HP Lovecraft – Cultural Revue

In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and a faint, distant baying as of some gigantic hound. It is not a dream—it is not, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. St. John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, andContinue reading “Lovecraft for Christmas: ‘The Hound’ and Holiday Comfort Reading”