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The Unspeakable
Jan. 22nd, 2005 02:40 pmIt came to pass that on the 22nd of January, I began a leisurely venture into my refrigerator. It was a tranquil day, unseasonably bright and warm. Little did I know what horror awaited me in the chill depths of the icebox.
I espied a bowl of singularly curious design, mostly covered in a tattered shroud of aluminum foil. My blood chilled at the sight, for I had seen such a thing before, sketched in the pages of certain hoary and unspeakable tomes housed in the library of Miskatonic University. But even knowing what I would find beneath that shining metal veil, still I uncovered the bowl. My mind quailed as I saw what lay before me.
The cranberry shoggoth.
How long that glistening gelatinous mass had lain in that bowl man may never know, but certainly its existance dates back to the previous November. Once the natives had made it offerings of flesh in bizarre and ghoulish rites, but now it sat forgotten, brooding in its stoneware bowl, waiting for the chance to stretch forth its red psuedopods once more. Already a nearby package of mushrooms had fallen prey to its unspeakable appetites, and now lay deliquescing in their own foul juices.
Then the shoggoth's attention turned to me. The power of my elder sign could not save me from the terrifying strength of the alien mind lurking in that bloated red mass. I became its slave, compelled to do its will. And above all it desired freedom, freedom from the prison of its bowl, freedom from the torporous cold of the refrigerator.
And so I carried the shoggoth forth, unable even to scream. I gibbered helplessly in the prison of my skull as my limbs obeyed its viscous command. I released it from the bowl, and it slithered to freedom down the garbage disposal, leaving a trail of gleaming red slime against the stainless steel sink.
What horror have I unleashed upon the world? Even now I hear it, oozing and slurping through the pipes in search of prey. Nothing is safe from it. There is only one course left to me.
The window...the window!
I espied a bowl of singularly curious design, mostly covered in a tattered shroud of aluminum foil. My blood chilled at the sight, for I had seen such a thing before, sketched in the pages of certain hoary and unspeakable tomes housed in the library of Miskatonic University. But even knowing what I would find beneath that shining metal veil, still I uncovered the bowl. My mind quailed as I saw what lay before me.
The cranberry shoggoth.
How long that glistening gelatinous mass had lain in that bowl man may never know, but certainly its existance dates back to the previous November. Once the natives had made it offerings of flesh in bizarre and ghoulish rites, but now it sat forgotten, brooding in its stoneware bowl, waiting for the chance to stretch forth its red psuedopods once more. Already a nearby package of mushrooms had fallen prey to its unspeakable appetites, and now lay deliquescing in their own foul juices.
Then the shoggoth's attention turned to me. The power of my elder sign could not save me from the terrifying strength of the alien mind lurking in that bloated red mass. I became its slave, compelled to do its will. And above all it desired freedom, freedom from the prison of its bowl, freedom from the torporous cold of the refrigerator.
And so I carried the shoggoth forth, unable even to scream. I gibbered helplessly in the prison of my skull as my limbs obeyed its viscous command. I released it from the bowl, and it slithered to freedom down the garbage disposal, leaving a trail of gleaming red slime against the stainless steel sink.
What horror have I unleashed upon the world? Even now I hear it, oozing and slurping through the pipes in search of prey. Nothing is safe from it. There is only one course left to me.
The window...the window!
