillips Lovecraft (1890-1937) was an American author who achieved posthumous fame through his influential works of horror fiction. He is now regarded as one of the most significant 20th-century authors in his genre. Some of Lovecraft's work was inspired by his own nightmares. His interest started from his childhood days when his grandfather stirred his interest in the weird by telling him his own original tales of Gothic horror. Table of Contents: The Tomb Dagon A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson Polaris Beyond the Wall of Sleep Memory Old Bugs The Transition of Juan Romero The White Ship The Statement of Randolph Carter The Street The Terrible Old Man The Tree From Beyond The Temple Nyarlathotep The Picture in the House Facts concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family The Nameless City The Moon-Bog Ex Oblivione The Outsider The Music of Erich Zann Sweet Ermengarde Hypnos What the Moon Brings Azathoth Herbert West-Reanimator The Hound The Lurking Fear The Rats in the Walls The Unnamable The Festival The Shunned House The Horror at Red Hook He In the Vault Cool Air The Call of Cthulhu Pickman's Model The Strange High House in the Mist The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath The Colour Out of Space The Descendant The Very Old Folk History of the Necronomicon The Dunwich Horror Ibid The Whisperer in Darkness At The Mountains Of Madness The Shadow Over Innsmouth The Dreams in the Witch House The Thing On The Doorstep The Book The Evil Clergyman The Shadow Out of Time The Haunter of The Dark The Beast in the Cave The Mysterious Ship The Mystery of the Grave-yard

Dagon


I am writing this under an appreciable mental strain, since by tonight I shall be no more. Penniless, and at the end of my supply of the drug which alone makes life endurable, I can bear the torture no longer; and shall cast myself from this garret window into the squalid street below. Do not think from my slavery to morphine that I am a weakling or a degenerate. When you have read these hastily scrawled pages you may guess, though never fully realise, why it is that I must have forgetfulness or death.

It was in one of the most open and least frequented parts of the broad Pacific that the packet of which I was supercargo fell a victim to the German sea-raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of the Hun had not completely sunk to their later degradation; so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration due us as naval prisoners. So liberal, indeed, was the discipline of our captors, that five days after we were taken I managed to escape alone in a small boat with water and provisions for a good length of time.

When I finally found myself adrift and free, I had but little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing, and no island or coast-line was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun; waiting either for some passing ship, or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastnesses of unbroken blue.

The change happened whilst I slept. Its details I shall never know; for my slumber, though troubled and dream-infested, was continuous. When at last I awaked, it was to discover myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire which extended about me in monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away.

Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so prodigious and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished; for there was in the air and in the rotting soil a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was putrid with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plain. Perhaps I should not hope to convey in mere words the unutterable hideousness that can dwell in absolute silence and barren immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime; yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseating fear.

The sun was blazing down from a sky which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty; as though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat I realised that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface, exposing regions which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me, that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean, strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea-fowl to prey upon the dead things.

For several hours I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness, and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for travelling purposes in a short time. That night I slept but little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparatory to an overland journey in search of the vanished sea and possible rescue.

On the third morning I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The odour of the fish was maddening; but I was too much concerned with graver things to mind so slight an evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day I forged steadily westward, guided by a far-away hummock which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night I encamped, and on the following day still travelled toward the hummock, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first espied it. By the fourth evening I attained the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance; an intervening valley setting it out in sharper relief from the general surface. Too weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill.

I know not why my dreams were so wild that night; but ere the waning and fantastically gibbous moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon I saw