Apologies and Shameless Pandering

            My sincerest apologies to the four or five of you who check this page on a regular basis.  There won’t be an update this week because I’ve had a bunch of stuff going on (including the release of a new novella from Permuted Press, The Junkie Quatrain —check it out) and I just haven’t been able to put enough work in this excerpt to make it camera-ready.

            Part of it is because I’m going big for the last two episodes and trying to design a fairly elaborate set for them.  Not just elaborate, but pretty huge, too.  It’s already covering half the table and it’s still not done.  Heck, I’m not even sure my camera’s going to be able to pull off the shots I’m hoping for.  I guess we’ll all see in the weeks to come.

            In the meantime, for your enjoyment, I tossed together something that’s not exactly Lovecraft-related, but does tie into that whole nineteen-teens-twenties-noir feel so many of his stories have.  To be exact, the pulp era.

            So here’s the Shadow beating up some gangsters.  If I’d had a little more time, I would’ve made it down at the docks with some fog.  Maybe I’ll do that next time I need a quick fill-in.

The dark church again, my battle-orders, Friday's reunion

           ...He had no sooner given his father these raisins but I saw him come out of the boat and run away as if he had been bewitched, he ran at such a rate.He was the swiftest fellow on his feet ever I saw, even with his odd gait. He was out of sight in an instant, and tho’ I called and hallooed out after him, away he went.
           This action put an end to our pursuit of the canoe with the other savages, who were now got almost out of sight.  It was happy for us we did not, for it blew so hard within two hours after, and before they could be got a quarter of their way, and continued blowing so hard all night, I could not suppose their boat could live, or that they ever reached their own coast.

            Yet at the time I did not know this.  As I bethought myself my concerns, Friday's father raised a weak hand and pointed at the great totem of the dark church, the cuttel fish figure of my dreams.  He cry’d out many words, which had an awful memory to me, and I did recall across the years those words my parrot Poll had cried out before his death.  Altho' now one of these words was not foreign to me, for I had discust it with my man Friday many times, and that word was Kathooloo.  This did cause me great discomfort, and the beast howl'd within my skin, and I was pleased when the old man let his hand drop and became silent again.

            In a quarter of an hour I saw Friday come back again, tho’ not so fast as he went.  As he came nearer, I found his pace slacker, because he had something in his hand.  When he came up to me, I found he had been to the summer house, which was nearer the dark church than my castle, for an earthen jug to bring his father some fresh water, and he had two more cakes or loaves of bread.  The bread he gave me, but the water he carried to his father.  The water revived his father more than all the rum or spirits I had given him, for he was just fainting with thirst.

            When his father had drank, I called to him to know if there was any water left.  He said "Yes," and I bade him give it to the poor Spaniard, who was in as much want of it as his father.  I sent one of the cakes to the Spaniard too, who was indeed very weak and was reposing himself upon a not as red place under the shade of a tree, which had one of the old symbols carv'd in its bark.  When I saw he sat up and drank and took the bread and began to eat, I went to him and gave him a handful of raisins.  He look'd up in my face with all the gratitude and thankfulness that could appear in any countenance, but was so weak, notwithstanding he had so exerted himself in the fight, he could not stand up upon his feet.  By way of signs he made it known to me that his name was Olegario, and I gave him my name as well, which brought a relieved smile to his face.

            Friday came back to me presently, and we two stepped away to the great totem.  It was plain he did not like the thing, for he look'd most reluctant to approach it.  "Friday," said I, "do you know this man?"

            He shook his head, which I first took as a denial of knowledge, but then reflected that he objected to my calling the cuttel fish figure of the totem a man.  "What is this?" I asked.

            Friday look'd at me with his large, dark eyes and trembled.  "That great Kathooloo," said he, "who sleep and dream beneath the sea."

            Tho' I suspected as much, this did make me tremble myself, and I repeat'd the question in the hope I had misunderstood my man, or he had misspoke to me.  He said again the name, and seem'd at sorts to be confronted by his former god.  After some moments his eyes met mine and he said "All things say O to him."

            I was aware of a noise, and saw that the father, Walla-kay, again had his hand point'd at the totem and was repeating his words, altho' now as a penitent man says his prayers...

My dream companion, the savages, the prisoner

            ...There was between them and my castle the creek, which I mentioned often in the first part of my story, where I landed my cargoes out of the ship.  This I saw the poor wretch must swim over or he would be taken there.  When the escaping savage came thither, he made nothing of it, tho’ the tyde was then up.  Plunging in, he swam through in about thirty strokes, landed, and ran on with exceeding strength and swiftness.

            When the three persons came to the creek, I found two of them could swim, but the third would not.  Standing on the other side, he looked at the others, but went no farther, and soon after went back again, which, as it happened, was very well for him in the end.  I observ’d the two who swam, tho' clumsy apace, were yet more than twice as fast swimming over the creek as the fellow was that fled from them.  It came now upon my thoughts, and indeed irresistibly, that now was the time to get me a servant and perhaps a companion or assistant, and I was called plainly by Providence to save this poor creature's life.  I ran down the ladders with all possible expedition, fetched my two guns, and getting up again to the top of the hill I crossed towards the sea.  Having a very short cut, and all down hill, I placed myself in the way between the pursuers and the pursued, hallooing aloud to him that fled.  Looking back, he was at first perhaps as much frightened at me as at them.  I beckoned with my hand to him to come back.

            In the mean time, I advanced towards the two that followed.  Rushing at once upon the foremost, I knocked him down with the stock of my piece.  I was loth to fire because I would not have the rest hear, tho’ at that distance they would not have known what to make of it. Having  knock'd this fellow down, the other who pursued him stopped as if he had been frightened and I advanced apace towards him.  As I came nearer, I perceived he had a bow and arrow and was fitting it to shoot at me.  I was then necessitated to shoot at him first, which I did, and killed him at the first shot. 

            The poor savage who fled, tho’ he saw both his enemies fallen and killed, was so frightened with the fire and noise of my piece he stood stock-still and neither came forward nor went backward.  He seemed rather inclined still to fly.  I hallooed again to him and made signs to come forward, which he understood and came a little way.  Then stopped again.  And then a little farther, and stopped again.  I could then perceive he stood trembling, as if he had been taken prisoner just to be killed, as his two enemies were.  I beckoned to him again to come to me and gave him all the signs of encouragement I could think of.  He came nearer and nearer, kneeling down every ten or twelve steps in token of acknowledgment for saving his life.  I smiled at him and looked pleasantly and beckoned to him to come still nearer.  At length he came close to me. He kneeled down again, kissed the ground, and laid his head upon the ground, and taking me by the foot, set my foot upon his head.  This, it seems, was in token of swearing to be my slave for ever.  I took him up, and made much of him, and encouraged him all I could.

            But there was more work to do yet.  I perceived the savage whom I knocked down was not killed but stunned with the blow, and began to come to himself.  I pointed to him and showed my savage he was not dead.  Upon this he spoke some words to me, and tho’ I could not understand them, I thought they were pleasant to hear, for they were the first sound of a man's voice I had heard for above twenty-five years. 

            But there was no time for such reflections now.  The savage who was knocked down recovered himself so far as to sit up upon the ground and I perceived my savage, for so I call him now, began to be afraid.  When I saw that, I presented my other piece at the other man as if I would shoot him.  Upon this my savage made a motion to me and took up the other savage's great wooden sword, which had fallen when I struck him.  My savage no sooner had it but he ran to his enemy and, at one blow, cut off his head so cleverly no executioner in Germany could have done it sooner or better.  When he had done this, he came laughing to me in triumph and brought me the sword again and, with abundance of gestures which I did not understand, laid it down just before me with the head of the savage he had killed.

            I turned to go away, and beckoned him to follow me...

The dark church, my plans, my rational mind

            ...When I was come down the hill to the end of the island, where, indeed, I had never been before, I was presently convinced that seeing the print of a man's foot was not such a strange thing in the island as I imagined.  It was a special providence I was cast upon the side of the island where the savages never came.  I should easily have known nothing was more frequent than for the canoes from the main, when they happened to be a little too far out at sea, to shoot over to that side of the island for harbour.

           When I was come down the hill to the shore, as I said above, being the south west point of the island, I was confounded and amazed.  Nor is it possible for me to express the horror of my mind at seeing the shore spread with skulls, hands, feet, and other bones of human bodies.  I observ’d a place where there had been a fire made and a circle dug in the earth, where I supposed the savage wretches, according to their dreadful customs, had sat down to their inhuman feastings upon the bodies of their fellow creatures.

            I further observ'd this whole corner of the island had been shaped and arrang'd to serve their needs, and just as I had made a homestead on my side of the island, the savages had made a church for their awful beliefs.  Many trees had strange symbols and shapes cut within their bark, and these symbols were also painted large on many stones, altho' the growls of the beast told me what the paint most certainly was.  I stepp'd over the bones and skulls to closer examine a tree, and saw the cuts and carving were very old.  The sand itself, indeed, was all red with long use.  This savage church had been here on my island long before the fateful night that brought the beast and I to the shores here.  Tho' now I wonder'd the wisdom of calling it my island, and if it ever had been.

            Twelve great strides from the fire-circle was a large iron-wood tree, one which dwarft all I had ever seen, and all things had been clear'd away from it.  Were four men to stretch their arms only then might they just encircle the base of such a giant, and it took another twelve steps to walk about and examine it.  To the height of two men had the living tree been shaped and cut to make a living totem or statue from the wood, which continued to grow as its roots and leaves attested.  It was the shape of a great man, one who crouch'd like a child at play, or an animal, I could not say which.  Upon his carv'd feet and hands were great claws, like those of the beast, which made these appendages even longer and more disturbing.  His head was large and his eyes long and wide.  A beard of thick, fat hairs trail'd down his face, and crouched as he was the hairs all but reached his ancles.  And then a cold chill did creep through my limbs, for I knew this figure and had seen it before...

Years go by, my sea voyage, the ominous voice

            ...So taking nothing from my raft but my gun, I began my march.  The way was comfortable enough after such a voyage as I had been upon, and I reached my old bower in the evening, where I found every thing standing as I left it.  I always kept it in good order, being, as I have said before, my country house.

           I got over the fence and laid me down in the shade to rest my limbs, for I was very weary, and fell asleep.  But judge, you that read my story, if you can, what a surprise I must be in when I was awaked out of my sleep by a voice calling me by my name several times.  "Robin, Robin, Robin Crusoe.  Poor Robin Crusoe!  Where are you, Robin Crusoe?  Where are you?"

            I was so dead asleep at first, being fatigued with paddling the first part of the day and with walking the latter part, I did not wake thoroughly.  But I did think I dreamt somebody spoke to me.  As the voice continued to repeat "Robin Crusoe, Robin Crusoe," at last I began to wake more and was at first frightened and started up in the utmost consternation.  But no sooner were my eyes open but I saw my Poll sitting on the top of the hedge and knew it was he that spoke to me.  In just such bemoaning language I had used to talk to him, and teach him.

            "Robin Crusoe," he repeated.  "There you are."  And then, quite unexpectedly, did he utter words I had not taught him, and these words did give me a chill and a shiver like the icy sea of England.  "They will kill you, Robin Crusoe."

            I confess, at first I was so torn tween the joy of hearing my name aloud by one other than I, and a terror at the same after six long years, that I did not think on what little Poll did say.  Then the import of his words was known to me, and I wonder'd who had taught my parrot such words, and why, and when.

            "Robin Crusoe!  Robin Crusoe!" squawk'd he.  "They come to kill you and eat your flesh.  Your beast cannot save you, Robin Crusoe.  Your soul shall feed the Great Dreamer!  Ia!  Ia!!"

            At this did Poll fall into madness, as one who has seen awful things that cannot be unremembered, as for a while I thought I may do upon this island.  The parrot shook on the hedge as if chill'd and squawk'd out many sounds and noises that had no meaning behind them.  Tho' as I watched and listen'd I did hear a pattern, and knew the sounds were a language unknown to me, and Poll call'd out the same words again and again as one who chants or prays.  And as I listened more, these words did began to hurt my ears and head.  As the sound of a cannon at close quarters may bleed the ears, so did Poll's squawks make me recoil and cover my ears...