“The Earth’s Last Hope“ – A Lovecraftian Drabble

Hope, earth’s last human, had lived a solitary existence, though she was barely a creature that anyone previously living would have recognised as such.

A thousand millennia of sunspot activity had melted the poles, scorched the grasses and boiled the oceans of an ozone depleted planet.

Culture, society and civilization were concepts forgotten eons before, as successive progenies struggled merely to survive.

Hope had never ventured this deep underground before, but her daily quest for water was unremitting.

Sadly, disadvantaged by ignorance, she was incapable of attaching any significance to the tiny click of an epoch old boobytrap she disturbed.

“A Beautiful Untruth“ – A Lovecraftian Drabble

As I sit here composing this carefully worded condolence telegram, I find that my vocabulary falls far short of what is required.

What believable lie exists when, because of national security, I am prevented from insinuating that which I know to be true, that he was murdered by an assassin because he idled too close to an aeon old corpse that potentially held the secret to petrifying all of humanity?

The alternative, that this unfortunate lady is now a widower because her late husband accidentally violently strangled himself while patrolling an empty museum at night.

The right words escape me.

“The Church with the Crooked Spire“ – A Lovecraftian Drabble

I doubt I’ll ever recover from this morning’s discovery.

It all started when my old neighbour developed his peculiar habit of sleepwalking down by the abandoned church on the hill.

Often, he would be heard mumbling incoherently about shining shapes and shadowy monsters, usually until passing locals intervened by sending him home.

This continued for months until last night’s tremendous thunderstorm disrupted the cities power supply.

Tragically for him this added anxiety proved fatal, as after waking I found his stiffened corpse against his window, his twisted face exhibiting such an expression of pained terror that I will never forget.

“Cosmic Astral Walkers“ – A Lovecraftian Drabble

While the feeble human minds of earth dream of space travel, other greater minds from distant galaxies have long ago given up the notion of physical travel and instead devised a method to traverse the stars through a mechanical form of astral projection.

The technique is infallible except specifying the final destination due to the necessity of flinging receiver devices across the cosmic void.

Across a multitude of planets they have successfully voyaged, and in their wake they have catalogued or destroyed a billion younger races.

Sardonically the only beings they encountered with superior mental powers were earth’s Antarctic visitors.

“The Unseen Danger“ – A Lovecraftian Drabble

The rambler shut himself off in his dark room and carefully removed the exposed film.

A compulsive desire to take photos that morning had overtaken him and now that he was home, he felt an equally strong urge to process the negatives immediately.

As he poured a measurement of fluids and began the process, he discovered he was holding his breath and sweating profusely.

Peering over the tray an impossibly alien vista began to emerge, filled with sights stranger than any hallucinate addled nightmare.

Then finally he noticed an aethereal giant hand projecting towards him and his heart ceased beating.

“Shadow of the Mind“ – A Lovecraftian Drabble

I have no idea what happened to me, though the nurse attending my bedside said that I suffered from temporary insanity.

My last clear thought was standing in my classroom, chalk in hand, the next I was lying in a bed some few years later.

The mental miasma of the intervening years is totally lost to me, save that I was sufficiently different to scare off my wife and children.

But worse than my missing past is the terrifyingly haunting pseudo memories I now dream nightly.

All I’m certain of is that I’ll never look at another pocket watch again.

“The Darkest Militia“ – A Lovecraftian Drabble

My dreams are dark and full of dread, yet I know some whose lightest muse would chill my very blood.

These stalwart soldiers keep their distance, for if the imaginations of the Monarch, Growler, Sandman and the Lasher should ever meet then it would be the end of days.

There’d be no place safe enough or far enough away to offer protection, and all that would be left would be scribbled notes in the Jokers textbook.

The Hooked Man and the Man In Pain would exchange ruefully glances while the Scottish Pharaoh would silently usher us through the pearly gates.

“Harbinger of Death“ – A Lovecraftian Drabble

Brooding intently over her mutations, she glowered with fiendish delight.

The hybrid tiger mosquito she’d been attempting to crossbreed for months had finally achieved a successful mating, the larvae of which would hatch into flying harbingers of death.

With clipboard and microscope at the ready, she turned up the heat lamp and waited.

As the first of its species escaped their chrysalis it took her a full three seconds to go from elation to wild panic, for it was miniature by any standard, and so compact it easily squeezed itself through the inadequate wire mesh of the containment box.

“It Knew Her Knock“ – A Lovecraftian Drabble

As a carefree creature of habit, my friend had always held fast onto several quaint peculiarities that set her apart from the rest of my peers, the way she tied her knots, the reverse angular tilted hat and a playful rattling of knockers being just three.

So, when I was awoken last night by her signature rapping at my door, despite the late hour I rushed downstairs to receive my friend.

Disconcertingly, once I’d opened the door, I found myself confronted by a shambling corpse draped in my friend’s attire, a ghastly parody I found both horrifying and disturbingly familiar.

“The Beast of Rock and Fire“ – A Lovecraftian Drabble

The stalwart warrior accepted the crusade for he had the finest sword arm in all the kingdom.

His quest was to slay the foul demon of rock skin sulfuric breath that dwelt high up the mountainside.

The climb was arduous with the air becoming thick and choking.

Entering a fissure, he saw through the miasmic gloom a pair of glowing eyes.  Wasting no time, he smote the eyes of the beast, causing a tricky of magma to spill from its open wound.

Triumphantly he returned to his village and received much acclaim, the proceeding lava flow he’d released, less so.