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An Evening of Chthulhu

This is but a sample of this story.  The complete version is available in my print collection Man Against the Future.  From there, you can order signed copies, or buy it for the Kindle or the Nook.

My name is Phillip Quillan and I used to be a police officer in my day and, as they say, every dog has one. Before we continue further, a few things should be noted. First, for the fact that you are reading this means that I have passed on for reasons that will most likely forever remain my own. I have requested that this be published posthumously. Secondly, no matter how ludicrous or completely untrue any of this sounds, take heart that it is the absolute truth. Finally, whenever possible, I’ve corroborated the facts and incidents with the diaries and the enumerating parties involved in this eerie situation.

We begin on August 1st, 1949 in the diary of Elizabeth Shumway:

I saw “it” today. I don’t know what “it” was, but it was absolutely horrid. I’m not sure how my sanity was kept after this, this thing, came after me. It stood about two and a half meters tall and had deep red eyes. He was drooling, I think, and that translucent goo covering…dripping from his teeth was all that was visible. But in the dark of the alley it was in, I could hardly even make that out. Dear God, I beg of you, rid the world of this beast or I will die trying to do it myself. Why anyone would create such a horrid thing, I don’t know I have to know why. Even thinking of it makes me nauseous.

This is but a sample of this story.  The complete version is available in my print collection Man Against the Future.  From there, you can order signed copies, or buy it for the Kindle or the Nook.

Comments

Derek said…
If you like to share stories, you should check out www.StoryPassers.com. You can join in and help make the story come to life, by adding your part of the ongoing story. Or you can start your own story. It's really fun!
Kelly said…
Excellent story. Thanks for posting, and keep up the good work.
Thystle_Blum said…
Are you absolutely certain that you wrote this. The language, style, and prose are dramatically different from the story about the raft. In fact, the only thing that seems to tie the two stories together is the use of the webster verbiage. Don't get me wrong. It's a good story. Well carried through. A bit Lovecraftesque for me, but I still think that you have a knack for turning a phrase.
Bryan said…
I'm not sure it was written by the same author in a manner of speaking. I found this in a notebook from high school in my handwriting.

I wrote it. But the "me" that wrote it is long dead.

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