The Whisperer in Darkness by H.P. Lovecraft
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
It was in my daily search of the internet for meaningless things, many of which connect unerringly to even more meaningless things – that is to say additional meaningless things rather than things that have even less meaning (although that too is potentially an outcome) that I happened across this short tome of bush-beating horror. Having read previous Lovecraftian lore, and realizing that this should be a somewhat simple endeavor, being only slightly over sixteen thousand words, I began to read. The tale of creeptastical fantasy and lore ever so slowly unwound with the typical style.
Herewith is an example of said style.
The story of which you are about to read is a scary one in which horrendously putridienous things occur. You will no doubt find them difficult to believe. If I had not been witness to them myself, I would hardly believe them either, but I assure you they are completely true; although I no longer have any evidence of their veracity, and find myself on the verge of insanity from just trying to get started telling you this story in a very long and meandering sentence. But first, you must look at this bush. It may seem to be an ordinary bush, and quite possibly it is, but it might not be, so pay close attention while I beat around its edges to make sure. I assure you that by doing so, I will extend the anticipation and sense of impending doom to a level that makes the really bad scary thing seem that much more so in the end.
End style sample:
And there you have it. Lovecraftian horror at it’s core.
Oh, the story was pretty good. The narrator was an idiot who couldn’t resist the lure of the fantastical and almost ended up in a bad way. It’s not that long, so if you like Lovecraft, go read it. It’s free.