# Nanzagoth (Short Story)



## FleshEater (Sep 12, 2012)

*Nanzagoth (Current WIP 3,589)*

*“Nanzagoth”*​By Matthew A. Campbell​ 
            I have concluded that mankind is nothing more than a minuscule speck, insignificant in its existence within a vast, endless universe. The common belief of a celestial realm, posing itself in a life hereafter, seems no longer plausible after what I have witnessed. I fear our species shall soon be acquainted with the same hopelessness that now afflicts my very being. We’re not alone; I know this now. There are far more superior life forms hiding themselves amongst the stars and the planets. They’re unworldly creatures that walk among us, hidden, disguised in human flesh and blood.

The information contained herein shall reveal the unearthly _things_ dwelling upon this earth, which are so hideous and malicious in their intent that I dare not speak of them. I have thus far remained silent about those inhuman anomalies that I had discovered within those wooded mountains of the north. Now, it seems, I have been driven nearly insane by my refusal to communicate the horrors which beseeched me on my travels. I imagine, once my silence is broken, that I shall be committed indefinitely. I alone have knowledge of these _things_, and the solitary confinement of that knowledge has tormented me perpetually. Persecution shall be welcomed with sheer alacrity if it means the resolution of this unrelenting burden.

My search of literary inspiration is what led me to the small village of Carthage. I intended to spend the remaining months of the year confined to the desolate solitude of the northern most regions of the Appalachian Mountains. I had hoped that residing in utter seclusion would offer the appropriate peace and tranquility needed to finish my work. This small village would be the last sign of humanity before I ventured into the far reaches of the uninhabited wilderness. I had planned to spend only a few days in Carthage, in search of a place to rest and to replenish diminished supplies. However, I knew not of the impending doom, nor of the deadly confinement awaiting me in that damnable place.

*The Village*​ 
I had traveled many miles through the treacherous Appalachia terrain before reaching the crest of the White Mountains. As I stood atop the colossal mass of earth, I could vaguely discern the minute presence of humanity residing below, nestled deeply within the mountains womb. A mist presided over the vale, draping all that lain beneath it in a dreary, uncanny haze. The vast range of surrounding prodigious earth, cast its shadow over the entirety of the valley, seemingly hiding the village of Carthage amidst a sea of darkness. Luminous trails of dawning light shone through the foliage on either side of the land mass, its radiance danced upon the miasmatic cloud below, dispersing its reflection wildly. The view beset before me entranced my mind in fantastic wonders, seducing in its greatness; enticing the imaginative artistry of divinity.

I saturated my lungs in the wonders of that atmosphere, inhaling a zephyr of cool September air, which rushed over my face as I rode my horse along the mountain path. Autumn’s scent trailed carelessly behind, its notable aroma enthralled and permeated my senses. The mountainous frondescence bathed the landscape in waves of beautiful, flourishing greenery, which flowed exuberantly with life and vitality. The forthcoming cold weather could not be hinted in the slightest amongst this utterly magnificent, celestial portrayal of scenery. 

Though the beauty of this seeming perfection in nature nourished the senses; there existed an eerie tinge of insidious serenity, which encapsulated me as I looked upon the wooded land. A peculiar sense of stillness haunted the natural elegance of these mountains, like an unknown presence, brooding infernal desires as it lays in wait. The wild life appeared devoid, as if it had retired to hibernation, or that it altogether ceased to exist. I much expected the forests to clamor wildly in harmonious song, but instead received only silence from the mountains vacancy. The mere sound of my horse, breaking branches and disturbing the earth, resounded like a death rattle amongst the emptiness as I made my descent.

Traversing further down the steep, harsh mountainside, I noticed the air growing heavier, dampening my clothes as droplets of dew formed about the brim of my fedora. A dense, murky fog shrouded the mountain floor, which relinquished to the eye only a faint silhouette of outlined cottages. At the very sight of this nearing destination, an unrelenting and wild aggression incited within my horse. The beast reared back violently, nearly knocking me to the ground. Such a display of animosity induced an unnerving feeling within my very being. I should have heeded the warning which the animal so vehemently delivered, but instead I cursed at his unruliness as I battled his stubbornness. After what had seemed many minutes, I had regained control of the steed. However, I do not believe the animal trusted my guidance nor even obeyed my strict words; instead I fear that something much more powerful, something sinister, had commanded his will.

The village lain less than a mile from the base of the mountain. Though the looming fog, which cast a dim hue of grey over the village had made it appear much further. The bottom of this mountainous vale appeared wholly different from that of the high peaks above. That wonderful, though silent landscape that had first impressed my senses negated this lower region, leaving it absolutely devoid of the flourishing greenery, the life, the vitality; its cessation gave way to nothing but barren earth. It was a portrait which mimicked death and depravity in a jesting manner; the artistry of a truly decadent, fallen god.

A shrill shiver crept down my spine as I made my way along the pathway to the village. The trail led me to an immense tunnel of grotesquely twisted trees, whose bare branches intertwined together in menacing gestures. These were the bane of life amongst the earth beneath, as the dense cloud of limbs omitted all light, giving way only to darkness. Never before had I seen such a display of morbidity within the natural realm. Lying on either side a waterway acted as a barbaric moat, which forced those wishing to pass through the entangled corridor of the unknown; into that seeming apparition of life, into the abysmal fog.

This horrific display of decrepitude had unsettled me greatly. My horse, however, seemed eerily complacent, as if he previously had not been stricken with sheer terror from the very sight of this hellish place. As I entered the tunnel, I heard only the pounding of my pulse within my head, and the heavy breathing of the steed beneath me. The silence that filled this dark, dank channel, created a chilling, ghostly emptiness. The opposing side of the passage gave way to a hole of sullenly illuminated mist, which grew larger as the seconds passed. Still, the ride through the odd tunnel of hideous growth, seemed to last an eternity.

The nightmarish realm opened to the entrance of the village. Peering through that damned, omnipresent fog, the dilapidated cottages and the vileness within the streets could vaguely be seen. The village seemingly modeled a long lost civilization of ruin, appearing as if it had been abandoned for decades.

My horse’s hooves clapped and echoed through the hollow, empty, stone streets as I slowly made my way forward. The village consisted of narrow byways that navigated throughout, in a winding, almost serpentine like manner. The further I traversed within, the more pronounced the details of this ruin became. The windows and doors of many dwellings had been destroyed, or all together left open. Fences that had previously held livestock were rendered useless, their gates hung freely in the still air. Bridles hung vacant from the wooden posts which had once secured the animals that had worn them. The village seemed to be completely deserted and abandoned by any and all things living. That same haunting stillness, which plagued the surrounding mountains, now lingered amidst this empty, desolate place.

An unearthly slime littered the cottages with its filth, and became ever more apparent as I traveled further into the dismal ruin. It had been strewn about the streets and dwellings in a manner characteristically associated with the webbing of arachnids. The thick, black webbing hung freely, like grotesque tinsel, decorating the town in a horrific fashion. The substance appeared to possess an oily, smooth texture to it and emitted a fetid, rotten odor. I had never seen nor read of anything like it before. The creature, from which this atrocity had been born, lacked characteristics of anything ever seen within this world.

I continued to follow the most prominent street, making my way onward through the ruination. On either side a cascade of desecrated dwellings littered the earth, and the black spatial webbing became denser as I ventured deeper within. This ever growing veil of hideousness scattered above me like a thunderstorm forming at the brink of twilight. My pocket watch approached noon and the sun would have presumably risen far above the mountain floor, and  yet this hellish place remained a dull, sullen hue of nimbus grey.

Peering ahead through the dark, thick air I could see the endless blackness shrouding the entirety of the sky above. A church resided in the near distance, and its steeple ascended into the abyss. The house of divinity stood erect in the center of the village acting as the apex of the cataclysmic cobweb. All roads led to this church, which resided on a circular plot of ground. The irony of the webbing spewing forth from this building, much like that of the byways, struck me as oddly peculiar; as if the monstrosity possessed an intelligence comparable, if not superior, to that of man.

As I sat upon my horse, I looked above to the staggering steeple and the alien-like substance, which wrapped and whorled its morbid entanglement about its peak. The cobweb spun in all directions, sprawling itself in a maddening descent towards the village. Below the steeple there hung an inverted crucifix, the black webbing suspended from it mockingly. I shuddered at the thought of this devilment being carried forth with purpose, the thing blatantly exposing our inferiority. As I gazed upon the scene of the church in utter bewilderment my eyes befell the most atrocious display of all. Lining the church yard were rows of entombed bodies. The vague gestures in which they lay were the only evidence I had to assume they were human cadavers.

They were encased, or rather mummified in the arachnid-like matter. The _thing_ had wound it tightly up to their necks, like a form fitting coffin. What I saw protruding from above those coffin-like cocoons resembled nothing of human facial expression. Flesh and tissue were absolutely devoid; their skulls were twisted in a gesture of manufactured fright, of bone that seemed to have been melted and sculpted. Those mangled faces of men, women and children laid there before their house of worship, their agony befalling their mocked God and I stood over them, drowning in sorrow, praying to join them in eternal slumber.

I stared aimlessly into that desolate, daemonic world, despondently lost in the damnation, which formed itself in ways man had never seen. The evidence of mankind's future unveiled itself within the mountain vale before me in its unfathomable absoluteness. Here, in this village, Death’s reign offered neither sanctity nor salvation from my toiling travels. 

*The Inn*​ 
I turned my horse away from the detestable scene of atrocity, to rid my eyes of the awful sight that lain before me in the church yard. I traversed onward. The steady gait of my horse resounded tumultuously, pummeling through the deadened silence of the encompassing devastation. The incessant “click, clack” of the steeds hooves hammered away, mercilessly pounding the macabre portraits, which screamed in agony and tortuous fright, deeper into my mind’s eye. Desperate attempts to cleanse my thoughts of those distorted putrid faces of the cocooned dead, which corrupted and haunted my vision, were all in vain.

The sun had begun to descend slowly beneath the western mountainside, its luminous salvation washed into the beyond like waves of the sea. The still, moist air which lingered within the infernal crevasse fell cold as the twilight approached, and the mountains cast their omissible shadows ever further.

I felt my body shiver as my damp clothing chilled my skin. The dreadful thought of having to see the night through in this accursed place ravished my mind in terrifying wonders. An attempt, under the cover of night, to ascend the steep and treacherous mountainside would certainly prove as fatal as the threat of hypothermia, or that of encountering the unknown _thing_ which desecrated this village. This nightmarish reality that had befallen this valley rendered my spirit of all hope, creating a void of darkness within me as I roamed an empty town; cold, starving and tired.

Upon reaching this dismal deduction, the quarters of the local inn became apparent. The inn sat nestled behind a row of dilapidated cottages that followed the most prominent byway. The building had appeared vacant, abandoned, and miraculously seemed to suffer the least amount of violation. Its high peaks staggered themselves in a Georgian manner, which set it drastically apart from the dreary and dull architecture of the surrounding village.

I approached the inn precariously, dreading the possible discovery of more cocooned denizens. Fragments of the arachnid webbing scarcely littered the face of the building. The doors had remained shut though most of the windows had been broken out. A peculiar mass of substance laid hanging from one of the shattered panes adjacent to the front entryway. It appeared to be a trail of inhuman, internal organs that had been ripped from the cavity of the creature’s abdomen. The trail of disembowelment led off through the inn's yard and into the wooded landscape. I concluded that this had been a retreat rather than an effort of refuge and that the thing which suffered the infliction had long since fled.

Without wasting time I dismounted my horse and retrieved the revolver from my belt holster. The last dying rays of the sun were gleaming upon the building, just above the lower floor’s windows, acting as the sole means by which I could find my way through the inn. With hammer drawn, I slowly rolled the handle of the entry way door and pushed it open. The interior shewn signs of a maddening struggle: debris and furnishings laid scattered about the lower floor, large holes gaped wide open and pieces of the structure were wholly devoid throughout. Humanity had strove for a last stand in this monumental place, which left it ravished like a battle field lacking only the gruesome piles of the recently departed.

A musty, blood tinged odor penetrated my nostrils as I stepped inside. The disheveled scenery emitted rancidness similar to that of the creature's webbing. My exhaustion served to ease my discomfort of the rotten atmosphere but failed to alleviate much of my trepidation. I led my horse in through the large entrance to conceal our presence. As I tied the bridle to the railing in the lobby, a small shadow darted across the wall.

I reeled around to expose the barrel of my revolver. My hands shook tremulously as a cold sweat broke upon my brow. I had believed this entire village to be utterly devoid of life, but the mere glimpse of the shadow had stricken me in frenzied panic, nearly ceasing the beating of my heart. 

I peered through the dimly lit interior as I proceeded forward slowly. My clasp on the revolver tightened, my breathing grew more intense and my heart pounded like a war drum inside of my head. _Something_ moved. I faintly heard a rustling coming from within the darkened corner. I stood, frozen, as the absoluteness of sheer horror overpowered my being. That incessant, deafening rapping within the confines of my head seemed to be the only indication that I still remained alive. In an instant the _thing_ stirred again; this time backing itself deeper into the shadows away from me.

Though my mind raced in maniacal confusion, I knew better than to let an aimless shot resound throughout this empty village. If more creatures still existed within this valley they would surely come in search of more prey, tracking the echoing sound of the pistol. That’s when I heard the _thing_ from within the shadows.

“Don’t shoot, please don’t shoot!” the shaky, weak voice of a young woman instantly broke the dreadful silence. It sounded as if it were teetering on the brink of death. 

I will never forget those words, the desolation that resided in the vocal resonance permeated the air in an unforgettably, haunting manner.

I hesitated at first, my fear held me crippled, gripping my nerves. The thought of another human being surviving within this ravaged village baffled me into mindlessness. Before I could respond to the voice, she stepped out of the shadows, showing me that my fleeting sanity had not conjured an illusion.

The girl’s skin portrayed a sickly, pallid, pale complexion and her eyes wore a dull, lifeless, cloudy blue. Her torn and tattered attire appeared to be covered in both earthly and unearthly filth. She adorned thin, skeletal features in her malnourished and most likely dehydrated state of being. How she had survived the carnage of the daemonic creature which ravished this village was beyond me. If it were not for her words presenting the revealing of herself, I would have assumed her the embodiment of a living corpse.

I do not recall the entirety of our short conversation; though I do remember, in precise detail her atrocious warning of condemnation, of certain death. She hissed a whisper in her hollow, calm, cold voice; “Leave this place, get as far away as you can. Nanzagoth; the queen’s minions, they come at night and they take us, they’ll take YOU. You must leave, do not stay here, I beg of you.”

In the instant her voice descended into nothingness, a shrill, deafening scream which filled the valley with its harsh, terrible sound befell our ears. Our voices must have echoed throughout that still, murky air. The bellow of the monstrous, hideous _thing_ seemed very, very near. The beastly baying continued; its din ravaged my ear drums as it increased in its intensity. It reminded me of the sirens that had adorned the very first vehicles built for extinguishing fires within city limits. Those screams echoed incessantly; repeating over and over again as if it were an alarm.

The young, sickly girl grabbed my arm and pulled me into the depths of the shadows as her cold hand clenched my mouth. No words were spoken amongst us as we waited; I knew not to move, not to make even the slightest sound. I sat there, her hand clasped over my mouth tightly as I watched my horse standing inside the entrance of the inn. The inhuman screams screeched loudly as it neared. In an instant, the heavy wooden door ripped from the front of the building with an unimaginable force. The sheer power of the unhinging of the entry knocked my horse to the floor.

Two unclothed, human-like creatures proceeded through the debris. Their eyes burnt a fiery emerald green and their appendages no longer formed humanly arms or legs, but rather fleshy tentacles. They scurried and writhed through the wreckage like a creature birthed from the sea. An abhorred odor accompanied their presence. It penetrated my nostrils and made me feel ill; for I had never smelt anything as rank or disgusting before. They stood over my horse, staring inquisitively at the steed as they remorselessly strangled the life from the animal. Almost effortlessly they picked up the enormous beast and carried it off.

I had nearly fainted when I saw the creatures hoist the dead animal above their heads. Her grip tightened as she shook me back to reality. She released her hold of me and crawled out of the shadows and placed her finger over her lips indicating me to remain silent. Pointing to my revolver she shook her head “no”. I knew all too well the message she wished to convey. 

She grabbed my arm and led me through the rear entrance of the building. We hurried through the ruined town, crouching amidst the overgrown grass, heading in the opposite direction of the creatures. Following a beaten down path, we nearly ran the whole way to the entrance of the village. The girl had devised routes throughout the entirety of this place, that allowed her to travel undetected to and fro. Our retreat ended just within the wood line of the surrounding fields in a small, cave-like hole in the earth. The salvation of this cavernous abode is what had allowed the girl to survive this deadly nightmare.

As darkness prevailed, the mountain vale clamored with life. I could hear in the distance the mad screams and wretched howling of the creatures. They undoubtedly were feeding upon my horse like wild starving animals.

Light ceased to exist within the small cave and not a word could be safely said between us. The girl leaned over to me, placing her lips upon my ears, and whispered “rest”. In my utter exhaustive state I lost consciousness rather than slept. For no one could sleep under those circumstances and thus the assistance of absolute exhaustion was required.

*The Lair

To Be Continued...*​


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## JackKnife (Sep 12, 2012)

> I have concluded that mankind is nothing more than a minuscule spec



*speck



> The information contained herein shall reveal the unearthly _things, _which now dwell upon this earth. Creatures so hideous and malicious in their intent that I dare not speak of them.



Hyphenate between 'this earth' and 'creatures'.



> I have thus far, remained silent about those unworldly anomalieswhich I had discovered within the wooded mountains of the north.



anomalies which*



> Now, it seems, I have been driven nearly clinically insane by my refusal to communicate the horrors, which beseeched me on my travels.



Nix the comma between horrors and which.

I really like the narrative here. Besides the few small errors pointed out above, it's pretty much flawless as far as grammar, spelling, and punctuation go. It's easy to read through and the tone of the piece doesn't allow hang-ups anywhere. Nice job.


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## FleshEater (Sep 12, 2012)

You know what's weird; "spec" looked weird to me, since it's not a word encountered often. Thanks for that ha-ha! I guess I'm so used to seeing "specs" meaning specifications that I just nixed the "k". 

Thank you for the hyphenation; I had no idea when exactly to use those. Much appreciated! 

In my original draft that I copied and pasted from there is a space between anomalies and which; I guess you really do need to completely proof read your transfers here. 

Another funny thing...right after I posted it I did remove that comma ha-ha! 

Thank you so much for your comments and quick reply. I'm not really overly confident in my writing, but realize that I'm getting there and every bit of feed back helps. I believe this is my 7th short story and I've only shown I believe 4 of those to other writers.


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## Staff Deployment (Sep 12, 2012)

I wish I had time for a longer critique, but I know another Lovecraft fan when I see one. Just wanted to say, "Iä!" and be off.

I'll probably return and give this a more critical look-through, but I definitely like the tone and narrative style of the piece. I didn't actually see that you stated Lovecraft as an influence until after I'd read it and devised that you were channeling Lovecraft, by the way. That's a very good thing.


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## VampFact (Sep 12, 2012)

Looks like the start of a nice bit of yog sothothery. Keep at it!


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## FleshEater (Sep 12, 2012)

Staff Deployment said:


> I wish I had time for a longer critique, but I know another Lovecraft fan when I see one. Just wanted to say, "Iä!" and be off.
> 
> I'll probably return and give this a more critical look-through, but I definitely like the tone and narrative style of the piece. I didn't actually see that you stated Lovecraft as an influence until after I'd read it and devised that you were channeling Lovecraft, by the way. That's a very good thing.



Yes sir...I find myself drawn to Lovecraft over all of the other Horror writers I've read thus far. I'm not sure why, he's obviously not exactly the perfect example of a literary genius, but he pulls you in. I was watching the Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown documentary and they were reading some of his notes. One line was "I have my Dunsany pieces, my Poe pieces, but alas, where are my Lovecraft pieces?" I can relate to this feeling of the same derivative which he himself felt. 

This is more of a hobby for me, though I'm always trying to do my 100% best in every hobby I have, and I certainly do not approach this with a lackluster attitude. I just don't really care if my influence shines through like a sore thumb ha-ha! I've come to embrace the influence rather than shame away from it. Most people get hung up on not being original enough...pooey ha-ha! 



VampFact said:


> Looks like the start of a nice bit of yog sothothery. Keep at it!



Thank you! I actually have 2,756 words to this story already...but as I said it's under it's 3rd complete revision and the ending hasn't even been wrote yet. 

I am so envious of the names Lovecraft created that I almost crapped my shorts when Nanzagoth came to my mind. I felt complete at that moment ha-ha! However, Yog-Sothoth and Cthulu seem to be the epitome of titles for creatures of the netherworlds. 


Thanks again guys! I'm really surprised this received a compliment on the narrative...I really thought I would have been criticized for the style. It seems as if it's unorthodox and improper in comparison to most. I hear a lot of "it's wordy" when someone usually critiques my work...very well, but is it scary? Ha-ha!


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## Artanyis (Sep 12, 2012)

I love my Lovecraft as well, just last Christmas I was gifted a complete works, and I love it, although now I have two of almost everything...

Anyway, only thing I notice,


> _...which now dwell upon this earth - creatures so hideous and malicious..._


A hyphen is used to show a nonstandard conjunction of words, or often direct concepts, like las-gun, short for laser gun.  Here this is not the case, here you are not conjoining 'earth' and 'creatures'.  That should simply be a comma or at most a semicolon if you want it to be two complete thoughts.  If you placed one further down you could use it as a segmental standard to show a hastily inserted thought or action.

Overall I quite enjoyed that and would like to read the rest when you get to posting it.  I do not think it is wordy, or scary, but there isn't much to go on yet.


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## Staff Deployment (Sep 12, 2012)

JackKnife said:


> Hyphenate between 'this earth' and 'creatures'.





Artanyis said:


> [The hyphen] should simply be a comma or at most a semicolon if you want it to be two complete thoughts.



Heh heh heh.



FleshEater said:


> I have concluded that mankind is nothing more than a minuscule speck, insignificant in its existence within a vast, endless universe. The common belief of a celestial realm, posing itself in a life hereafter, seems no longer plausible after what I have witnessed. I fear our species shall soon be acquainted with the same hopelessness which now afflicts my very being. We’re not alone, I know this now. There are far more superior life forms hiding themselves amongst the stars and the planets; they’re unworldly creatures that walk among us, hidden, disguised in human flesh and blood.



This is all good, and the tone channels Lovecraft effectively. However, you may be introducing the themes of the story too blatantly and too early outright; in Weird Fiction such as this the build-up and the atmosphere of the piece is vital, which is why old Howard-Phillips would often begin his stories with a description of the setting or of the situation the character has landed in. However, as a summation of the main themes you want to explore, this is very effective, so you should keep this segment on hand for later. One final issue is that, given that these eldritch abominations are as powerful and indifferent as you state, why would they take the form of a pathetic human? What uncanny purpose would it serve them to hide among us? Why would a human shapeshift into an ant and live in a hive if ants are insignificant?



FleshEater said:


> The information contained herein shall reveal the unearthly things, which now dwell upon this earth - creatures so hideous and malicious in their intent that I dare not speak of them. I have thus far, remained silent about those unworldly anomalies which I had discovered within the wooded mountains of the north. Now, it seems, I have been driven nearly clinically insane by my refusal to communicate the horrors which beseeched me on my travels. I imagine, once my silence is broken, that I shall be committed indefinitely. I alone have knowledge of these things, and the solitary confinement of that knowledge has tormented me endlessly. Persecution shall be welcomed with sheer alacrity if it means the resolution of this unrelenting burden.



Nitpicks: Choose either "nearly" or "clinically;" try to avoid double adverbs as they're tacky more often than not. I love the phrase, however, "I imagine, once my silence is broken, that I shall be committed indefinitely."

This second paragraph is much more effective as part of your introduction, though I would recommend bolstering it with other relevant details such as the main setting before-hand. This section reminds me of the introduction to The Shadow Over Innsmouth and Dagon, which is good because those are good stories. It may be a bit stereotypical to those who are very well-versed in Lovecraft, however, but that's certainly not an important issue at this stage.

Overall, the tone is good and I'd like to read more of this story.


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## FleshEater (Sep 12, 2012)

Okay...out with the hyphen, in with the semi-colon haha!

Dear friend, do you really want the story spoiled in 5 sentences? I'll make it well worthwhile as to why these things hide amongst us. As a hint this story was influenced by the Anglerfish.

See...the third paragraph, which follows the title "The Village" immediately gets to the setting. I realize you don't see what is following these two paragraphs immediately but the story takes off instantly after these two. I wanted someone reading this to be like, "wtf could possibly be so bad to find the existence of heaven absolutely arbitrary, and what type of things could cause this?"

I think the next paragraph is ready to go so I'll just post it up tomorrow...see how it works as a three paragraph intro?

I thank you for your comments, I just should have given more of the story haha! My fault!


EDIT: Added third paragraph tonight.


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## FleshEater (Sep 12, 2012)

Changes made; creatures was used far too often so I removed it completely.


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## JackKnife (Sep 12, 2012)

Artanyis said:


> A hyphen is used to show a nonstandard conjunction of words, or often direct concepts, like las-gun, short for laser gun.  Here this is not the case, here you are not conjoining 'earth' and 'creatures'.  That should simply be a comma or at most a semicolon if you want it to be two complete thoughts.  If you placed one further down you could use it as a segmental standard to show a hastily inserted thought or action.



A hyphen - or dash, I guess it's more properly called - can also be used to denote a list, replace parentheses, or sometimes to replace a colon. It is not solely used to hyphenate words. In most word processors, it parses into a double-dash automatically.


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## FleshEater (Sep 12, 2012)

Yes, the hyphenation that JackKnife offered I notice being used in that manner in older writings. Even Lovecraft used the hypen to denote a phrase as a side thought. Poe uses that tactic relentlessly!


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## Tiberius Baltar (Sep 13, 2012)

I don't know if your after people to pull your work apart or looking for people tell you your good but I have to say that within the first two sentences I found myself being dragged into a good story. I have quite a few prologues written myself and must admit that I find it hard to get past chapter two!

If your story continues the way you have set it out then apart from the nit picking of grammar you really needn't worry. Your writing is easily read and the sentences flow naturally. I liked it


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## FleshEater (Sep 13, 2012)

Thanks Tiberius Baltar! I wouldn't say I'm looking for compliments or my work to be pulled apart, but rather honest opinions and critiques that take into consideration the style. 

The rest of the story is what I'm trying to "perfect"; it's got a solid foundation I believe but working out the bugs is a bit tiring. Since I changed this from a "suicide note" to a "re-telling" it has become much easier to elaborate on this story.


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## Tiberius Baltar (Sep 13, 2012)

Well keep up the good work! I enjoyed to brief intro and I hope you get it finished because there is nothing more infuriating than having a good story just dwindle away from you. Best of luck!


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## Galarath (Sep 14, 2012)

I was quite drawn into the story too. Aside from the small punctuation issues mentioned, you have something good there. Well done and I look forward to reading more.


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## FleshEater (Sep 18, 2012)

*Update...*

I'm posting a draft of the first part of my Nanzagoth story. The ending of this first part still has some "bugs" to be worked out in it and in that process of endless editing it may change slightly. However, I was hoping to get some more feedback on my progress to see if I'm heading in the right direction. You guys really helped out in the first 2 paragraphs so I'll definitely be looking forward to the comments concerning a greater body of the work. First two paragraphs will be included in this post so that the entirety of the story maybe read in one post. 

Please let me know what you think of this story thus far. I feel as if the last 2-4 paragraphs could use some work; let me know if you feel the same. 

Thanks! Enjoy!

“*Nanzagoth”
*By Matthew A. Campbell
​I have concluded that mankind is nothing more than a minuscule speck, insignificant in its existence within a vast, endless universe. The common belief of a celestial realm, posing itself in a life hereafter, seems no longer plausible after what I have witnessed. I fear our species shall soon be acquainted with the same hopelessness which now afflicts my very being. We’re not alone; I know this now. There are far more superior life forms hiding themselves amongst the stars and the planets. They’re unworldly creatures that walk among us, hidden, disguised in human flesh and blood.

The information contained herein shall reveal the unearthly _things_, which now dwell upon this earth, which are so hideous and malicious in their intent that I dare not speak of them. I have thus far, remained silent about those unworldly anomalies which I had discovered within the wooded mountains of the north. Now, it seems, I have been driven nearly insane by my refusal to communicate the horrors which beseeched me on my travels. I imagine, once my silence is broken, that I shall be committed indefinitely. I alone have knowledge of these _things_, and the solitary confinement of that knowledge has tormented me endlessly. Persecution shall be welcomed with sheer alacrity if it means the resolution of this unrelenting burden.

My search of literary inspiration is what led me to the small village of Carthage. I intended to spend the remaining months of the year, confined to the desolate solitude of the vast, northern most regions of the Appalachian Mountains. I believed that residing in utter seclusion would offer the appropriate peace and tranquility needed to finish my work. This small village would be the last sign of humanity before I ventured into the far reaches of the uninhabited wilderness. I had planned to spend only a few days in Carthage; in search of a place of rest and to replenish diminished supplies. However, I knew not of the impending doom, nor of the deadly confinement awaiting me in that damnable place.

The Village

I had traveled many miles through the treacherous Appalachia terrain before reaching the crest of the White Mountains. As I stood atop the colossal mass of earth, I could vaguely discern the minute existence of humanity residing below, nestled deeply within. A faint mist presided over the vale, draping all that lain beneath it in a dreary, uncanny haze. The vast range of surrounding prodigious earth, casted its shadow over the entirety of the valley, seemingly hiding the village of Carthage amidst a sea of darkness. The view beset before me, entranced my mind in fantastic wonders, seducing in its greatness; enticing the imaginative artistry of a macabre god. 

I saturated my lungs in the wonders of that atmosphere, inhaling a zephyr of cool September air, which rushed over my face as I rode my horse along the mountain trail. The scent of autumn trailed carelessly behind, its notable aroma enthralled and permeated my senses. The mountainous foliage bathed the landscape in waves of beautiful, flourishing greenery, which flowed exuberantly with life and vitality. Nothing of the forthcoming cold weather could be hinted in the slightest amongst this celestial portrayal of scenery. It was utterly magnificent, a spectacle to behold. ​
Though the beauty of this seeming perfection in nature nourished the senses; there was an eerie tinge of insidious serenity, which encapsulated me as I looked upon the wooded land. There was something brooding within this natural elegance. A peculiar sense of stillness seemed to haunt these mountains. The wild life appeared devoid, as if it had retired to hibernation, or that it altogether ceased to exist. I much expected the forests to clamor wildly in harmonious song, but instead received only silence from the mountains vacancy. The mere sound of my horse, breaking branches and disturbing the earth, resounded like a death rattle amongst the emptiness as I made my descent.

As I traversed further down the steep, harsh mountainside, I noticed the air growing heavier, dampening my clothes as droplets of dew formed about the brim of my fedora. The mountain floor was shrouded in a dense, murky fog, which relinquished to the eye only a faint silhouette of outlined cottages. At the very sight of this nearing destination, an unrelenting and wild aggression was incited within my horse. The beast reared back violently, nearly knocking me to the ground. Such a display of animosity induced an unnerving feeling within my very being. I should have heeded the warning which the animal so vehemently delivered, but instead I cursed at his unruliness as I battled his stubbornness. After what had seemed many minutes, I had regained control of the steed. However, I do not believe the animal trusted my guidance nor even obeyed my strict words; instead I fear that something much more powerful, something sinister, had commanded his will. 

The village lain less than a mile from the base of the mountain. Though the looming fog, which cast a dim hue of grey over the village, had made it appear much further. The bottom of this mountainous vale was wholly different from that of the high peaks above. That wonderful, though silent landscape, which had first impressed my senses was absolutely devoid in this lower region. There was no flourishing greenery, no life or vitality; there was nothing, but barren earth. It was a portrait which mimicked death and depravity in a jesting manner; the artistry of a truly decadent, fallen god. 

A shrill shiver crept down my spine as I made my way along the pathway to the village. The trail led me to an immense tunnel of grotesquely twisted trees, whose bare branches intertwined together in menacing gestures. These were the bane of life amongst the earth beneath, as the dense cloud of limbs omitted all light, giving way only to darkness. Never before had I seen such a display of morbidity within the natural realm. Lying on either side was a waterway acting as a barbaric moat. This was the only way, the corridor into the unknown; into the seeming apparition of life, into the abysmal fog. 

This horrific display of decrepitude had unsettled me greatly. My horse, however, seemed eerily complacent, as if he previously had not been stricken with sheer terror from the very sight of this hellish place. As I entered the tunnel, all that could be heard was the pounding of my pulse within my head, and the heavy breathing of the steed beneath me. The silence that filled this dark, dank channel, created a chilling, ghostly emptiness. The opposing side of the passage gave way to a hole of sullenly illuminated mist, which grew larger as the seconds passed. Still, the ride through the odd tunnel of hideous growth, seemed to last an eternity.

The nightmarish realm opened to the entrance of the village. Peering through that damned, omnipresent fog, the dilapidated cottages and the vileness within the streets could vaguely be seen. The village seemingly modeled a long lost civilization of ruin, appearing as if it had been abandoned for decades.

My horse’s hooves clapped and echoed through the hollow, empty, stone streets as I slowly made my way forward. The further I traversed within, the more pronounced the details of the ruin became. The windows and doors of many dwellings had been destroyed, or all together left open. Fences that had previously held livestock were rendered useless, their gates hung freely in the still air. Bridles hung vacant from the wooden posts which had once secured the animals that had worn them. The village was completely deserted, abandoned by any and all things living. That same haunting stillness, which plagued the surrounding mountains, now lingered amidst this empty, desolate place.

An unearthly, grayish slime, which littered the cottages with its filth, became ever more apparent as I traveled deeper into the dismal ruin. It had been strewn about the streets and dwellings in a manner characteristically associated with the webbing of arachnids. The thick, black webbing hung freely, like grotesque tinsel, decorating the town in a horrific fashion. The excrement appeared to possess an oily, smooth texture to it and emitted a fetid, rotten odor. I had never seen nor read of anything like it before. Whatever creature this atrocity was born, it was surely not of this world. This _thing_ had apparently wiped out the inhabitants of this valley, and would soon find more civilizations to prey upon. Monstrosities such as this existed only in the realm of fiction; though there I stood, gazing upon the fictional beasts creation. 

I stared aimlessly into the desolate world, hopelessly lost in the damnation, which formed itself in ways man had never seen. The evidence of mankind's future, sprawled itself across the mountain vale before me, it was unfathomable but absolute.


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## Namba (Sep 18, 2012)

You know, I dig a good narrative. I honestly can't wait for this to be completed because you definitely managed to grab my attention. Hope to see more soon.


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## FleshEater (Sep 19, 2012)

Re-reading it this morning I realized the redundancy of the fog...I need to delete some lines mentioning it haha!


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## Tiberius Baltar (Sep 19, 2012)

The Village
​
I had traveled many miles through the treacherous Appalachia terrain before reaching the crest of the White Mountains. As I stood atop the colossal mass of earth, I could vaguely discern the minute existence of humanity residing below,*nestled deeply within.*A faint mist presided over the vale, draping all that lain beneath it in a dreary, uncanny haze. The vast range of surrounding prodigious earth,*casted its shadow*over the entirety of the valley, seemingly hiding the village of Carthage amidst a sea of darkness. The view beset before me, entranced my mind in fantastic wonders, seducing in its greatness; enticing the imaginative artistry of a macabre god. 


These are just two little things I felt needed looking at. The "nestled deeply within" doesn't seem to read right to me, I don't know why but I feel there should be another word or words to finish this off? For example; "nestled deeply within the folding arms of the mountain" or something of the sort."casted" it's shadow doesn't sound right either, I think it should be "cast" I don't think "casted" should be before "shadow" something to do with past and present tense but I'm pretty sure it needs changing. 

God I hate not being able to articulate my ideas with actual real technical terms!!


​Mike.

​


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## FleshEater (Sep 19, 2012)

Those were two spots that also bothered me. I couldn't think of anything to portray the idea of the village being in the mountains grasp so to speak. I'll work those out for sure...I thought those would suffice but should have known better.


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## Tiberius Baltar (Sep 19, 2012)

FleshEater said:


> Those were two spots that also bothered me. I couldn't think of anything to portray the idea of the village being in the mountains grasp so to speak. I'll work those out for sure...I thought those would suffice but should have known better.




As long as you don't think I'm picking things out needlessly, I only want to help spot things that might have slipped by you. It reads really well and I would definitely read more so keep it up and hopefully you will have a complete story!


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## FleshEater (Sep 19, 2012)

Tiberius Baltar said:


> As long as you don't think I'm picking things out needlessly, I only want to help spot things that might have slipped by you. It reads really well and I would definitely read more so keep it up and hopefully you will have a complete story!



In no way do I think that. I want people to pick this apart; especially since I've learned to embrace criticism rather than shame from it. 

The story is actually nearly finished on paper and completely in my head. I just haven't drafted the latter part 45 times over hahaha!


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## Nemesis (Sep 19, 2012)

> I have concluded that mankind is nothing more than a minuscule speck, insignificant in its existence within a vast, endless universe. The common belief of a celestial realm, posing itself in a life hereafter, seems no longer plausible after what I have witnessed. I fear our species shall soon be acquainted with the same hopelessness which now afflicts my very being. We’re not alone; I know this now. There are far more superior life forms hiding themselves amongst the stars and the planets. They’re unworldly creatures that walk among us, hidden, disguised in human flesh and blood.


(I like this, it’s a good set up, very Lovecraftian)






> The information contained herein shall reveal the unearthly _things_, which now dwell upon this earth, which are so hideous and malicious in their intent that I dare not speak of them. I have thus far, remained silent about those unworldly anomalies which I had discovered within the wooded mountains of the north. Now, it seems, I have been driven nearly insane by my refusal to communicate the horrors which beseeched me on my travels. I imagine, once my silence is broken, that I shall be committed indefinitely. I alone have knowledge of these _things_, and the solitary confinement of that knowledge has tormented me endlessly. Persecution shall be welcomed with sheer alacrity if it means the resolution of this unrelenting burden.


I can definitely see the influence, obviously you are a fan. However, this sounds eerily similar to the opening of one of Lovecraft’s works. (Though generally they tend to start in the same manner)  


> My search of literary inspiration is what led me to the small village of Carthage. I intended to spend the remaining months of the year, confined to the desolate solitude of the vast, northern most regions of the Appalachian Mountains. I believed that residing in utter seclusion would offer the appropriate peace and tranquility needed to finish my work. This small village would be the last sign of humanity before I ventured into the far reaches of the uninhabited wilderness. I had planned to spend only a few days in Carthage; in search of a place of rest and to replenish diminished supplies. However, I knew not of the impending doom, nor of the deadly confinement awaiting me in that damnable place.


 
Again I am struck, feeling as if I’ve read this before. 


But then you bring to me the meat of the piece and it sure was tasty. A very pretty read, I don't have any suggestion because it flowed so well. Nice imagery, didn't quite give me the creeps yet, but i enjoyed it immensely, and once the prologue of sorts was done the de je vu feeling went away.​


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## FleshEater (Sep 19, 2012)

Thanks Noxicity! I would probably find the beginning unsettling if I were striving for some originality....however, saying that reminds you of Lovecraft is a huge compliment for me hahaha! I look at those entry paragraphs as a tribute to probably my most influential inspiration. 

I don't really like this story, but I will finish it.


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## FleshEater (Sep 21, 2012)

Noxicity; I'm rather perturbed by something in your response. Can you possibly tell me what was lacking? I was hoping to give off at least a slight bit of creepiness with the explanation of the village, but see I failed to stimulate any hint of "scariness" ha-ha! I took a shot at being creepy and ended up with the comment of "pretty" ha-ha! 

I'm currently re-writing, or rather adding a lot more to the description of the village. Hopefully these added bits will incite some sort of eerie feeling within the reader. But if you could (Noxicity) explain why you didn't feel any impending doom (so to speak) I'd greatly appreciate it. 

Thanks!


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## Nemesis (Sep 21, 2012)

Well nothing scary happened. The horror in Lovecrafts work was always when he revealed the monster or God or horrible thing that happened. The imagery is good, empty village competely decrepit and covered in icky stuff, but without that lynch pin to send us into madness it doesn't come off a frightening.


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## FleshEater (Sep 21, 2012)

Ah-ha! Very good...well, then I think the newest edit of "The Village" part might be just enough to incite a slight bit of creepiness within. 

I'll try and do a quick edit, just to make sure that I am actually happy with The Village section, and post up a new draft.


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## FleshEater (Sep 21, 2012)

*Nanzagoth; "The Village" Rewrite...*

The latter half of this new revision has only had one or two reviews (done by me). I probably won't make too many more drastic changes to the section of "The Village" but will note any that are made with the posting of the following section "The Inn" (which is still being produced, or rather reproduced). 

Also, I went through the entire thing and changed a few lines or added a few lines here and there (if you were wondering if re-reading those previous lines would hold any new format). 

Please share your thoughts on this revised piece as well; I greatly appreciate the comments I received from my last posting. 

*“Nanzagoth”*
By Matthew A. Campbell​
I have concluded that mankind is nothing more than a minuscule speck, insignificant in its existence within a vast, endless universe. The common belief of a celestial realm, posing itself in a life hereafter, seems no longer plausible after what I have witnessed. I fear our species shall soon be acquainted with the same hopelessness which now afflicts my very being. We’re not alone; I know this now. There are far more superior life forms hiding themselves amongst the stars and the planets. They’re unworldly creatures that walk among us, hidden, disguised in human flesh and blood.

The information contained herein shall reveal the unearthly things, which now dwell upon this earth, which are so hideous and malicious in their intent that I dare not speak of them. I have thus far, remained silent about those unworldly anomalies which I had discovered within the wooded mountains of the north. Now, it seems, I have been driven nearly insane by my refusal to communicate the horrors which beseeched me on my travels. I imagine, once my silence is broken, that I shall be committed indefinitely. I alone have knowledge of these things, and the solitary confinement of that knowledge has tormented me perpetually. Persecution shall be welcomed with sheer alacrity if it means the resolution of this unrelenting burden.

My search of literary inspiration is what led me to the small village of Carthage. I intended to spend the remaining months of the year, confined to the desolate solitude of the northern most regions of the Appalachian Mountains. I had hoped that residing in utter seclusion would offer the appropriate peace and tranquility needed to finish my work. This small village would be the last sign of humanity before I ventured into the far reaches of the uninhabited wilderness. I had planned to spend only a few days in Carthage, in search of a place to rest and to replenish diminished supplies. However, I knew not of the impending doom, nor of the deadly confinement awaiting me in that damnable place.

The Village​
I had traveled many miles through the treacherous Appalachia terrain before reaching the crest of the White Mountains. As I stood atop the colossal mass of earth, I could vaguely discern the minute presence of humanity residing below, nestled deeply within the mountains womb. A mist presided over the vale, draping all that lain beneath it in a dreary, uncanny haze. The vast range of surrounding prodigious earth, cast its shadow over the entirety of the valley, seemingly hiding the village of Carthage amidst a sea of darkness. Luminous trails of dawning light shone through the foliage on either side of the land mass, its radiance danced upon the miasmatic cloud below, dispersing its reflection wildly. The view beset before me, entranced my mind in fantastic wonders, seducing in its greatness; enticing the imaginative artistry of divinity. 

I saturated my lungs in the wonders of that atmosphere, inhaling a zephyr of cool September air, which rushed over my face as I rode my horse along the mountain path. Autumn’s scent trailed carelessly behind, its notable aroma enthralled and permeated my senses. The mountainous frondescence bathed the landscape in waves of beautiful, flourishing greenery, which flowed exuberantly with life and vitality. The forthcoming cold weather could not be hinted in the slightest amongst this celestial portrayal of scenery. It was an utterly magnificent spectacle to behold.

Though the beauty of this seeming perfection in nature nourished the senses; there was an eerie tinge of insidious serenity, which encapsulated me as I looked upon the wooded land. There was something brooding within this natural elegance. A peculiar sense of stillness seemed to haunt these mountains. The wild life appeared devoid, as if it had retired to hibernation, or that it altogether ceased to exist. I much expected the forests to clamor wildly in harmonious song, but instead received only silence from the mountains vacancy. The mere sound of my horse, breaking branches and disturbing the earth, resounded like a death rattle amongst the emptiness as I made my descent.

Traversing further down the steep, harsh mountainside, I noticed the air growing heavier, dampening my clothes as droplets of dew formed about the brim of my fedora. The mountain floor was shrouded in a dense, murky fog, which relinquished to the eye only a faint silhouette of outlined cottages. At the very sight of this nearing destination, an unrelenting and wild aggression was incited within my horse. The beast reared back violently, nearly knocking me to the ground. Such a display of animosity induced an unnerving feeling within my very being. I should have heeded the warning which the animal so vehemently delivered, but instead I cursed at his unruliness as I battled his stubbornness. After what had seemed many minutes, I had regained control of the steed. However, I do not believe the animal trusted my guidance nor even obeyed my strict words; instead I fear that something much more powerful, something sinister, had commanded his will.

The village lain less than a mile from the base of the mountain. Though the looming fog, which cast a dim hue of grey over the village, had made it appear much further. The bottom of this mountainous vale was wholly different from that of the high peaks above. That wonderful, though silent landscape, which had first impressed my senses was absolutely devoid in this lower region. There was no flourishing greenery, no life or vitality; there was nothing, but barren earth. It was a portrait which mimicked death and depravity in a jesting manner; the artistry of a truly decadent, fallen god.

A shrill shiver crept down my spine as I made my way along the pathway to the village. The trail led me to an immense tunnel of grotesquely twisted trees, whose bare branches intertwined together in menacing gestures. These were the bane of life amongst the earth beneath, as the dense cloud of limbs omitted all light, giving way only to darkness. Never before had I seen such a display of morbidity within the natural realm. Lying on either side was a waterway acting as a barbaric moat. This was the only way, the corridor of the unknown; into the seeming apparition of life, into the abysmal fog.

This horrific display of decrepitude had unsettled me greatly. My horse, however, seemed eerily complacent, as if he previously had not been stricken with sheer terror from the very sight of this hellish place. As I entered the tunnel, all that could be heard was the pounding of my pulse within my head, and the heavy breathing of the steed beneath me. The silence that filled this dark, dank channel, created a chilling, ghostly emptiness. The opposing side of the passage gave way to a hole of sullenly illuminated mist, which grew larger as the seconds passed. Still, the ride through the odd tunnel of hideous growth, seemed to last an eternity.

The nightmarish realm opened to the entrance of the village. Peering through that damned, omnipresent fog, the dilapidated cottages and the vileness within the streets could vaguely be seen. The village seemingly modeled a long lost civilization of ruin, appearing as if it had been abandoned for decades.

My horse’s hooves clapped and echoed through the hollow, empty, stone streets as I slowly made my way forward. The village was comprised of narrow byways that navigated throughout in a winding, almost serpentine like manner. The further I traversed within, the more pronounced the details of this ruin became. The windows and doors of many dwellings had been destroyed, or all together left open. Fences that had previously held livestock were rendered useless, their gates hung freely in the still air. Bridles hung vacant from the wooden posts which had once secured the animals that had worn them. The village was completely deserted, abandoned by any and all things living. That same haunting stillness, which plagued the surrounding mountains, now lingered amidst this empty, desolate place.

An unearthly slime, littered the cottages with its filth, and became ever more apparent as I traveled further into the dismal ruin. It had been strewn about the streets and dwellings in a manner characteristically associated with the webbing of arachnids. The thick, black webbing hung freely, like grotesque tinsel, decorating the town in a horrific fashion. The excrement appeared to possess an oily, smooth texture to it and emitted a fetid, rotten odor. I had never seen nor read of anything like it before. Whatever creature this atrocity was born, it was surely not of this world. 

I continued to follow the most prominent street, making my way onward through the ruination. On either side, a cascade of desecrated dwellings littered the earth, and the black spatial webbing became denser as I ventured deeper within. This ever growing veil of hideousness scattered above me like a thunderstorm forming at the brink of twilight. It was nearing noon and the sun had risen far above the mountain floor, yet this hellish place remained a dull, sullen hue of nimbus grey. 

Peering ahead through the dark, thick air I could see the endless blackness shrouding the entirety of the sky above. A church resided in the near distance, and its steeple ascended into the abyss. The house of divinity stood erect in the center of the village acting as the apex of the cataclysmic cobweb. All roads led to this church, which resided on a circular plot of ground. The irony of the webbing spewing forth from this building, much like that of the byways, struck me as oddly peculiar; as if the monstrosity possessed an intelligence comparable, if not superior, to that of man. 

Sitting upon my horse, I looked above to the staggering steeple and the alien-like substance, which wrapped and whorled its morbid entanglement about its peak. The cobweb was spun in all directions, sprawling itself in a maddening descent towards the village. Below the steeple there hung an inverted crucifix, the black webbing suspended from it mockingly. I shuddered at the thought of this devilment being carried forth with purpose, the _thing_ blatantly exposing our inferiority. As I gazed upon the scene of the church in utter bewilderment my eyes befell the most atrocious display of all. Lining the church yard were rows of entombed bodies. The vague gestures in which they lay were the only evidence I had to assume they were human cadavers. 

They were encased, or rather mummified in the arachnid-like excrement. It was wound tightly up to the neck. What I saw protruding from above the coffin-like cocoons resembled nothing of human facial expression. Flesh and tissue were absolutely devoid; their skulls were twisted in a gesture of manufactured fright, of bone that seemed to have been melted and sculpted. Those mangled faces of men, women and children laid there before their house of worship, their agony befalling their mocked God and I stood over them, drowning in sorrow, praying to join them in eternal slumber. 

I stared aimlessly into that desolate world, despondently lost in the damnation, which formed itself in ways man had never seen. The evidence of mankind's future unveiled itself within the mountain vale before me, it was unfathomable but absolute. There was no sanctity here, no salvation from my toiling travels, only death.


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## Tiberius Baltar (Sep 21, 2012)

It's reading much better. Job well done :applause:


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## Nemesis (Sep 21, 2012)

There you go! Nothing like piles of dead bodies and an unseen horror to add some scariness.


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## FleshEater (Sep 21, 2012)

Thank you Tiberius...I felt that I needed to slow the pace and take some time to go more in depth with the village. Coming across the church I felt would help tie in a bit more terror or dread into the story which was much needed. I'm looking forward to what Noxicity has to say about it. 

This could possibly still use some more time spent within the village before "The Inn" but I'll need some time away from it before I decide for sure.


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## FleshEater (Sep 21, 2012)

Posted along side you Noxicity; thank you! You're right...I need a build up, like a grand opus for this monster!


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## FleshEater (Sep 28, 2012)

*Nanzagoth: "The Inn"*

For those of you that read "The Village" I have finally managed to create a "first draft" of the following part; "The Inn". As always, any recommendations and honest opinions are more than welcome. 

I'll be working on the third installment in the weeks to come. Hopefully this doesn't exceed 5,000 words...I never intended it to be as long as it is ha-ha!

Again; I'm posting this in it's entirety for the convenience of those that might read it all. 

*“Nanzagoth”*
By Matthew A. Campbell​
I have concluded that mankind is nothing more than a minuscule speck, insignificant in its existence within a vast, endless universe. The common belief of a celestial realm, posing itself in a life hereafter, seems no longer plausible after what I have witnessed. I fear our species shall soon be acquainted with the same hopelessness which now afflicts my very being. We’re not alone; I know this now. There are far more superior life forms hiding themselves amongst the stars and the planets. They’re unworldly creatures that walk among us, hidden, disguised in human flesh and blood.

The information contained herein shall reveal the unearthly things, which now dwell upon this earth, which are so hideous and malicious in their intent that I dare not speak of them. I have thus far, remained silent about those unworldly anomalies which I had discovered within the wooded mountains of the north. Now, it seems, I have been driven nearly insane by my refusal to communicate the horrors which beseeched me on my travels. I imagine, once my silence is broken, that I shall be committed indefinitely. I alone have knowledge of these things, and the solitary confinement of that knowledge has tormented me perpetually. Persecution shall be welcomed with sheer alacrity if it means the resolution of this unrelenting burden.

My search of literary inspiration is what led me to the small village of Carthage. I intended to spend the remaining months of the year, confined to the desolate solitude of the northern most regions of the Appalachian Mountains. I had hoped that residing in utter seclusion would offer the appropriate peace and tranquility needed to finish my work. This small village would be the last sign of humanity before I ventured into the far reaches of the uninhabited wilderness. I had planned to spend only a few days in Carthage, in search of a place to rest and to replenish diminished supplies. However, I knew not of the impending doom, nor of the deadly confinement awaiting me in that damnable place.

*The Village*​
I had traveled many miles through the treacherous Appalachia terrain before reaching the crest of the White Mountains. As I stood atop the colossal mass of earth, I could vaguely discern the minute presence of humanity residing below, nestled deeply within the mountains womb. A mist presided over the vale, draping all that lain beneath it in a dreary, uncanny haze. The vast range of surrounding prodigious earth, cast its shadow over the entirety of the valley, seemingly hiding the village of Carthage amidst a sea of darkness. Luminous trails of dawning light shone through the foliage on either side of the land mass, its radiance danced upon the miasmatic cloud below, dispersing its reflection wildly. The view beset before me, entranced my mind in fantastic wonders, seducing in its greatness; enticing the imaginative artistry of divinity.

My lungs saturated in the wonders of that atmosphere, inhaling a zephyr of cool September air, which rushed over my face as I rode my horse along the mountain path. Autumn’s scent trailed carelessly behind, its notable aroma enthralled and permeated my senses. The mountainous frondescence bathed the landscape in waves of beautiful, flourishing greenery, which flowed exuberantly with life and vitality. The forthcoming cold weather could not be hinted in the slightest amongst this celestial portrayal of scenery. It was an utterly magnificent spectacle to behold.

Though the beauty of this seeming perfection in nature nourished the senses; there was an eerie tinge of insidious serenity, which encapsulated me as I looked upon the wooded land. There was something brooding within this natural elegance. A peculiar sense of stillness seemed to haunt these mountains. The wild life appeared devoid, as if it had retired to hibernation, or that it altogether ceased to exist. I much expected the forests to clamor wildly in harmonious song, but instead received only silence from the mountains vacancy. The mere sound of my horse, breaking branches and disturbing the earth, resounded like a death rattle amongst the emptiness as I made my descent.

Traversing further down the steep, harsh mountainside, I noticed the air growing heavier, dampening my clothes as droplets of dew formed about the brim of my fedora. The mountain floor was shrouded in a dense, murky fog, which relinquished to the eye only a faint silhouette of outlined cottages. At the very sight of this nearing destination, an unrelenting and wild aggression was incited within my horse. The beast reared back violently, nearly knocking me to the ground. Such a display of animosity induced an unnerving feeling within my very being. I should have heeded the warning which the animal so vehemently delivered, but instead I cursed at his unruliness as I battled his stubbornness. After what had seemed many minutes, I had regained control of the steed. However, I do not believe the animal trusted my guidance nor even obeyed my strict words; instead I fear that something much more powerful, something sinister, had commanded his will.

The village lain less than a mile from the base of the mountain. Though the looming fog, which cast a dim hue of grey over the village, had made it appear much further. The bottom of this mountainous vale was wholly different from that of the high peaks above. That wonderful, though silent landscape, which had first impressed my senses was absolutely devoid in this lower region. There was no flourishing greenery, no life or vitality; there was nothing, but barren earth. It was a portrait which mimicked death and depravity in a jesting manner; the artistry of a truly decadent, fallen god.

A shrill shiver crept down my spine as I made my way along the pathway to the village. The trail led me to an immense tunnel of grotesquely twisted trees, whose bare branches intertwined together in menacing gestures. These were the bane of life amongst the earth beneath, as the dense cloud of limbs omitted all light, giving way only to darkness. Never before had I seen such a display of morbidity within the natural realm. Lying on either side was a waterway acting as a barbaric moat. This was the only way, the corridor of the unknown; into the seeming apparition of life, into the abysmal fog.

This horrific display of decrepitude had unsettled me greatly. My horse, however, seemed eerily complacent, as if he previously had not been stricken with sheer terror from the very sight of this hellish place. As I entered the tunnel, all that could be heard was the pounding of my pulse within my head, and the heavy breathing of the steed beneath me. The silence that filled this dark, dank channel, created a chilling, ghostly emptiness. The opposing side of the passage gave way to a hole of sullenly illuminated mist, which grew larger as the seconds passed. Still, the ride through the odd tunnel of hideous growth, seemed to last an eternity.

The nightmarish realm opened to the entrance of the village. Peering through that damned, omnipresent fog, the dilapidated cottages and the vileness within the streets could vaguely be seen. The village seemingly modeled a long lost civilization of ruin, appearing as if it had been abandoned for decades.

My horse’s hooves clapped and echoed through the hollow, empty, stone streets as I slowly made my way forward. The village was comprised of narrow byways that navigated throughout in a winding, almost serpentine like manner. The further I traversed within, the more pronounced the details of this ruin became. The windows and doors of many dwellings had been destroyed, or all together left open. Fences that had previously held livestock were rendered useless, their gates hung freely in the still air. Bridles hung vacant from the wooden posts which had once secured the animals that had worn them. The village was completely deserted, abandoned by any and all things living. That same haunting stillness, which plagued the surrounding mountains, now lingered amidst this empty, desolate place.

An unearthly slime, littered the cottages with its filth, and became ever more apparent as I traveled further into the dismal ruin. It had been strewn about the streets and dwellings in a manner characteristically associated with the webbing of arachnids. The thick, black webbing hung freely, like grotesque tinsel, decorating the town in a horrific fashion. The excrement appeared to possess an oily, smooth texture to it and emitted a fetid, rotten odor. I had never seen nor read of anything like it before. Whatever creature this atrocity was born, it was surely not of this world.

I continued to follow the most prominent street, making my way onward through the ruination. On either side, a cascade of desecrated dwellings littered the earth, and the black spatial webbing became denser as I ventured deeper within. This ever growing veil of hideousness scattered above me like a thunderstorm forming at the brink of twilight. It was nearing noon and the sun had risen far above the mountain floor, yet this hellish place remained a dull, sullen hue of nimbus grey.

Peering ahead through the dark, thick air I could see the endless blackness shrouding the entirety of the sky above. A church resided in the near distance, and its steeple ascended into the abyss. The house of divinity stood erect in the center of the village acting as the apex of the cataclysmic cobweb. All roads led to this church, which resided on a circular plot of ground. The irony of the webbing spewing forth from this building, much like that of the byways, struck me as oddly peculiar; as if the monstrosity possessed an intelligence comparable, if not superior, to that of man.

Sitting upon my horse, I looked above to the staggering steeple and the alien-like substance, which wrapped and whorled its morbid entanglement about its peak. The cobweb was spun in all directions, sprawling itself in a maddening descent towards the village. Below the steeple there hung an inverted crucifix, the black webbing suspended from it mockingly. I shuddered at the thought of this devilment being carried forth with purpose, the thing blatantly exposing our inferiority. As I gazed upon the scene of the church in utter bewilderment my eyes befell the most atrocious display of all. Lining the church yard were rows of entombed bodies. The vague gestures in which they lay were the only evidence I had to assume they were human cadavers.

They were encased, or rather mummified in the arachnid-like excrement. It was wound tightly up to the neck. What I saw protruding from above the coffin-like cocoons resembled nothing of human facial expression. Flesh and tissue were absolutely devoid; their skulls were twisted in a gesture of manufactured fright, of bone that seemed to have been melted and sculpted. Those mangled faces of men, women and children laid there before their house of worship, their agony befalling their mocked God and I stood over them, drowning in sorrow, praying to join them in eternal slumber.

I stared aimlessly into that desolate, daemonic world, despondently lost in the damnation, which formed itself in ways man had never seen. The evidence of mankind's future unveiled itself within the mountain vale before me, it was unfathomable but absolute. There was no sanctity here, no salvation from my toiling travels, only death.

*The Inn*​
I turned my horse away from the detestable scene of atrocity, to rid my eyes of the awful sight that lain before me in the church yard. As I traversed onward, the steady gait of my horse resounded tumultuously, pummeling through the deadened silence of the encompassing devastation. The incessant “click, clack” of the steeds hooves hammered away, mercilessly pounding the macabre portraits, which screamed in agony and tortuous fright, deeper into my mind’s eye. Desperate attempts to cleanse my thoughts of those distorted putrid faces of the cocooned dead, which corrupted and haunted my vision, were all made in vain.

The sun had begun to descend slowly beneath the western mountainside, its luminous salvation washed into the beyond like waves of the sea. The still, moist air which lingered within the infernal crevasse fell cold as the twilight approached, and the mountains cast their omissible shadows ever further.

I felt my body shiver as my damp clothing chilled my skin. The dreadful thought of having to see the night through in this accursed place ravished my mind in terrifying wonders. An attempt, under the cover of night, to ascend the steep and treacherous mountainside would certainly prove as fatal as the threat of hypothermia, or that of encountering the unknown thing which desecrated this village. This nightmarish reality that had befallen this valley rendered my spirit of all hope, creating a void of darkness within me as I roamed an empty town; cold, starving and tired.

It was upon reaching this dismal deduction that the quarters of the local inn had become apparent. It was nestled behind a row of dilapidated cottages that followed the most prominent byway. The building had appeared vacant, abandoned, and miraculously seemed to suffer the least amount of violation. Its high peaks seemed to stagger themselves in a Georgian manner, which set it drastically apart from the dreary and dull architecture of the surrounding village.

I approached the inn precariously, dreading the possible discovery of more cocooned denizens. Fragments of the arachnid webbing scarcely littered the face of the building. The doors had remained shut though most of the windows had been broken out. A peculiar mass of substance laid hanging from one of the shattered panes adjacent to the front entryway. It appeared to be a trail of inhuman internal organs that had been ripped from the cavity of the creature’s abdomen. The trail of disembowelment led off through the inn's yard and into the wooded landscape. I concluded that this had been a retreat rather than an effort of refuge and that the thing which suffered the infliction had long since fled.

Without wasting time I dismounted my horse and retrieved the revolver from my belt holster. The last dying rays of the sun were gleaming upon the building, just above the lower floor’s windows, acting as the sole means by which I could find my way through the inn. With hammer drawn, I slowly rolled the handle of the entry way door and pushed it open. The interior shewn signs of a maddening struggle: debris and furnishings laid scattered about the lower floor, large holes gaped wide open and pieces of the structure were wholly devoid throughout. It was as if humanity strove for a last stand in this monumental place, which left it ravished like a battle field lacking the gruesome piles of the recently departed.

A musty, blood tinged odor penetrated my nostrils as I stepped inside. The disheveled scenery emitted rancidness similar to that of the creature's webbing. My exhaustion served to ease my discomfort of the rotten atmosphere but failed to alleviate much of my trepidation. I led my horse in through the large entrance to conceal our presence. As I tied the bridle to the railing in the lobby, a small shadow darted across the wall.

I reeled around to expose the barrel of my revolver. My hands shook tremulously as a cold sweat broke upon my brow. I had believed this entire village to be utterly devoid of life, but the mere glimpse of the shadow had stricken me in frenzied panic, nearly ceasing the beating of my heart. I peered through the dimly lit interior as I proceeded forward slowly. My clasp on the revolver tightened, my breathing grew more intense and the beating of my heart pounded like a war drum inside of my head. Something moved and I heard faintly, a rustling coming from within the darkened corner. I stood, frozen, as the absoluteness of sheer horror overpowered my being. That incessant, deafening rapping within the confines of my head seemed to be the only indication that I was in fact still alive. In an instant the thing stirred again; this time backing itself deeper into the shadows away from me.

Though my mind raced in maniacal confusion, I knew better than to let an aimless shot resound throughout this empty village. If more creatures still existed within this valley they would surely come in search of more prey, tracking the echoing sound of the pistol. That’s when I heard the “_thing_” from within the shadows.

“Don’t shoot, please don’t shoot!” a shaky, weak voice instantly broke the dreadful silence. It was the voice of a young woman; though it sounded lifeless, as if it were teetering on the brink of death. I will never forget those words, the desolation that resided in the vocal resonance permeated the air in an unforgettably, haunting manner.

I hesitated at first, my fear held me crippled, gripping my nerves. The thought of another living, breathing, human being surviving within this torn and tattered village baffled me into mindlessness. Before I could respond to the voice, she stepped out of the shadows, showing me that she was real, and not an apparition or illusion of my fleeting sanity.

Her skin was a pallid, pale complexion and her eyes a dull, lifeless, cloudy blue. She was dressed in torn and tattered clothing that appeared to be covered in both earthly and unearthly filth. She was thin, malnourished and most likely dehydrated. How she had survived the carnage of the daemonic creature which ravished this village was beyond my comprehension. If it were not for her words presenting the revealing of herself, I would have assumed her the embodiment of a living corpse.

I do not recall the entirety of our short conversation; though what I do remember in precise detail was her atrocious warning of condemnation, of certain death. She hissed a whisper in her hollow, calm, cold voice; “Leave this place, get as far away as you can. Nanzagoth; the queen’s minions, they come at night and they take us, they’ll take YOU. You must leave, do not stay here, I beg of you.”

In the instant her voice descended into nothingness, a shrill, deafening scream which filled the valley with its harsh, terrible sound befell our ears. Our voices must have echoed throughout that still, murky air. It was the bellow of a monstrous, hideous _thing_ and it seemed very, very near. The beastly baying continued; its din ravaged my ear drums as it increased in its intensity. It reminded me of the sirens that had adorned the very first vehicles built for extinguishing fires within city limits. It was incessant, repeating, as if it were an alarm.

The young, sickly girl grabbed my arm and pulled me into the depths of the shadows as her cold hand clenched my mouth. Not a word was spoken amongst us as we waited; I knew not to move, not to make even the slightest sound. I sat there, her hand remained clasped over my mouth tightly as I watched my horse standing inside the entrance of the inn. The inhuman screams screeched loudly as it neared the front of the building. In an instant, the heavy wooden door was ripped from the front wall with an unimaginable force. The sheer power of the unhinging of the entry knocked my horse to the floor.

Two unclothed, human-like creatures proceeded through the debris. Their eyes burnt a fiery emerald green and their appendages no longer formed humanly arms or legs, but rather fleshy tentacles. They scurried and writhed through the wreckage like a creature birthed from the sea. An abhorred odor accompanied their presence. It penetrated my nostrils and made me feel ill, for I had never smelt anything as rank or disgusting before. They stood over my horse, staring inquisitively at the steed as they remorselessly strangled the life from the animal. Almost effortlessly they picked up the enormous beast and carried it off.

I had nearly fainted when I saw the creatures hoist the dead animal above their heads. Her grip tightened as she shook me back to reality. She released her hold of me and crawled out of the shadows and placed her finger over her lips indicating me to remain silent. Pointing to my revolver she shook her head “no”. I knew all too well the message she wished to convey. Then she grabbed my arm and led me through the rear entrance of the building.

We hurried through the ruined town, crouching amidst the overgrown grass, heading in the opposite direction of the creatures. Following a beaten down path, we nearly ran the whole way to the entrance of the village. The girl had devised routes throughout the entirety of this place, allowing her to travel undetected to and fro. Our retreat ended just within the wood line of the surrounding fields in a small cave like hole in the earth. It was here in this cavernous abode that the girl had been able to survive.

It was now dark and the mountain vale clamored with life. I could hear in the distance the mad screams and wretched howling of the creatures'. They undoubtedly were feeding upon my horse like starved animals.

There was no light in the small cave and there was nothing that could be safely said between us. The girl leaned over to me, placing her lips upon my ears, and whispered “rest”. In my utter exhaustive state I lost consciousness rather than slept. For no one could sleep under these circumstances and thus the assistance of absolute exhaustion was required.

*The Lair
*To be continued......


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## vinculum (Sep 30, 2012)

Keep going with it. I used to read Lovecraft, etc. Hopefully you can find a different twist on the same kind of story.


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## FleshEater (Sep 30, 2012)

From all the Lovecraft I've read I've never seen an ending like I'm about to deliver, from him. I would like to think of myself as a modern writer trapped in the word usage of "old" with the "push the limits" attitude of modern day. This will definitely be going beyond the more "hideous, unnameable things" and will instead unravel a grisly, disturbing sight (when placed in context with the period). 

I like to try and set up a period piece with a more graphic monstrosity at the end. If you love Horror now a day you've probably seen Alien, Phantasm, Hellraiser, The Thing and a slew of other monster films that step into the darkest realm...I try to place these influences back then. It would be amazing to see the expression of H.P.L. soaking in these modern films coming from his time period...even though he influenced damn near all of them haha!


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## MacDub (Oct 1, 2012)

good intro, yet derivitve. the only way that will work is if you are trying to be like August, or maybe you have a new twist.


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## FleshEater (Oct 1, 2012)

Who is August? 

As I posted previously; I'm not too concerned about originality. If your brain could handle the massive stack of every piece of Horror conjured up to this point in time you would find everything is derivative...guaranteed. I just read Clive Barker's "Dread" and immediately "Saw" and "Martyr's" came to mind; I found both of those intriguing, yet they have used "Dread's" plot in a slightly different context.


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## MacDub (Oct 2, 2012)

I referenced August Derleth, who also contributed to the Cthulu Mythos (also the first to publish writings of Lovecraft). Look into it if you have already read all the works of Lovecraft and want more. I am sure you have already read somethings that he has had a hand in, as I understand you are a fan of Lovecraft.


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## FleshEater (Oct 2, 2012)

Correct, but I'm new to reading so haven't heard the name "August" yet. I'll definitely check him out, thanks!


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## bebarce (Oct 2, 2012)

A couple points I noticed.  Something about the repetition of the word "unworldly" bothered me especially when you throw "unearthly" in the mix.  Unearthly definitely sounds better.  Unworldly while I know it can mean something not of this world, to me sounds more like what you would describe a person who has never traveled out of, or does not know much of anything outside of their own country.  Additionally it's multiple use in such a short passage suggests that more diversity can be sought.

Also (and this is just a nit-pick) you mention "replenishing diminished supplies" but it appears to be at the start of your journey into the wilderness.  I'm still unsure of the time frame of this story, but unless it is more colonial, I would imagine the narrator had journeyed through cultured territory before setting forth into the wilderness.  If that is the case then the town would act more as a starting point to "stock up on essentials" rather than replacing essentials he'd consumed in reaching that town.

That being said, this story so far has made me want to pick up a HP Lovecraft style horror book, or at least take Alan Wake off the shelf which I've yet to invest enough time into.

edit: Err please disregard this post temporarily.  I'd not realized more work was submitted.  I'm used to a forum practice where if an amendment is made to the original work that it's added to the initiating thread post.  My apologies.


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## FleshEater (Oct 2, 2012)

Yes the unworldly, unearthly is a bit repetitive; I hadn't noticed that until you mentioned it. Unworldly is used properly however; it does suffer from both definitions though. 

The time period of this is taking place during probably the late 1800's or early 1900's; so I would imagine the Appalachians would have been rather scarce of civilizations during that time period (At least I'm pretty sure it was...). The narrator has been travelling by horseback for probably a week or so from his destination, thus I used "replenish" to indicate that he was in fact traveling the barren country side. 


Sorry about the posting the entirety later on...I guess I automatically assume people will start from the end to see if any new development has taken place. I'll update both the beginning and a new post in this thread in the future to avoid confusion. I'm trying to get this story finished but I just found out about a possible short notice trip into the mountains of WV...that should be a good bit of influence for me!

Thanks for reading and I'm glad I've inspired you to travel through old works.


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## bebarce (Oct 2, 2012)

FleshEater said:


> Sorry about the posting the entirety later on...I guess I automatically assume people will start from the end to see if any new development has taken place. I'll update both the beginning and a new post in this thread in the future to avoid confusion. I'm trying to get this story finished but I just found out about a possible short notice trip into the mountains of WV...that should be a good bit of influence for me!




You most likely followed the norm here.  I'm new to the forums.  The onus is on me.


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## FleshEater (Oct 2, 2012)

Welcome to the forums! 

I definitely appreciated the feedback you offered. I actually changed the "unworldly anomalies" to "inhuman anomalies". Inhuman appears later on but I think it's far enough in that you won't consciously recall the prior usage.


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## MacDub (Oct 2, 2012)

One of the tricks, that Lovecraft used, was to establish the main character as a rational and educated person. This built contrast and defined the internal conflict in most of his characters. He took his characters through horrific realms unkown to mankind and broke them with it.
I would like to encourage you to find a new way to do this with the intention of exciting your creativity. Much of the initial reading makes me think that you are trying to expand on the Cthulhu Mythos. (having conveyed that vibe is a success in itself) If that is your intention, well, you still have my kudos. I am a rabid fan of Lovecraft.
Something I would like to suggest is to explore a new take on the main character, who will be broken by sights and knowledge that mankind should never behold. I think a good challenge would be to brainstorm up some character types that fit the mold, without being the mold.
(I enjoy your work. Thanks for writing and having it in a place where I can read it.)

*- (kindred-ly) MacDub*


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## MacDub (Oct 2, 2012)

Oh, and by the way, I really like your work. I am really liking it. I hope for more, this being October and all.
(I hope my previous advice was taken in a constructive way.... I can't wait to see what more shall become in your tales.)


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## FleshEater (Oct 3, 2012)

Macdub; are you suggesting maybe some more introspection from the main character? I think I felt like I didn't do enough of that, but at the same time I tried to pursue the literary mans way of taking in the atmosphere. It probably doesn't help that I pocked a writer as a main character...most writers are already bat shit crazy haha!

H.P.L. was a very intelligent man...I guess I relate more to the average man than someone that has studied the cosmos and created nightmarish worlds. 

I'll ponder over your suggestion and see if I can go back and maybe add somethings.


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## Wessik (Oct 3, 2012)

Flesheater, this short story really starts with the third paragraph. The first two paragraphs overly introduce the actual story, and don't really contribute anything to it.

Having said that the *first* paragraph of your story is very much imbued with foreshadowing. Unfortunately, I find that, as a reader, I am immensely more interested in your protagonist and his writing difficulties than I am interested in any bestial space alien.

This produces a conflict of interest on the part of the reader. You see, the first two paragraphs have made it abundantly clear that this will be an action/adventure story. This is uncomfortable, because the third paragraph is very much character driven, and that style eclipses the supposed "focus" of the story, as introduced in the first two paragraphs.

Thank you for your time, Flesheater.

:EDIT:

It really would be helpful if you were to post any significantly revised pieces in their own thread, so as to avoid embarrasing situations like the one I have just committed.

Please view it from my perspective. After investing a significant amount of time reading and pondering the first post, I find out that the draft I critiqued is far from current. That is not likely to make anyone feel good. Perhaps, even, a tad miffed.

Please be more careful next time, flesheater.


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## FleshEater (Oct 3, 2012)

For right now I'll let the berating go. 

I have to ask about your critique; you said you find my protagonist and his writing troubles more interesting than any beastial space alien; the title of the story is Nanzagoth...I believe that screams sci-fi/horror space alien creature damning the entire world. I'm not interested in dragging the reader through dull, unproductive information about my characters writing troubles...I would then find myself in my own writing troubles by doing that. I think too much focus on my character and my readers would find themselves lulled to sleep. He's a man that writes and travels for inspiration; I fail to see why I should provide any back story...unless of course it was to continue an essay on the Necronomicon...but that's tiring. 

Back to the berating; I have been a member of numerous forums. If I posted my updated story in numerous threads I would kick my own ass for flooding the forum unecessarily. This is the first place that I've been where 3 pages of posts go completely unnoticed by those just joining the conversation. 

MacDub also failed to see the proceding of this thread as well but by no means did he belittle me for not updating the first post (which, would also make all previous posts from users null and void and completely out of context). 

Next time please read through comments so you can join in productively with the conversation and the critique of a piece...that's like hoping into a 4 page debate and only considering the first post; it doesn't work like that on a forum. Also, your rather bold for a user with 9 posts whom just joined this month. For future reference I'd probably read through the numerous posts before I condemned someone for my own negation.


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## Wessik (Oct 3, 2012)

Yes, I did berate you. I am sorry. I do not read comments before offering my own, as I find that they might influence me prematurely. But, how about a compromise? Instead of creating new threads for every major revision, we could all benefit from updating the original post with, at the very least, a red-ink notice giving the page of the current draft.

Now, about my comments on the story you posted in the Original Post. In all fairness, I do not think that I can speak to their validity. It is most likely that the current revision/draft is markedly different from what I read. My comments may, or may not, still apply. Of course, I only read three paragraphs of what appears to be a much longer story. If I had read more, I might have had a different perspective. I think, flesheater, that my comments may not be of much help. Indeed, I probably would have to read the current draft and start all over again with my own critique.

But, oh, I don't know... I feel so tired from putting all my effort into that first one... and I'm certainly not enthusiastic about an author who corrects his readers on the proper amount of "boldness" they should approach a manuscript...

Whatever is a potential reader/fan to do? I feel so humiliated, oh, I don't know if can bear to tackle the task again!

Rest assured, Mr. Flesheater, if you do comment on some paltry wordcraft of mine, my response will certainly be: "Thank you, flesheater. I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment"


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## MacDub (Oct 4, 2012)

At first I had the same reaction as Noxicity. It felt very much like something I've read before. It is like an echo of Lovecraft, which is a compliment that you can appreciate. I found myself wondering if it was your intention to be expanding on Lovecrafts realm, pay homage, etc. Obvioulsy it is a style that you excel at using.

Once that vibe took hold, I found myself traveling with the narrator and his horse into the impending doom and strangeness that surely awaits. That is expected when taking a Lovecraftian horseback ride into the wilderness, isn't it? I begin with a preconceived notion of what kind of ride I am about to be taken on in this story.

"...inhaling a zephyr of cool September air" is a phrase that you used that really struck me. The action of it sets a great tone for me. Not much significance in this particular comment. I just liked the use of language. It's not just the wind or the air in the wind. The narrator inhales a zehphyr.  I know he didn't inhale all the wind from the west, but it just sounds cool to me. When I came across that phrase, I distinctly thought, "Hey, I like that."

"...insidious serenity" also works for me in setting a vibe. I can imagine what that must feel like. Kinda reminds me of the cliche... "it was quiet.. .too quiet." It conveys that concept in an artistic way.

I like the the bit about the fedora. That was the first mention of something that helped me begin to visualize the narrator and might be clue to a time period. 

"...an unrelenting and wild aggression was incited within my horse."  This is very minor, but I think that you could get away with omitting the word "was". I am probably wrong, but I think it would give that sentence more action. If I remember right, it is the fourth time you used the word "was" in this story, and they all happened very close to each other. Something that has stuck with me for many years is something I read in a book by King. In Danse Macabre he mentioned that he tries to avoid using the word "was" intentionally. I have found that bit of advice to be very helpful, and it seems like the same is true for you, unless you naturally write in that manner. You didn't seem too pleased with that area of your story in early postings, like something had bothered you about how you wrote it. It may have been the use of the word "was" where you were telling and not showing. 

Suggestion (example):
"Though the beauty of this seeming perfection in nature nourished the senses; there was an eerie tinge of insidious serenity,"
could be: "Though the beauty of this seeming perfection in nature nourished the senses, I sensed an eerie tinge of insidious serenity. It encapsulated me.."

Certainly I have exceeded a standard response (kinda wordy I know), but I have much more to say about what I am getting from your writing. If you don't mind, I would like to add more at a later time, but this seems to be more than enough for now.

*-MacDub*

*edits typos.. again*

*Edits In:*
I like how the original post is not edited up. I like how it travels in  the thread. It would be nice if you found a way to highlight the places  where changes are made in subsequent postings of revision and  elaboration. That does sound like extra tedious work, but would be  helpful.


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## MacDub (Oct 4, 2012)

I am not diggin' the usage of the word "excrement", unless you really  mean poop. Excretion or something like that doesn't sound quite right  either... as in "arachnid-like excretion", but that would be how the  narrator might see it if he were a scientist. I think I understand that  you mean it is a foul smelling futid webbing similar to that which spiders  weave, but outright calling excriment makes me think of poop. (insert  your own Beavis chuckle here).


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## FleshEater (Oct 4, 2012)

I tried to edit my original post and my changes will not save. 

I also do not track my own changes; I write, revise, edit some more and throw away whatever was. Usually when I edit it's never one or two lines or one or two words...usually it's a whole paragraph! So notifying readers of edits is probably not going to be possible since I don't even know where the changes have happened. It would probably be useful to influence those struggling with the editing process, but I get so lost in files and my own brain process that I can't keep track of my own works progression.

MacDub; I greatly appreciate you pointing out the usage of "was". I was unaware of any ideology concerning "was"...but I can definitely see how it detracts from the possibilities of "showing" instead of "telling". Thank you and I'll soon be going back through and attempting to remove as many as I can. Any chance I have to overly describe something makes me happy ha-ha! I also think I might have got carried away with it in "The Inn"...I'm not sure though. 

Yes...the poop issue ha-ha! I'll have to conjure up another word to replace that. It's clearly a definition of waste matter and that's not really what I wanted to portray; I don't know enough about arachnids to suffice a specific, scientific terminology there. I'll think of something though. 

SUBSTANCE; I believe "substance" shall suffice in place of "poop" ha-ha! 

I appreciate your critique; it's in depth and much appreciated. If you would like to save time, I won't be offended if you only point out negative issues. Then again...I also don't mind if you like to compliment my word usage either! 



I would love to have this finished by Halloween but I'm not sure that will happen. Perhaps a first draft of the chapters to come might come about, but I see that rather pointless to post. I usually spend a fews hours writing and then days editing ha-ha!


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## FleshEater (Oct 4, 2012)

I counted 34 "was" in just "The Village" and "The Inn". 


Focusing on just that word I noticed the repetitiveness of it and how it actually hindered the story. Where I didn't use the word I found myself sincerely intrigued...thank you again MacDub for pointing out the usage of "was". I have a new challenge to figure out in this story; you just made it much more interesting!


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## Wessik (Oct 4, 2012)

> I do not keep track of my edits





Flesheater, I like you, but you'll have to do better than that. Are you saying that you have no idea which document on your computer is the most recent draft? I find that hard to believe. But alas, it is water under the bridge. I have familiarized myself with the forum, and it would seem that this is a very common problem. How unfortunate.


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## FleshEater (Oct 4, 2012)

Wessik said:


> Flesheater, I like you, but you'll have to do better than that. Are you saying that you have no idea which document on your computer is the most recent draft? I find that hard to believe. But alas, it is water under the bridge. I have familiarized myself with the forum, and it would seem that this is a very common problem. How unfortunate.



I know which is my most recent...what I don't know is which draft was prior to all of my numerous edits...because frankly I could care less about the prior terrible writing.

Again, carrying a broad sword while you ride your mighty steed through uncharted territory. It's not a problem; it's you. Just adjust and be quiet about the way a forum works and flows. 





Anyways, back to the progression of my seemingly misguided, ill formatted thread.



MacDub; I changed all of the "was" issues out of my writing. Wow! What a difference; I am in your debt for that suggestion! 

This was the only re-write that I'm not fully comfortable with just yet. I want to see what others think though...errr...should I post this in post 1 instead? Nah...that would be silly! (I had to get that in there.)

This was the first draft of it...I highlighted all of my "was" mentions in this piece.

Though the beauty of this seeming perfection in nature nourished the senses; there was an eerie tinge of insidious serenity, which encapsulated me as I looked upon the wooded land. There was something brooding within this natural elegance. A peculiar sense of stillness seemed to haunt these mountains. The wild life appeared devoid, as if it had retired to hibernation, or that it altogether ceased to exist. I much expected the forests to clamor wildly in harmonious song, but instead received only silence from the mountains vacancy. The mere sound of my horse, breaking branches and disturbing the earth, resounded like a death rattle amongst the emptiness as I made my descent.


This is what it turned into;

Though the beauty of this seeming perfection in nature nourished the senses; there existed an eerie tinge of insidious serenity, which encapsulated me as I looked upon the wooded land. A peculiar sense of stillness haunted the natural elegance of these mountains, like an unknown presence, brooding infernal desires as it lays in wait. The wild life appeared devoid, as if it had retired to hibernation, or that it altogether ceased to exist. I much expected the forests to clamor wildly in harmonious song, but instead received only silence from the mountains vacancy. The mere sound of my horse, breaking branches and disturbing the earth, resounded like a death rattle amongst the emptiness as I made my descent.

Minor changes throughout cause a drastic difference in reading. I could post all of my changes but that would seem monotnous.


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## Potty (Oct 4, 2012)

Personal exchanges which are bordering on 'flaming' are not what the forums are about. Please keep the subject on topic in future.


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## FleshEater (Oct 5, 2012)

I updated the very first post with my most current revision of the "was" exclusions. 

Though it reads much better than before; there is still something missing from this story and I can't figure it out. Maybe I'm telling it to quickly?


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## MacDub (Oct 12, 2012)

I went back and read the revised original post. At first impression, I really like the momentum the rewrite gave to the story. I understand what you mean when you say that something is missing from the story. It was much more Lovecraft before, where it held and stuck in points of dreariness, atmosphere and tone. This rewrite gave fuel to it and made it move. Mind ya, this is only one man's opinion. I think that what you miss is that overall tone, and I do to. You might be happier if you could find a pattern or way to get that heavy weight back in the story and still retain the wheels you gave to it in this rewrite (or future writes).

*edits in*
Also you had mentioned something that I understood as you wanting to take Lovecraft up a notch. Whereas, he just said something like the Unnamable Horror and you intended to flesh that out into something more. I think that this rewrite is headed into that direction. It only needs those deep dark dreary descriptive lovecraftian pockets timed into the momentum you've acheived, which might be introspection of despair in the main character spiced into the story.


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## FleshEater (Oct 12, 2012)

It lacks character develpoment for sure. I'm actually going to rewrite this entire story...probably in third person and the threats shall be much more human. I like some the imagery I captured but the whole of it fails. This will be the third rewrite haha! I will perfect it eventually.


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