Cthulhurotica by Cody Goodfellow, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Jennifer Brozek, Ahimsa Kerp, Carrie Cuinn, Gabrielle Harbowy, Don Pizarro, Madison Woods, Richard Baron, Juan Miguel Marin, Maria Mitchell, Mae Empson, Nathan Crowder, KV Taylor, Andrew Scearce, Constella Espj, Leon J. West, Travis King, Steven J. Searce, Clint Collins, Matthew Marovich, Gary Mark Bernstein, Kirsten Brown, Kenneth Hite, Justin Everett Page B
Authors: Cody Goodfellow, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Jennifer Brozek, Ahimsa Kerp, Carrie Cuinn, Gabrielle Harbowy, Don Pizarro, Madison Woods, Richard Baron, Juan Miguel Marin, Maria Mitchell, Mae Empson, Nathan Crowder, KV Taylor, Andrew Scearce, Constella Espj, Leon J. West, Travis King, Steven J. Searce, Clint Collins, Matthew Marovich, Gary Mark Bernstein, Kirsten Brown, Kenneth Hite, Justin Everett
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brambles that lined her route as camouflage. I fell behind her at an increasing pace as I tried to mask my presence, flinching as a twig snapped loudly under my foot and ah! I held my breath in fear but as I realized that my wife noticed me not at all, I ignored any further hiding spots and ran after her in earnest.
We reached the hill nearly together and began to ascend to its peak, Mamie apparently unconcerned by its steep incline, her dainty frame moving on and increasing her pace as I alone struggled for breath against its steepness. As I neared its crest I lost sight of her, the undergrowth being at its thickest there. I once reached an impassable section of gnarled oaks and bushes and was forced to backtrack in search of easier access. As I groped my way around in the darkness I was suddenly stilled by that terrible cry, its sharp sound cutting through the night chilling my nerves, and I dare now to admit that for a moment I remained motionless. Was it not for the fear of Mamie’s safety I would have retreated in great haste.
I remained strong though the cries continued, and made my way to its source. In time the hill evened out and I found myself looking at a large, moonlit plateau. There on the ground before me was a strip of white I recognized from Mamie’s dressing gown. Grasping the retrieved fabric in one hand, I edged nearer, with those terrible cries gaining frequency as I approached.
As I brushed the last of the branches from my way I came upon a sight that caused me to shriek aloud in horror!
How do I describe the terrifying image before me? How do I put into words the spectacle without resorting to madness myself?
The mass of gray flesh that pulsated along its slug-like body, the myriad of snake-like tentacles (each as thick as oaks) that swarmed in frenzy from its head crowned above an array of beaked mouths that snapped and spitted. The thing was no creature that could be named. The closest resemblance being that of some giant disfigured Octopi… it moved as I had previously witnessed from my room and as I followed the monstrosity’s motions, I let out a cry at seeing what had become of Mamie.
There she lay under the head of the monster, her gown lying in a wrinkled mass around her neck, exposing her perfect breasts, upon which eel-like tongues licked. Her legs were spread wide by tentacle appendages that sprang from huge follicles at the creature’s sides. Still others erupted from those cloying beaks and traversed eagerly up her moistened thighs. The horror was all encompassing and though I had gone to the hilltop with the intent of protecting Mamie, I must have had some sort of blackout for the next thing I remembered was waking at home, the sun signaling morning, and my wife sleeping soundly at my side.
Some would say I dreamt those events, and had suffered nothing more than an unusual nightmare. I would like to think this is true. Mamie’s sleepwalking ceased that night, as did the crying sounds from the hill, and never again did I see the creature I witnessed upon its peak, though never again will I set foot there.
Whatever the cause of Mamie’s odd behavior its effect has apparently passed for good because she seems happier than I have ever known her to be. She rubs her belly each night, content that she has recently started to develop a bump where her blossoming child grows. I smile at her exactly as often as she smiles at me, honestly happy in the pregnancy but secretly grow fearful of what may become of us. I keep telling myself that it was but a dream yet the sound still haunts me.
The terrible sound that reached me in the darkness, that hideous sound that so terrified my nights, did not come from the beast upon the hill. No, not from the throat of some animal, but from that of my wife as she lay beneath that unnameable horror, writhing not in terror… but in ecstasy.
Juan Miguel Marin
RIEMANNIAN DREAMS
Nighttime. Recurring dream. Water cascades into the pool. I walk towards
We reached the hill nearly together and began to ascend to its peak, Mamie apparently unconcerned by its steep incline, her dainty frame moving on and increasing her pace as I alone struggled for breath against its steepness. As I neared its crest I lost sight of her, the undergrowth being at its thickest there. I once reached an impassable section of gnarled oaks and bushes and was forced to backtrack in search of easier access. As I groped my way around in the darkness I was suddenly stilled by that terrible cry, its sharp sound cutting through the night chilling my nerves, and I dare now to admit that for a moment I remained motionless. Was it not for the fear of Mamie’s safety I would have retreated in great haste.
I remained strong though the cries continued, and made my way to its source. In time the hill evened out and I found myself looking at a large, moonlit plateau. There on the ground before me was a strip of white I recognized from Mamie’s dressing gown. Grasping the retrieved fabric in one hand, I edged nearer, with those terrible cries gaining frequency as I approached.
As I brushed the last of the branches from my way I came upon a sight that caused me to shriek aloud in horror!
How do I describe the terrifying image before me? How do I put into words the spectacle without resorting to madness myself?
The mass of gray flesh that pulsated along its slug-like body, the myriad of snake-like tentacles (each as thick as oaks) that swarmed in frenzy from its head crowned above an array of beaked mouths that snapped and spitted. The thing was no creature that could be named. The closest resemblance being that of some giant disfigured Octopi… it moved as I had previously witnessed from my room and as I followed the monstrosity’s motions, I let out a cry at seeing what had become of Mamie.
There she lay under the head of the monster, her gown lying in a wrinkled mass around her neck, exposing her perfect breasts, upon which eel-like tongues licked. Her legs were spread wide by tentacle appendages that sprang from huge follicles at the creature’s sides. Still others erupted from those cloying beaks and traversed eagerly up her moistened thighs. The horror was all encompassing and though I had gone to the hilltop with the intent of protecting Mamie, I must have had some sort of blackout for the next thing I remembered was waking at home, the sun signaling morning, and my wife sleeping soundly at my side.
Some would say I dreamt those events, and had suffered nothing more than an unusual nightmare. I would like to think this is true. Mamie’s sleepwalking ceased that night, as did the crying sounds from the hill, and never again did I see the creature I witnessed upon its peak, though never again will I set foot there.
Whatever the cause of Mamie’s odd behavior its effect has apparently passed for good because she seems happier than I have ever known her to be. She rubs her belly each night, content that she has recently started to develop a bump where her blossoming child grows. I smile at her exactly as often as she smiles at me, honestly happy in the pregnancy but secretly grow fearful of what may become of us. I keep telling myself that it was but a dream yet the sound still haunts me.
The terrible sound that reached me in the darkness, that hideous sound that so terrified my nights, did not come from the beast upon the hill. No, not from the throat of some animal, but from that of my wife as she lay beneath that unnameable horror, writhing not in terror… but in ecstasy.
Juan Miguel Marin
RIEMANNIAN DREAMS
Nighttime. Recurring dream. Water cascades into the pool. I walk towards
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