H. P. Lovecraft

When one of our number suggested that Howard Phillips Lovecraft be inducted into the ranks as an honorary Alliterate, we immediately sent the membership secretary of our august company to pilot our private zeppelin to Providence, Rhode Island, so that we might personally invite the reclusive author to our October meeting.

Unfortunately, we were unable to apprehend Master Lovecraft at home in his dilapidated Victorian mansion on Benevolent Street near the apex of Federal Hill. However, our man left our calling card and we anxiously awaited Master Lovecraft’s reply.

Would that reply had never come!

Oh, the letter itself seemed innocent enough, though it was cancelled in Arkham, that sinister town lurking in the hills near shadowed Innsmouth. The correspondence was long, somewhat longer than most novellas, though it did not ramble as do missives written by the uneducated. This lack of brevity, however, did not come unexpected, as we had discovered Master Lovecraft’s penchant for lengthy correspondence during our background research before extending to him our membership solicitation. Nor did his invitation that our October meeting be held at his ancestral home in the forested estates outside Arkham seem amiss. Eagerly, we summoned our zeppelin and set forth for the still-untamed wilds of New England.

Perhaps the frigid climate of the house should have aroused our suspicions. However, Alliterates are a hardy bunch, and our previous expedition to the uncharted wastes of Antarctica left us well-prepared for relatively minor changes in temperature.

Our host was a polite and thoughtful man, though it immediately became apparent that he would never vie for the cherished Alliterate title of Most Comely Member. Despite this, we were pleased to welcome him to our ranks and, for the most part, that first meeting went according to custom—though some few did notice a curious scrabbling sound emanating from the baseboards of the mansion’s gothic living room. In fact, the encounter went well enough that Master Lovecraft invited us back to his home for our next monthly rendezvous. And the next. And the next after that. Alliterates value hospitality, and so no one thought twice when, after the third meeting, our host suggested that we should use his abode every month for our regular gatherings. This congenial arrangement continued until that fateful September meeting when the electric power failed.

As previously noted, we Alliterates are used to climactic changes. How else would we plumb the secrets of the Arctic or explore the vast jungles of the Dark Continent, or endure the heat of the Australian deserts? So, though this September night was unusually balmy and humid, most of us gave little thought to the inconvenience.

To Master Lovecraft, however, the loss of air-conditioning seemed to pose a frightful dilemma.

At first, we believed he might cancel the meeting entirely—even before the port had been served. But careful insistence on our part persuaded our host to press forward with the usual routine. Soon, however, we wished we had not. For the rising torpidity of the air caused a most profound and disquieting change in our host.

A foetid odor arose within the room, and the hitherto-only-guessed-at scrabbling in the baseboards now became discernable to all those present at the gathering. As the temperature rose, a deterioration in the physical appearance of our newest member also became apparent.

Soon our host began lighting black candles and chanting in a language that none of us, not even the most learned, could understand.

Strange, unnatural visions began to appear in our minds, as if—though fully awake—we had, in fact, been swept unbidden to the land of Morpheus. The noises at the baseboards grew louder until they sounded no longer like mice foraging for stray bits of food, but rather like many-clawed hands scraping at the ancient walls to gain entry to the room.

So distracted were we by the noise, that none of us noticed the loathsome and unspeakable change in our host until it was altogether too late.

Aiiie!
Aiiie!
Yog-Sothoth!
Shub-Niggurath!
Great Cthulhu!
The Old Ones return!
Iiieeeeeeeeeeeeee!