by Rachel Gray
Carter went on, revealing that the diary chronicled several attacks of a great, eldritch beast. Many years ago, the beast stalked the nearby town. Carter’s ancestor himself had been mauled, clawed—even stomped on a little—by the creature. And Carter’s distant relative was one of the luckier ones—several people were killed by the monster.
WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU HAVE
LEAD FEET
The first time you encounter a Mythos creature, you’re going to get scared. You can’t do anything about it. Prepare yourself now, and you might learn how to deal with it. Here are a number of common Mythos tropes which offer the greatest threat to you. In this instance, you will more often than not be the “narrator” or “hero,” as you’re the one stuck in the situation. Or, you might be the narrator’s unfortunate friend. In any case, study them, memorize them, and learn from them:
The narrator runs away.
The narrator goes insane.
The narrator runs away, but in the process of running away, witnesses something horrible, and goes insane.
The narrator discovers an unimaginable horror, and his friend goes insane.
An unimaginable horror discovers the narrator, but the nearby friend attempts to fend off the monstrosity. In the process, the friend dies, and the narrator barely escapes alive.
The narrator’s friend asks for assistance in an investigation, but it is the narrator who becomes obsessed with the research and eventually ends up in an asylum.
The narrator offers the reader a story that seems unbelievable. During the recounting of the tale, few details are offered about what is occurring, but the reader is re-assured that everything is terribly frightful. In the end, the reader learns the narrator has killed himself, or is institutionalized. So maybe the story was true. Maybe not. Things are up in the air.
The main character, which is often the narrator, decides to undertake some crazy task. His good friend seems dubious, and as events unfold, the friend realizes that the hero/narrator has truly lost it, and in an attempt of self preservation, flees.
After the hero/narrator researches his family history, his life becomes a shambles. Try as he might, whatever haunted his ancestors, now haunts him. The hero/narrator calls upon a friend, who usually ends up exploring some dreadfully dangerous location, after which the friend is dead. Thinking all has been set right, the narrator returns to his daily routine, only to learn that the ancient ancestral horror is still present. All that remains for the hero/narrator is insanity or death. Sometmes both.
Knowing better, the narrator ventures off into some eldritch location, exploring and hoping to learn some mystery about the universe. The exploration is a success, but the narrator dies of fright just as he finishes penning his account of the entire event.
Overall, being prepared will help prevent having “lead feet” at critical moments. If you’re able to predict how events might unfold, you’re already one or more steps ahead of the danger.
But it didn’t stop at that. There were also tales of a curious young boy who decided to visit the house where the monster supposedly hung out, in the attic. No one knew what the boy found, for he returned from the house screaming mad.
None of this convinced Manton. At least not entirely. But he was intrigued enough to want to visit the house for himself—certainly he felt safe with a close friend such as Carter nearby.
Delighted at Manton’s interest, Carter cleverly, and extravagantly, revealed that the house in question was the spooky abandoned place right next to them.
As if on cue, a great rustling and crashing sounded from the attic. A tremendous creature swooped from the house, attacking Carter and Manton. The beast must have been in a particularly pleasant mood—both men survived. They awoke later to find themselves in the hospital, Manton raving about a slimy creature with a “thousand shapes of horror.” The only word he could find to accurately describe the monster was “unnamable.”
All of this ended Manton’s career of literary criticism. Meanwhile, it spurred Carter upward to even more uncanny adventures.
MYTHOS SURVIVAL TIP:
KEEP OUT!
Randolph Carter’s expeditions to the cemetery were completely unnecessary, and fraught with peril. If you can avoid it, don’t hang out in cemeteries, or around spooky, abandoned houses.
WHY BUY A NEW MATTRESS WHEN YOU CAN HAVE A COZY TOMB
While it’s best to stay out of cemeteries whenever possible, sometimes you just can’t help yourself. Lovecraft’s story “The Tomb” describes the unfortunate adventures of Jervas Dudley, a young man compelled to frolic about in crypts and cemeteries.
Jervas had always been a bit strange—a self-confessed day-dreamer and something of a loner. At a young age, Jervas stumbled across the tomb of the Hyde family. The Hydes lived in their giant mansion on top of the hill, until their mansion inconveniently burned down. Instead of rebuilding, the family decided to return to their native land. Still, it was a shame to put a perfectly good cemetery to waste, so whenever a loved one passed away, they’d ship an ash-filled urn back to the United States.
I LIKE MY HORROR WITH A
DASH OF SUBLIME
All right, maybe the first time you encountered the explanation of Lovecraft and the sublime you didn’t get it. As a result, maybe you shrugged it off as one of those things that wasn’t really important. Well, it is that important, so here is another approach to understanding Lovecraft and the sublime:
Perhaps you’ve noticed by now that may of the creatures in Lovecraft’s fiction are never described directly. Lovecraft’s fiction illustrates the notion of sublime horror—the idea that the terrible monster not seen, lurking forever beyond the next door, is far worse than any monster you ever could see.
You know, like that horror movie you just watched recently. A man is running down the hall, terrified. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, eyes wide with a panic. Trying to escape . . . something. The something lurking right behind him. A something so awful, it can’t be revealed yet, because your mind will implode upon the sight of it.
He reaches a door, but it’s locked. Nowhere to go.
The man turns around slowly, to face his monstrous nemesis, back pressed against the door. Close-up of the horrified man’s face. He’s screaming. Eyes bulging, filled with terror. The something looms closer, is nearly upon him.
Pan out to reveal the terrible monster . . .. The most horrifying monster imaginable . . ..
. . . and there, in front of the guy, is a “zombie” in a cheap rubber mask. Fake blood is plastered to his face, and splattered over his shabby, alternative grunge outfit. He waves his arms about, grunting “Uhhhh” sounds. Suddenly, it’s not so scary.
In Lovecraft’s fiction, it’s clear he believes less is better—what we imagine will always be worse than the reality.
As children are often attracted to the very thing they shouldn’t be, young Jervas developed an unhealthy obsession with the new-found tomb—he would often travel to visit it; once he even attempted to break into it, and to make matters worse, he occasionally slept next to it. It seems Jervas was in dire need of other friends. Or any living friend for that matter.
Unfortunately, his tomb-fancy turned out not to be some passing fad. As Jervas grew older, his interest in the creepy crypt increased. And one day, upon waking from a nice, comfy nap next to his favorite hangout, Jervas was certain he’d heard voices, and saw a light inside the tomb, which had been quickly extinguished.
INTO THE TOMB
One day Jervas discovered a key to the tomb. It was, in fact, hidden in his own attic. Joy overcame him, so he didn’t ask the obvious question about why the key was in his attic. Instead, he was filled with electric elation—as the best part of a tomb is really the inside.
Without a second thought, he rushed to the crypt, eager to cavort about the dank interior to his heart’s content. Sure enough, the key turned in the rusty lock. And soon, Jervas spent every evening romping through the inside of the tomb, exploring its depth
s, sleeping inside it, and just generally hanging out. Really, when one is young, what else is there to do?
However, it was only a matter of time before Jervas suffered from the inevitable change in personality and demeanor that comes to most in the Cthulhu Mythos. His diction changed. So did his knowledge and interests. He spooked people in town by relating stories he shouldn’t know anything about. And he developed an extreme, irrational fear of both fire and thunderstorms.
Not surprisingly, his parents grew concerned. They enlisted friends to clandestinely spy upon Jervas. One morning, Jervas was spotted emerging from his tomb-bedroom. Jervas detected the spy watching him from the bushes, but he breathed a sigh of relief when the spy reported to his parents that the youth spent his nights sleeping next to the tomb, and not inside of it.
POSESSION IS NINE-TENTHS OF THE LAW
Although the family found his behavior a little weird, they decided not to curtail his visits to the tomb—it kept him out of trouble . . . mostly. But to all good things there comes an end. One evening while walking back to the tomb, Jervas discovered the once burned-down mansion was now intact—seemingly rebuilt. He wandered into the house and discovered a party in full swing.
But before he could join in the festivities, a crash of lightning speared the mansion, sending flames shooting into the air. Guests ran for exits, screaming. Jervas followed their example, but he wasn’t fast enough. Embraced by the flames, he wailed as his flesh burned.
And as the last thoughts were passing through his head, he found himself put off by the fact that he would not be buried in the family tomb. He was a Hyde. And furthermore, being burned to a crisp inside his family mansion destroyed his ability to sleep eternally inside the tomb. sure, maybe Jervas wasn’t thinking clearly. But then again, he was being roasted alive.
After the tumult faded, neighbors and Jervas’s father discovered the young man squirming and screaming at the long-incinerated site of the Hyde mansion. Jervas demanded to be buried in the tomb of his ancestors. Nearby, a box, uncovered when lightning struck a spot of rubble, deepened the mystery. Inside, neighbors discovered a porcelain miniature of a young man who was the spitting image of Jervas Dudley. The box sported the initials “J.H.”
Jervas revealed he entered the tomb every night, sleeping in it. But his father sadly shook his head, explaining the tomb’s padlock remained in place. It appeared the crazy Jervas, who now fancied himself to be a member of the Hyde family, had only been visiting the tomb in his dreams.
As to be expected, the young man was carted away to the asylum. After a bit of coaxing, Jervas convinced his assistant, Hiram, to check out the tomb. Hiram did as much, and reported back to his insane friend, reenforcing Jervas’ suspicions. For inside the tomb, an empty coffin awaited him, bearing the name “Jervas.” And from that moment, Jervas knew that one day, his wish would be fulfilled. He’d resume his rightful place in the tomb of his ancestors.
A LITTLE GRAVE-ROBBING NEVER HURT ANYONE
No matter what your friends and peculiar relatives tell you, grave robbing is never a good idea. Think about how many stories and films you’ve read or seen. How many times do things turn out well for the grave robbers? Sure, they might survive—well, some of them might survive—but there is always a great cost. This alone should steer you away from grave robbing. But some people are determined, regardless of the consequences. In Lovecraft’s story, “The Hound,” one English fellow, along with his companion St. John, discovered this the hard way. The two men had developed a nasty habit of looting local cemeteries. They even set up a macabre museum in their basement. In addition to standard tomb loot, the displays overflowed with disgusting souvenirs from their night-time cemetery visits—skulls, preserved heads, mummies. These two were just begging for trouble to find them.
Eventually, the two men traveled to Holland, hearing rumors of a ghoul buried in a churchyard. This particular ghoul also happened to be a grave-robber—when he was alive. Five hundred years prior, the ghoul allegedly nabbed a powerful item from a sephulcer. The two men concluded it must have been buried with the ghoul (one can only wonder why they believed such a thing; after all, Holland has a few grave-robbers as well).
MYTHOS SURVIVAL TIP:
SLEEP ELSEWHERE
If you ever find yourself compelled to perform strange acts, or do socially unacceptable things (such as sleeping inside a tomb), consider whether or not you may be possessed. Possession is sometimes a gradual thing. You may start feeling strange urges, or compulsions. In most cases, you won’t even realize these new thoughts are not your own—as you are possessed.
Don’t consider professional help. More likely than not, a psychiatrist will toss you in the loony bin. An exorcist may help, but it really depends on the type of possession.
In general, the best option is to remain wary of unfamiliar thoughts and behaviors. Learn to suppress such thoughts, through sheer will. For example, if you find yourself overwhelmed with the desire to sleep in a tomb, force yourself to sleep in your own bed. Buy one of those new-fangled adjustable air mattresses—they’re supposed to be quite comfy. Find friends, any friends, and reveal to them your desires. If they think tomb-napping sounds fun, then find new friends. At some point, someone is going to mock you—and really, the mocking can help suppress the compulsive urges. Of course, there is a risk to this. It might be that you later seek revenge upon those who’ve mocked you, but that’s another story.
Digging up the alleged ghoul’s grave, the two men found the corpse. Amazingly it was intact, despite five hundred years of resting beneath the ground. On closer examination, the body appeared to have been mauled by an animal. But what really caught the grave-robbers’ eyes was the exquisite green jade amulet inside the coffin, depicting a winged hound (this is when the first internal alarm should sound for most people).
Not giving it a second thought, they absconded the item, and returned to England with their newfound treasure. But after a few days at home in their manor house the morbid pair suspected they had uninvited company. They heard strange fumblings echoing inside the house. Knocks at the door at late hours of the night. A shrill cackling. Chatter, in a language that sounded like Dutch. And often, the eerie sound of a hound, baying in the distance.
And then things turned bad. One night, as St. John headed home from the railway station, a creature descended upon him, shredding poor St. John into pieces. With his last, croaking whisper, he blamed the cursed amulet. His friend, fearing a similar if not worse fate—as he was a friend, after all—decided it was time to leave town. Furthermore, to insure his safety, he was determined to return the jade trinket to its burial place. He hurriedly journeyed to Holland, but he made the unfortunate mistake of leaving the amulet unattended, in his Rotterdam hotel.
MYTHOS SURVIVAL TIP:
GUARD YOUR ITEMS
Sometimes a book or a trinket comes with a powerful curse. Naturally, you’ll want to rid yourself of the supernatural punishment that accompanies ownership of such an item. Most likely, in a moment of greed or blind ignorance, you picked-up the item, thinking you’d be wealthy, and instead your backlog of close friends started dying—assuming you’ve prepared your friends properly.
This means you’ll most likely find yourself wishing to rid yourself of the accursed thing. Returning it to its owner or resting place is always a good start. But regardless of how you remove the curse, it is essential to keep close track of what has become of the most important item in your life—your fate rests with it. This requires you to keep the item locked away until it is safely returned to its proper place. And like most powerful Mythos items, it attracts other greedy or blindly ignorant people (think of how it was acquired in the first place). The absolute worst option is leaving it in plain sight, in your hotel room, just before you are about to return it. Be assured if this happens, it will vanish. This is because curses, like most stage plays, enjoy irony. Keep it safe, keep it hidden.
Unexpectedly, a gang of thieves looted the Englishman
’s room, taking with them the amulet. But this time, the joke was on them. The following day, the paper reported a den of thieves was attacked by a strange creature, and everyone was torn to shreds. Witnesses spoke of hearing the baying of a hound.
Desperately, the Englishman returned to the gravesite, exhuming the ghoulish creature (possibly to ask for advice). But he recoiled in horror when he saw jade amulet, clasped within the ghoul’s gnarled and decomposing hand. Clearly, returning the amulet would not allow him to escape his fate. He, too, would be ripped to shreds by the eldritch hound, which now reminded him of his eventual death, baying incessantly in the distance.
Not Dead,
But
Dreaming
Three times Randolph Carter dreamed of the marvelous city, and three times was he snatched away while still he paused on the high terrace above it. All golden and lovely it blazed in the sunset, with walls, temples, colonnades and arched bridges of veined marble, silver-basined fountains of prismatic spray in broad squares and perfumed gardens, and wide streets marching between delicate trees and blossom-laden urns and ivory statues in gleaming rows; while on steep northward slopes climbed tiers of red roofs and old peaked gables harbouring little lanes of grassy cobbles.
