I did not laugh or hurry up my pace to get to the end in anticipation. By the time I was done the 27 pages I was ready to set it down and found myself wondering at all the fuss about Lovecraft. Then I found myself unable to forget the story, unable to stop wondering about the slimy undercurrents of his mythos. I find myself now writing twice the words than I projected; beginning to ramble like one of his stodgy academic characters; trying to fathom the uncomfortable notion this long dead eccentric has, just now, placed in my mind.
He’ll be back for more.