"Nyarlathotep" By H. P. Lovecraft
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Nyarlathotep, Nyarlathotep by h. p. Lovecraft, exploring the Cthulhu mythos: Nyarlathotep, what if Nyarlathotep was real?, Lovecraft, Cthulu mythos, mythology, and fiction explained
👉👉👉near latha tap the crawling chaos I am the last I will tell the audience I do not recall distinctly when it began but it was months ago the general tension was horrible to a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brute in apprehension of hideous physical danger a danger widespread and all embracing such a dangerous may only be imagined in the most terrible fantasies UM's of night I recall that people went about with pale and worried faces and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared to consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard a sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land and out of the abyss between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in the dark and lonely places there was a demon a a corporation in the sequence of the seasons the autumn heat lingered fearsomely and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces to that of gods or forces which were unknown and it was then that Neil Arthur Tet came out of Egypt who he was no one could tell but he was of old native blood and looked like a pharaoh the fella he knelt when they saw him yet could not say why he said he had risen out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet into the lands of civilizations came near latha Thep swarthy slender and sinister always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger he spoke much of Sciences of electricity and psychology and gave exhibitions of power that sent he spectators away speechless yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude men advise one another to see Niall Arthur tap and shuddered and where Niall Arthur tip went rest vanished for the small hours were rent with screams of nightmare never before had screams of nightmare been such a public problem now the wise men almost wish they could forbid sleep in the small hours that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale pitying moon as if glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges an old steeples crumbling against the sickly sky I remember when Neil Arthur Tech came to my city the great the old the terrible city of unnumbered crimes my friend had told me of him and of the impelling fascination and allurement of his revelations and I burned over eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries my friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings that ball was thrown on a screen in the darkened room prophesized things none but nila that have dared to prophesy and that in a sputter of his sparks there was taken from men which had never been taken yet which shewed only in the eyes and I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Neil Arthur tip looked on sights which others saw not and was in the hot autumn that I went through the night of the Restless crowds to see niall Arthur tap through a stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room and shadowed on a screen I saw hooded forms emits ruins and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments and I saw the wound batten against blackness against the waves of destruction from ultimate space whirling churning struggling around the dimming cooling Sun then the sparks played amazingly around the heads of spectators and hair stood up on end or shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on their heads and
Nyarlathotep, Nyarlathotep by h. p. Lovecraft, exploring the Cthulhu mythos: Nyarlathotep, what if Nyarlathotep was real?, Lovecraft, Cthulu mythos, mythology, and fiction explained
👉👉👉when I who was colder and more scientific than the rest mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity near la that have drave us all out down the dizzy stairs into the damp hot deserted midnight streets and i screamed aloud that i was not afraid that i could never be afraid and other screamed with me for solace and we swear to one another that the city was exactly the same and still alive and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again and laughed at the queer faces we made I believe we felt something coming down from the greenish moon for when we began to depend on its light we drifted into curious involuntary formations and seemed to know our destinations though we dare not think of them once we look to the pavement and found blocks loose displaced by grass with a scarce line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run and again we saw a tramcar lone windowless dilapidated and almost on its side when we gazed around the horizon we could not find the third tower by the river and noticed that the silhouette of the second tower was ragged at the top then we split up into narrow columns each of which seemed to be drawn in a different direction one disappeared into the narrow alley to the left leaving only the echo of a shocking moan another fled down a weed-choked subway entrance howling of a laughter that was mad my own column was sucked towards the open country and presently felt it sure that was not of the hot autumn for as we stalked out onto the dark Moor we beheld around us the hellish moon glitter of evil snows trackless inexplicable snow swept asunder in one direction only were lay a golf all the blacker for its glittering walls the column seemed very thin indeed as it plodded dreamily into the Gulf I lingered behind for the black rift in the green Litton's snow was frightful and I had thought I had heard the operations of a disquieting whale as my companions vanished but my power to linger was slight as if beckoned by those who had gone before I half floated between the Titanic snowed quivering and afraid into the site nurse vortex of the unimaginable screamingly sentient dumbly delirious only the gods that were can tell a sickened sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands and whirled blindly past ghastly Midnight's of rotting creation corpses of dead worlds with sores that were city's carnal winds that brushed the pallid Stars and make them flicker low beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things half-seen columns of unsanctified temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacuo above the spheres of light and darkness and through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled maddening beating of drums and thin monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable unlighted chambers beyond time the detestable pounding and piping were untied on slowly awkwardly and absurdly the gigantic tenebrous ultimate gods the blind voiceless - gargoyles whose soul is near latha tap you
Nyarlathotep, Nyarlathotep by h. p. Lovecraft, exploring the Cthulhu mythos: Nyarlathotep, what if Nyarlathotep was real?, Lovecraft, Cthulu mythos, mythology, and fiction explained
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