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[MC] (fwd) Short-Short Mythos Stories
- To: microcontes@xxxxxxxxxxxx
- Subject: [MC] (fwd) Short-Short Mythos Stories
- From: Carles Bellver <cbellver@xxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Mon, 24 Mar 1997 14:00:32 +0100 (MET)
- Reply-to: microcontes@xxxxxxxxxxxx
- Sender: owner-microcontes@xxxxxxxxxxxx
Després de llegir l'aterridora intervenció de J.Segons ('Fantasmes') m'he
trobat açò a les news. Es tracta d'unes quantes històries molt breus
escrites a la manera del Cercle de Lovecraft. Què us pareix si per a la
pròxima edició de CPE (15 de maig) fem microcontes de terror / fantasia /
--- begin forwarded text
From: bs904@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Andrew Nellis)
Subject: Short-Short Mythos Stories
Date: 22 Mar 1997 15:20:56 GMT
Organization: The National Capital FreeNet
(Much thanks to Dan Clore for giving me the idea.)
Short-Short Mythos Stories
But Did He Pass?
"Professor Lipmann, you wanted to see me?" asked the anthropology student
nervously. He could see that the professor held his doctoral thesis in his
"Secret cults worshipping forgotten gods, and right here in Massachussets.
Quite a claim. I don't see any footnotes here," said the professor, knocking
the dottle out of his pipe. "How did you come by all this information?"
"It was all right here in the library, Professor. Some of the books looked
like they hadn't been touched in a decade or more. I brought the footnotes
with me," he said, passing the paper over to the professor.
Professor Lipmann glanced at the page and nodded. "I have some good news and
some bad news. Which would you like to hear first?"
"Bad, sir," said the student, gulping.
"The bad news is this thesis looks complete and accurate."
The student blinked. "That's the bad news? What's the good news?"
"The good news," said Professor Lipmann, reaching for the sacrificial knife
in his desk drawer, "is that we will know to be more careful next time."
The Admiral stood on the quarterdeck with his legs planted far apart and his
arms clasped behind his back. "Bring her about, helmsman. Ready portside
The boatswain licked his lips nervously as he continued, through the
spyglass, to watch the - thing was all he could think of to call it - the
thing floating in the water. "I don't know if this is such a good idea,
sir," he said, as the ship heaved to, coming nearly to a stop.
"Nonsense," snapped the Admiral. "It's quite obviously a kraken. It's a
danger to shipping and it must be destroyed. Give the blighter a full
broadside! Fire all portside cannons!"
There was a tremendous roar, and the force of the twenty powerful five-
pounders going off heeled the ship over to starboard. The balls struck the
great tentacled monstrosity with a sound like boulders falling into a vat of
Suddenly a single terrible eye the size of a cartwheel opened and turned to
focus on the ship.
"Oh dear," said the Admiral, as the great tentacled head - pocked with a
number of puckered holes - rose on its shoulders from the waves and turned
to deal with the annoyance.
Read Instructions Before Use
"The bloody ritual doesn't work," said the cultist, throwing his athame to
the ground with disgust. "I must have done it fifty times in the last hour.
I'm telling you, it doesn't work. Are you sure we're doing it right?"
"That's what it says here," said his assistant, pointing to the page in the
leather-bound tome he held. "The fellows over in Innsmouth say it works just
"Well I don't know what's wrong. Try the next page."
The assistant turned the page and began reading silently to himself. His
eyes suddenly bugged out and his face turned ashen.
"What, what is it?" asked the cultist.
"It says to wait an hour for the summoning to take effect," said the assistant
in a hoarse whisper - as the first shoggoth materialized in the room.
Everyone Should Have A Hobby
The young boy walked noisily through the creek, his feet making obscene
sucking noises in the mud. With a swift grab, he snatched up another frog
and shoved it into his little pail. He supposed he would have to go home
soon. The sun was setting and it was getting cold. He looked up and
realized he was not alone.
"Hi, mister. Watcha doin'?" asked the boy.
"Same thing you're doing," he said with an impish grin.
"You collecting frogs?"
"Sort of," he replied, pulling out the sack as his gills fluttered with
+-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ .....Who so would be a man must be a........
| Andrew Nellis | . nonconformist. Nothing is at last .
| email@example.com | . sacred but the integrity of your .
+-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ .....own mind. [Ralph Waldo Emerson].......
--- end forwarded text