Lovecraft's Monsters

Lovecraft's Monsters

Ellen Datlow

Language: English

Pages: 432

ISBN: 161696121X

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Prepare to meet the wicked progeny of the master of modern horror. In Lovecraft's Monsters, H. P. Lovecraft's most famous creations—Cthulhu, Shoggoths, Deep Ones, Elder Things, Yog-Sothoth, and more, appear in all their terrifying glory. Each story is a gripping new take on a classic Lovecraftian creature, and each is accompanied by a spectacular original illustration that captures the monsters' unique visage.

Contributors include such literary luminaries as Neil Gaiman, Joe R. Lansdale, Caitlín R. Kiernan, Karl Edward Wagner, Elizabeth Bear, and Nick Mamatas. The monsters are lovingly rendered in spectacular original art by World Fantasy Award–winning artist John Coulthart (The Steampunk Bible).

Legions of Lovecraft fans continue to visit his bizarre landscapes and encounter his unrelenting monsters. Now join them in their journey...if you dare.

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But Walker made them all drink right out of the rusty taps, because that was the drink his own blood was thirsting for. If anything Walker felt more at home at the Crossroads than he had anywhere in years. He’d drink the water and he’d breathe the dry desert air, taking it deep into his lungs until he found that trace of distant but unmistakable corruption he always knew to be there. He’d walk around outside barefoot at night, feeling the chill in the ground that went deeper than anyone else

seemed untroubled by Josh’s silence. Both her parents were desperate to drive up to Josh’s apartment, but feared that appearing unannounced would aggravate whatever the situation with him was. Rachel bowed to their none-too-subtle hints, and offered to do so for them. Before she could take a taxi to the other side of the city, however, one of Josh’s fellow students at SUNY Albany called her to ask if everything was okay with her brother, whom, he said, he hadn’t seen since he’d left for

profit all the more than my barbarous concubine. My potential seemed enormous.” “Yes, and look at you now, Professor,” I said. “Do these people understand what you are?” “What do you think I am, Detective?” “A Satan-worshipping dope fiend.” “Wrong. I’m a naturalist. Would that I could reinvent my innocent dread of God and Satan, of supernatural phenomena. As for these yellow folk, they don’t care what I am. I pay well for my upkeep and modest pleasures.” “For a man who’s uncovered great

profit all the more than my barbarous concubine. My potential seemed enormous.” “Yes, and look at you now, Professor,” I said. “Do these people understand what you are?” “What do you think I am, Detective?” “A Satan-worshipping dope fiend.” “Wrong. I’m a naturalist. Would that I could reinvent my innocent dread of God and Satan, of supernatural phenomena. As for these yellow folk, they don’t care what I am. I pay well for my upkeep and modest pleasures.” “For a man who’s uncovered great

up and shat out. And if you live, in twenty years you’ll be another walking Mouth.” He faded into the woodwork. I made a meticulous job of scrubbing the grime and blood from my hands. I washed my face in the ice water, hesitated at the sticky bur of my mustache and hair, finally dunked my head under. The shock brought comprehension crashing down around my ears. I remembered crossing over a threshold. Inside, the cave is larger than I’d supposed, and humid. Water gurgling in rock. Musty roots

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