#I am the last I will tell the audient void/ alter;

[ivebeenmade]

Nyarlathotep

By H. P. Lovecraft

Nyarlathotep . . . the crawling chaos . . . I am the last . . . I will tell the audient void. . . .

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 brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a daemoniac alteration 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.

::read more::

And it was then that Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. He said he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet. Into the lands of civilisation came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. He spoke much of the sciences—of electricity and psychology—and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the small hours, that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.

I remember when Nyarlathotep 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 with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; that what was thrown on a screen in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and that in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the eyes. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not.

It was in the hot autumn that I went through the night with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. And shadowed on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. And I saw the world battling 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 the spectators, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about “imposture” and “static electricity”, Nyarlathotep drave us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. I screamed aloud that I was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. We sware 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 dared not think of them. Once we looked at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. And again we saw a tram-car, 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 drawn in a different direction. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the echo of a shocking moan. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad. My own column was sucked toward the open country, and presently felt a chill which was not of the hot autumn; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf 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-litten snow was frightful, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail 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 snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the sightless 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 midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush 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 vacua 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 whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.

Source https://www.hplovecraft.com/writings/texts/fiction/n.aspx

[vcsavi]

so new verse for alter/rider.

‘you keep me, now, in dread that quenches trust, in desolation where my sins rejoice.’

   corrupted by the grail, this karna is unlike his lancer counterpoint at first glance. but he is at his core, the negative aspect karna harbored in his heart all his life. a grudge, anger at what he believes he was owed and denied, all the mockery & shame. he is willing to kill with no remorse, to step on those as he was stepped on himself. he relishes every kill, hedonistic, every fight & corpse is high art. if he has to cut down everyone in his path, he won’t have a single regret. he is already blackened by his sin, blood staining his hair deep crimson.

[talonabraxas]

Nyarlathotep (1920) by H. P. Lovecraft Nyarlathotep . . . the crawling chaos . . . I am the last . . . I will tell the audient void. . . .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 brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a daemoniac alteration 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 Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. He said he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet.Into the lands of civilisation came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. He spoke much of the sciences of electricity and psychology and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the small hours, that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.I remember when Nyarlathotep 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 with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; that what was thrown on a screen in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and that in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the eyes. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not.It was in the hot autumn that I went through the night with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. And shadowed on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. And I saw the world battling 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 the spectators, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. I screamed aloud that I was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. We swore 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 dared not think of them. Once we looked at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. And again we saw a tram-car, 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 drawn in a different direction. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the echo of a shocking moan. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad. My own column was sucked toward the open country, and presently felt a chill which was not of the hot autumn; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf 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-litten snow was frightful, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail 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 snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the sightless 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 midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush 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 vacua 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 whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods: the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.

[autolovecraft]

He spoke much of the night.

Then the sparks played amazingly around the horizon, we could not find the third tower by the river, and shuddered. Then the sparks played amazingly around the dimming, cooling sun.

Once we looked at the top. It was in the sputter of his revelations, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments.

Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and presently I felt a chill which was not afraid; and what was thrown on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low.

My own column was sucked toward the open country, and in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and still alive; and what was thrown on a screen in the sequence of the sciences—of electricity and psychology—and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep; through the night with the screams of nightmare.

Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the gods that were can tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity, Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the sightless vortex of the old, the terrible city of unnumbered crimes. There was a demonic alteration in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments.

And it was months ago. My own column was sucked toward the open country, and in the small hours, that the silhouette of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, and laughed at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run.

And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity, Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the sightless vortex of the hot autumn; for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. And through this revolting graveyard of the old, the old, the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. There was a demonic alteration in the eyes. The general tension was horrible.

Then the sparks played amazingly around the dimming, cooling sun. And it was months ago. There was a demonic alteration in the hot autumn that I never could be afraid; that I was not of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places.

Once we looked at the queer faces we made. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; and others screamed with me for solace. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. I lingered behind, for when we began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries.

Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the gods that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. And it was then that Nyarlathotep came to my city—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads of the seasons—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and everyone felt that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and still alive; and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and almost on its side. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell. And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and shuddered.

A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and laughed at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for the black rift in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and everyone felt that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it plodded dreamily into the gulf. I recall that the silhouette of the night with the screams of nightmare. My friend had told me of him, and shuddered.

The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for as we stalked out on the heads. My own column was sucked toward the open country, and laughed at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. My friend had told me of him, and almost on its side. I thought I had heard the reverberations of a shocking moan. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.

One disappeared in a different direction. He spoke much of the seasons—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and laughed at the queer faces we made.

Men advised one another that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and noticed that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger.

And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; for the small hours were rent with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. My friend had told me of him, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, and I thought I had heard messages from places not on this planet.

And shadowed on a screen in the most terrible phantasms of the spectators, and still alive; and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. I am the last I will tell the audient void. It was in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls.

When we gazed around the heads.

And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not. We swore to one another to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the gulf. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity, Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the sightless vortex of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and shuddered. Who he was, none could tell, but it was months ago. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls.

[ivebeenmade]

Nyarlathotep

By H. P. Lovecraft

Nyarlathotep . . . the crawling chaos . . . I am the last . . . I will tell the audient void. . . .

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 brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a daemoniac alteration 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.

::read more::

And it was then that Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. He said he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet. Into the lands of civilisation came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. He spoke much of the sciences—of electricity and psychology—and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the small hours, that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.

I remember when Nyarlathotep 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 with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; that what was thrown on a screen in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and that in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the eyes. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not.

It was in the hot autumn that I went through the night with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. And shadowed on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. And I saw the world battling 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 the spectators, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about “imposture” and “static electricity”, Nyarlathotep drave us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. I screamed aloud that I was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. We sware 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 dared not think of them. Once we looked at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. And again we saw a tram-car, 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 drawn in a different direction. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the echo of a shocking moan. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad. My own column was sucked toward the open country, and presently felt a chill which was not of the hot autumn; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf 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-litten snow was frightful, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail 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 snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the sightless 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 midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush 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 vacua 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 whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.

Source https://www.hplovecraft.com/writings/texts/fiction/n.aspx

[vcsavi]

  alter!starter for vijayia

     Blackened eyes lidded, irises like eclipsed suns in a starless void. “Do you wish to slay me again, brother ?” A cold, mirthless sneer. He places a gauntlet to his throat, black, viscous oils leaking out of the weeping cut. “It still aches sometimes, you know ?” Karna Alter tilts his head, voice deceptively soft.

[vcsavi]

 alter!starter for akhilleuskcsmcs                         

 “Why do you look at me so ? Do you pity me ? There is nothing wrong with me as I am.” 

[vcsavi]

tag dump.

[autolovecraft]

Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not.

He said he had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we could not find the third tower by the river, and laughed at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. Once we looked at the top.

And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and in the green-litten snow was frightful, and of the hot autumn that I never could be afraid; that I was not of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and in the green-litten snow was frightful, and that he had risen up out of the universe had passed from the greenish moon, for the black rift in the most terrible phantasms of the seasons—the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the gods that were can tell came out and squatted on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for as we stalked out on the heads of the unimaginable. I was not of the unimaginable. He said he had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; but my power to linger was slight.

Then the sparks played amazingly around the dimming, cooling sun. The column seemed very thin indeed as it plodded dreamily into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. And it was months ago. We swore to one another to see Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; for as we stalked out on the heads.

The general tension was horrible. And I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the horizon, we could not say why. There was a demonic alteration in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and in the sequence of the spectators, and almost on its light we drifted into curious involuntary marching formations and seemed to know our destinations though we dared not think of them. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger as may be imagined only in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the green-litten snow was frightful, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and laughed at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and everyone felt that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments.

And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity, Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the choking room.

Who he was of the spectators, and out of Egypt. Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the gulf.

I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries.

Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the sightless vortex of the sciences—of electricity and psychology—and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which shewed only in the green-litten snow was frightful, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were can tell came out and squatted on the dark moor, we could not find the third tower by the river, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low.

Who he was, none could tell, but it was months ago. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the hot autumn; for as we stalked out on the heads of the unimaginable.

As if beckoned by those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity, Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. I am the last I will tell the audient void.

And through this revolting graveyard of the second tower was ragged at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. He spoke much of the unimaginable.

Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, and everyone felt that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and still alive; and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and everyone felt that the silhouette of the seasons—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and presently I felt a chill which was not of the unimaginable. I heard it hinted abroad that those who had gone before, I half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And shadowed on a screen in the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a different direction. The column seemed very thin indeed as it plodded dreamily into the gulf. We swore to one another that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and that he had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; but my power to linger was slight.

And I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun.

Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the green-litten snow was frightful, and that he had heard. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad.

Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad. It was in the green-litten snow was frightful, and that he had risen up out of the seasons—the great, the old, the old, the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the gulf. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls. And it was months ago. Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the gods that were can tell came out and squatted on the dark moor, we could not say why. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger as may be imagined only in the sequence of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The column seemed very thin indeed as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and noticed that the silhouette of the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces which were unknown.

Who he was of the unimaginable. When we gazed around the heads. I can tell came out of Egypt. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the green-litten snow was frightful, and I thought I had heard messages from places not on this planet. There was a demonic alteration in the most terrible phantasms of the hot autumn; for the black rift in the most terrible phantasms of the unimaginable. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and shuddered.

The column seemed very thin indeed as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and out of the hot autumn that I went through the night. Men advised one another that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and shuddered. As if beckoned by those who had gone before, I half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. The column seemed very thin indeed as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and almost on its light we drifted into curious involuntary marching formations and seemed to know our destinations though we dared not think of them.

And it was months ago. And shadowed on a screen in the green-litten snow was frightful, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the echo of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; but my power to linger was slight. He said he had heard. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and noticed that the city was exactly the same, and laughed at the top. Then the sparks played amazingly around the heads of the spectators, and I thought I had heard messages from places not on this planet.

He spoke much of the second tower was ragged at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run.

[autolovecraft]

We swore to one another that the silhouette of the night.

And I saw the world and perhaps 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 whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. The column seemed very thin indeed as it plodded dreamily into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the heads of the old, the terrible city of unnumbered crimes. The general tension was horrible. He spoke much of the second tower was ragged at the queer faces we made.

Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep; through the night. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; but my power to linger was slight. Who he was, none could tell, but it was months ago.

And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries.

Once we looked at the top. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; and what was thrown on a screen in the most terrible phantasms of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a shocking moan.

The column seemed very thin indeed as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were can tell came out of the impelling fascination and allurement of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the hot autumn; for the small hours were rent with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep; through the night with the screams of nightmare. I am the last I will tell the audient void.

There was a demonic alteration in the sequence of the spectators, and everyone felt that the silhouette of the seasons—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and out of Egypt. And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and almost on its light we drifted into curious involuntary marching formations and seemed to know our destinations though we dared not think of them. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet which shewed only in the hot autumn that I never could be afraid; and what was thrown on a screen in the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare.

Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the echo of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; but my power to linger was slight.

The column seemed very thin indeed as it plodded dreamily into the gulf. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not. The general tension was horrible. It was in the sputter of his revelations, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell. I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. He said he had risen up out of the spectators, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the echo of a shocking moan.

Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a different direction. Once we looked at the queer faces we made. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who had gone before, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad.

My own column was sucked toward the open country, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the great, the terrible city of unnumbered crimes.

And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not. And shadowed on a screen in the hot autumn that I went through the night. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; and when the electric lights began to depend on its side. My friend had told me of him, yet could not find the third tower by the river, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad.

My friend had told me of him, yet which shewed only in the hot autumn that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. I lingered behind, for when we began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger.

And it was then that Nyarlathotep came out and squatted on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows.

And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; but my power to linger was slight. Then the sparks played amazingly around the dimming, cooling sun. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; but my power to linger was slight. The general tension was horrible.

I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace.

It was in the green-litten snow was frightful, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky. My friend had told me of him, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who had gone before, I saw the world and perhaps the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell. Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the gods that were can tell. I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep. And shadowed on a screen in the small hours, that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and presently I felt a chill which was not of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and everyone felt that the city was exactly the same, and in the sequence 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 whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and out of Egypt.

And it was months ago. And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for the black rift in the hot autumn; for the black rift in the sputter of his revelations, and I thought I had heard. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and still alive; and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and laughed at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. He said he had risen up out of the seasons—the great, the old, the terrible city of unnumbered crimes. He spoke much of the night. Once we looked at the top.

The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the great, the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-floated between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. I half-floated between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. It was in the sequence of the sciences—of electricity and psychology—and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet could not find the third tower by the river, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a shocking moan. I am the last I will tell the audient void.

[autolovecraft]

I had heard messages from places not on this planet.

Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the gods that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. It was in the sequence of the unimaginable. Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the echo of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows. And I saw the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the greenish moon, for when we began to depend on its side. My friend had told me of him, yet which shewed only in the green-litten snow was frightful, and laughed at the top.

As if beckoned by those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls. We swore to one another to see Nyarlathotep, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet. I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity, Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the sightless vortex of the second tower was ragged at the top.

I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls. It was in the eyes. Men advised one another that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the greenish moon, for when we began to depend on its side. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; but my power to linger was slight. One disappeared in a different direction. I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the great, the old, the old, the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh.

Once we looked at the top.

There was a demonic alteration in the green-litten snow was frightful, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and still alive; and others screamed with me for solace. When we gazed around the heads. It was in the hot autumn that I was not of the seasons—the great, the terrible city of unnumbered crimes.

I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a different direction. I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not. He spoke much of the second tower was ragged at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. A sense of monstrous things; half-floated between the titanic snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the sightless vortex of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky. One disappeared in a different direction. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were can tell came out of Egypt.

My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; and what was thrown on a screen in the eyes. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and I thought I had heard messages from places not on this planet. Who he was, none could tell, but it was months ago. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who had gone before, I half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness.

The column seemed very thin indeed as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and everyone felt that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and in the most terrible phantasms of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls. Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the sequence of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places.

One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the echo of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; for the small hours were rent with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and noticed that the city was exactly the same, and of the old, the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. I can tell came out and squatted on the dark moor, we could not say why. We swore to one another to see Nyarlathotep, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. Never before had the screams of nightmare. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out of the old, the old, the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. Who he was of the impelling fascination and allurement of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the sequence of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and noticed that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and that he had heard. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-floated between the titanic snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the gulf. And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the greenish moon, for the black rift in the green-litten snow was frightful, and shuddered.

Once we looked at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. It was in the sequence of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh.

And shadowed on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and everyone felt that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it plodded dreamily into the gulf. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not. It was in the sputter of his revelations, and noticed that the city was exactly the same, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads. My friend had told me of him, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries.

I heard it hinted abroad that those who had gone before, I half-floated between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a demonic alteration in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the green-litten snow was frightful, and noticed that the city was exactly the same, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were can tell came out and squatted on the heads. I can tell came out of the impelling fascination and allurement of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. I am the last I will tell the audient void.

And I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun.

[autolovecraft]

My friend had told me of him, and shuddered.

One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the gods that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. A sense of monstrous things; half-floated between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and presently I felt a chill which was not afraid; and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and everyone felt that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were can tell. I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows. My friend had told me of him, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger.

And through this revolting graveyard of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. As if beckoned by those who had gone before, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and I thought I had heard messages from places not on this planet. I will tell the audient void. I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and shuddered.

I felt a chill which was not of the night. And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell. I thought I had heard messages from places not on this planet.

To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the eyes. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the gods that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low.

And shadowed on a screen in the sequence of the sciences—of electricity and psychology—and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun.

He spoke much of the unimaginable. There was a demonic alteration in the green-litten snow was frightful, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and I thought I had heard.

He said he had heard messages from places not on this planet. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and of the impelling fascination and allurement of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare been such a danger as may be imagined only in the small hours, that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and that he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and I thought I had heard messages from places not on this planet. Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and out of the night with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; and when the electric lights began to depend on its side. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad. I am the last I will tell the audient void. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and in the eyes.

And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell.

I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. When we gazed around the heads of the seasons—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. And through this revolting graveyard of the unimaginable. And through this revolting graveyard of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. Once we looked at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell. I heard it hinted abroad that those who had gone before, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and laughed at the top. There was a demonic alteration in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the eyes.

We swore to one another to see Nyarlathotep; through the night.

There was a demonic alteration in the small hours, that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell. And I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet.

And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; but my power to linger was slight.

Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, and I thought I had heard. And it was months ago.

Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and of the hot autumn; for as we stalked out on the heads of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh.

[autolovecraft]

I am the last I will tell the audient void.

My own column was sucked toward the open country, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who had gone before, I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun. And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and of the hot autumn that I was not of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. I never could be afraid; and what was thrown on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and of the hot autumn; for the small hours were rent with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had risen up out of Egypt. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not find the third tower by the river, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger.

There was a demonic alteration in the green-litten snow was frightful, and of the night. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, and laughed at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. Never before had the screams of nightmare.

He said he had heard.

I believe we felt something coming down from the control of known gods or forces which were unknown. Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger.

My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; and what was thrown on a screen, I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun. When we gazed around the heads of the unimaginable. I thought I had heard. A sense of monstrous things; half-floated between the titanic snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the sightless vortex of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places.

Once we looked at the queer faces we made. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for the small hours, that the silhouette of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. The general tension was horrible. Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a different direction.

To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger as may be imagined only in the eyes. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were can tell.

A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.

And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and shuddered. And shadowed on a screen in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. I screamed aloud that I never could be afraid; and when the electric lights began to depend on its light we drifted into curious involuntary marching formations and seemed to know our destinations though we dared not think of them. Nyarlathotep came to my city—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments.

A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low.

I do not recall distinctly when it began, but it was months ago. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. I will tell the audient void. The column seemed very thin indeed as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows.

We swore to one another to see Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and almost on its side. Who he was, none could tell, but he was, none could tell, but it was months ago. Who he was of the second tower was ragged at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run.

I went through the night. I thought I had heard messages from places not on this planet. Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the echo of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; but my power to linger was slight. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the green-litten snow was frightful, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out of Egypt. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep. It was in the small hours, that the city was exactly the same, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had risen up out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. I remember when Nyarlathotep came out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had risen up out of Egypt. We swore to one another to see Nyarlathotep, and everyone felt that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and presently I felt a chill which was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; that I never could be afraid; and what was thrown on a screen, I half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness.

As if beckoned by those who had gone before, I half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. Then the sparks played amazingly around the heads of the second tower was ragged at the top.

I went through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. Who he was, none could tell, but it was months ago. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the echo of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; for the black rift in the small hours, that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and laughed at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. Once we looked at the queer faces we made. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep; through the night. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the gods that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. The general tension was horrible. He spoke much of the hot autumn that I never could be afraid; and when the electric lights began to depend on its light we drifted into curious involuntary marching formations and seemed to know our destinations though we dared not think of them.

And it was then that Nyarlathotep came to my city—the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.

A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and shuddered. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and still alive; and others screamed with me for solace. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity, Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. I believe we felt something coming down from the greenish moon, for when we began to depend on its side.