"The Tale of Satampra Zeiros"

by Clark Ashton Smith  

Originally published Weird Tales, November 1931   

Satampra Zeiros and his buddy Tirouv Ompallios are thieves living in the city of Uzuldaroum, current capital of Hyperborea.  Lately the thieving business hasn't been so hot, and they're down to just enough cash to get drunk in the hopes it will inspire a new heist scheme.  So that's what they do.

The booze kicks in and Satampra does indeed come up with a plan.  A day's journey away is the former capital, Commorium.  It seems Commorium was completely abandoned (in a single day!) centuries ago, and is now a ghost-city, slowly being absorbed into the surrounding jungle, a place everyone is afraid to go.  So afraid that the treasures of the old kings and such are still there, gathering dust.  Why don't they go snag it?

Agreeing this is an excellent idea, the two best buds head out the next day and head for Commorium, stealing from everyone they meet.  Finally their path takes them into an increasingly thick and menacing jungle, where everything's extreme - trees, flowers, and even beasties that watch them as they make their way through the creepers into Commorium.  The jungle is so dark and spooky that they start to get a little freaked out, so they get drunk again on some stolen booze and are soon convinced nothing can stand in their way.  So even though its dark when they arrive at Commorium, they plow on ahead.  

Commorium is well=preserved but utterly empty.  They explore the deserted streets until coming across a non-desrcipt square building they recognize as a temple.  Must be good stuff in there!  They head in.

The temple turns out to be a temple to Tsathoggua, and contains nothing but an unadorned stature of Toad Boy and a big-ass metal basin on three legs sitting in the middle of the room.  While looking over that statue and getting pissed at its lack of bejewelment, they begin to notice a nasty stink coming from the basin.  Unwisely deciding to go look, they find it full of black gloop - which seems to be moving.  The gloop suddenly forms itself into a liquid monster with "malignant" eyes which comes slithering out after them.  Wisely, S and T decide the thing to do is run like hell.  

They flee all night, with the monster chasing and seemingly toying with, them.  By dawn they realize they've been running in a circle as they arrive back at the temple.  Seeing no better choice, they run inside and slam and bolt the door. But the gloop monster finds some holes to slither in through, and now it's back in the (now-locked) room with them.  Satampra shouts "farwell, Tirouv Ompallios" - which translates into "you're on your own sucker!" and hides behind the statue.  Tirouv, having no other choices, tries to hide in the basin.  The gloop monster transforms itself into one big mouthy shape and swallows him, then goes to sleep in the basin.

After noting that it hasn't moved or made a sound for awhile, Satampra decides to split, sneaking over to the door and shooting the bolt - which makes enough noise to wake the gloop, which launches a tentacle, grabbing Satampra's wrist as he tries to flee.  He manages to escape - but now minus a hand.

What makes this little fable work is Smith's flowery language, his ability to vividly conjure up fantastic imaginary worlds and scenes, and his sarcastic humor.  Satampra is your basic classic loveable scumbag, and his willingness to throw his beloved boon companion under the bus at the first sign of being eaten by a cosmic gloop monster is priceless.  Not much plot here but a lot of fun!

"Dig Me No Grave"

 by Robert E. Howard 

originally published Weird Tales, February 1937

It's a dark and stormy night - and Kirowan is being woken up by his buddy Conrad, who needs him to come to the house of a mutual acquaintance, John Grimlan.  Exactly why Conrad needs Kirowan for this (emotional support? Heavy lifting?) Exactly why Kirowan doesn't do what I would do and say "wha-fuck ... call me in the morning..." and go back to bed is a little fuzzy but maybe things were different in the 30's.  

Things get even fuzzier since via their conversation Grimlan was a major creep and apparently had been really old for a hundred years or something.  In any case he had earlier given Conrad a sealed envelope with instructions as to what to do after he died (immediately after I guess).  But this very night he had begged Conrad to burn the envelope and dismember his body(!!!!), neither of which Conrad did, instead letting Grimlan suffer through his last moments writhing in agony.  I mean, what kind of true friend would decline to dismember your body after you die?  Yeesh, how our morality has fallen.  

(Or perhaps Kirowan was just pissed, since only a few nights before Grimlan had gone off on a condescending tirade about how he didn't know shit about the occult or anything else, didn't know of the winds that blew from Yuggoth or the actual title of the first 1977 Star Wars film)

Down at Gimlan's place, there's no electricity, but Kirowan left Gimlan's bod laid out on a table in the library with seven black candles burning (but he still didn't dismember him!).  But he left him wearing bedroom slippers, though uncovered.  Now he's covered with an ornate robe, the slippers are gone, and the candles are lit.  And a mysterious "Oriental" is lurking in the corner.  He confesses to lighting the candles, covering Grimlan's body, and taking the slippers (the bastard!)

The envelope is opened and Kirowan reads the text, which includes a pledge of Grimlan's soul to Malik Tous, an evil Asian deity.  As Kirowan reads, the candles go out, one by one.   As he finishes, the last candles snuffs, and the house is plunged into darkness.  They hear a terrible scream.  Conrad manage to find and light another candle.  Grimlan's bod and the mysterious visitor are gone.  The men smell smoke, and realizing the house is on fire, flee.  After escaping the house, they look back, and see the place engulfed in flames, a dark, winged figure rising from the smoke, clutching what appears to be a man's body in its talons...

I actually first encountered this one in a fairly faithful adaptation in a Marvel comic, and it stayed with me.  It's not a great story but it is a very good one.  Mainly because its full of dark, spooky, claustrophobic atmosphere.  It just works.  Howard's strength as a writer was to make you feel it, and he does here - you're in that room, the candles burning, the sinister incantation being read.

Amazingly, given I've read this a bunch of times since the 80's, and the comics version many more (and since the 70's), and I just now figured out that the "mysterious Oriental" was actually Malik Tous!  DUH!!

"The Secret of Sebek"

by Robert Bloch

originally published Weird Tales November 1937

Our Narrator this time is a writer - albeit it not a successful one - who's gone to New Orleans either for inspiration or partying while trying to write stories about ancient Egypt. He decides to go hang with the partyers (it being Mardi Gras time, of course), and finds himself inexplicably surprised to run into a dude dressed as an ancient Egyptian priest.  It turns out said dude knows ON's writings and immediately invites him to his place where he's giving a party - there'll be some real occultists there...

Since this is the sort of Lovecraftian character who'd be more drawn to a party with "real occultists" than "real hot and horny chicks", he of course accepts.  

Most of the partygoers are just partygoers, but the priest-dressed fellow introduces ON to his real guests, a bunch of dedicated occultists (including one Etienne De Marigny, who is also name-dropped in Lovecraft/Price's "Through the Gates of the Silver Key" and later becomes the (proud?) papa of Henri-Laurent De Marigny, who will grow up to be a full-time doormat for insufferable occult hero Titus Crow before marrying the Queen of the Forest and going off to live happily ever after in some Disneyesque paradise. Pretty good for a character who never speaks, does anything, or has any discernible personality!).  

Among the things they have to share with ON is a copy of Mysteries of the Worm, and a mummy case containing the mummy of a priest of Sebek, a nasty Egyptian crocodile god.

It seems Sebek's priests mummies were said to be guarded by monsters with the bodies of men and the heads of crocodiles, and indeed, ON has seen someone dressed in Egyptian garb and a croc mask at the party.  Said croc-masked dude now shows up and bites out the host's neck.  ON flees the scene when he realizes croc-head isn't wearing a mask.

Very minor Bloch without much HPL in it.

"The Mannikin"

by Robert Bloch

originally published Weird Tales May 1937

Our narrator is yet another head case under professional care who has a wild tale to tell us about how he got driven nutso.

It seems he's a college professor and as big fan of fishing, and went on a little trip to a lake resort near a village called Bridgetown.   There he runs into a former student - Simon Maglore - who was brilliant and rich, but also a weirdo who studied the occult and drew pictures and made sculptures of demons and witches - oh and he's a hunchback.  Needless to say, brilliant and rich he mighta been but BMOC he weren't.  Anyway, Maglore seems to be in poor health - his hump's doubled in size!  And says he's writing a monograph about (surprise!) witches.

Taking pity on poor old Simon, our narrator noses around town, discovering the Maglore family is disliked and always has been - for the usual reasons - and Simon especially so - for the obvious reasons.  He decides to drop by and suggest that Simon Lay off his witchcrafty studies for awhile.  While visiting - he thinks he sees the hump move.

Our narrator visits the local doc the next day, repeating what he's seen and Simon's crazy-ass talk about witches and familiars the night before, and the doc readily concludes that Simon should be locked up for his own good (gotta love 30's pulp fiction psychiatric practices!).  They hotfoot it over to Simon's pad only to find him dead in a pool of blood.  Which is bad.  Even worse is that he's shirtless, and that was no hump on his back - no - it's a parasitic twin!  Which has bitten old Simon to death (and therefore killed itself - stupid parasitic twin!)

Notes left behind by Simon (this is the best part!) explain that the twin had been growing since his college days and needed human blood to survive - which Simon had been providing, thus solving several local unsolved murders.  But it kept growing, and wanting more more more, and taking over poor Simon's mind.  Gak!

This is a nothing-special story, but it is highlighted by the truly hilarious excerpts from Simon's diary, in which he argues with the twin, even to the point of telling it "No! Stop! Get your hands --" thus committing the Greatest of All Lovecraftian Sins, the old "write down your dying words even as a gloop monster is devouring you bit".  

Now Bloch was known in later years for the black humor he injected into many of his tales, so its possible he meant this one to be tongue-in-cheek.  Possible.  And as much as I like Bloch and want to give him the benefit of the doubt, this one's hard to take seriously or find funny.

"The Faceless God"

by Robert Bloch

originally published Weird Tales May 1936

Dr. Stugatche (which I assume you pronounce "stew-gatch-ee") is an ugly little turd who deals in black market archaeological antiquities, and nasty little son of a bitch.  When we first meet him, he's torturing an old desert nomad in order to find out the location of an extra-rare find - a statue buried in the sand of the desert in the middle of nowhere.

Stuggy puts together an expedition and heads out to the spot, where they find the statue sticking mostly buried in the sand - a perfectly preserved, like-new ancient Egyptian statue of a god - with no facial features.  Unfortunately, Stuggy's gang sez hell no, they're not touching that thing!  Mainly cuz its a statue of Nyarlathotep, whose back story is elaborated forthwith.  Stuggy persuades them - at gunpoint.  But in the morning finds they've re-buried the statue and taken off - with all the supplies and everything.  Stuggy's left with his gun, his statue, and whatever water is left in his canteen.  Couldn't happen to a nicer guy, right?

Well, Stuggy sets off on his own in search of the nearest oasis and forcing himself to be optimistic. Things don't work out.  As he makes his way, he finds himself going in circles.  What's more, he feels like an evil presence is stalking him.  He begins to hallucinate (or does he?) visions of Nyarlathotep and of cyclopean shapes in the sand.  The sands engulf and he dies whispering the name "Nyarlathotep".

This early bit of Bloch shows him starting to move a little out of the Lovecraft imitation territory.  It's almost EC-like ... except EC comics wouldn't exist for another 16 or 17 years ... and probably owed influence to Bloch.  

Like a typical EC, it gives us a hateful central character who comes to a bad end.  The buildup is routine but turns suspenseful after the history lesson on Ny-baby, and Stuggy's nightmarish visions of a Nyarlathotep-ian apocalypse are 100% effective "cosmic" horror.  Slightly on the minor side, but with some very effective moments.

"The Seven Geases"

 by Clark Ashton Smith 

originally published Weird Tales, October 1934

Lord Rabilar Vooz is a magistrate, cousin to the king hisself, in prehistoric Hyperborea.  One day he sets out with a band of retainers to the forbidding Eiglophian Mountains, a volcaninc range dominated by one Mount Voormithadreth, home of the hairy man-ape race called "voormis", which he intends to hunt.  The mountain is a spooky place, and it is said that many horrible things lurk in the caves under the mountains, including the bat-toad god Tsathoggua; but Rabilar, being a modern man, dismisses all that as mere superstition.

Rabilar, like the arrogant fuckwit he is, gets a bit lost in the mountains.  He also gets a bit of a surprise when he sees smoke rising from behind some tall rocks - as if someone were making a fire.  He follows the smoke and comes upon a nasty-looking old dude in a nasty-looking robe holding some kind of ceremony around a fire.

Mr. Nasty is a wizard named Ezdagor, and he's pretty put-out about Rabilar interrupting his ceremony.  So he puts Rab under a "geas", a spell which compels him to complete a task as ordered.  The task is to go into the bowels of the earth under the mountain, via the caves of the voormis, and offer himself as a sacrifice to Tsathoggua.  Rab tries to laugh this off but finds he can't laugh.  Or speak.  Or do anything other than make his way to his destination, guided by Raphthotis, Ezdagor's faithful archaeopteryx familiar.

Rab goes through the caves, harried by the voormis who manage to do only minor injury to him thanks to his armor, and makes his way down to Tsathoggua, who just ate and isn't interested.  So Tsath-o puts a new geas on him, sending him to Atlach-Nacha, who's too lazy to peel him out of hisd armor, and so geases him to go to visit the sorceror Haon-Dor, who also has no use for him and thus geases him to go see the Serpent People.  They too can't find a use for him, and geas him on to the Cavern of the Archetypes, where he is eaten several times by astral/mist-formed dinosaurs, before the archetypes, the original, evolved form of men (misty energy beings) insult him and geas him to go see Abhoth, who they consider all kinds of gross and therefore the only place for a turd like Rab.

Abhoth, a big slimy pool that breeds gross little monsters incessantly, also can't think of what to do with Rab.  So he puts on him the worst geas he can think of - sending him back to the surface world (well it's awful to Abhoth).

Rab starts his way back but falls through Atlach-Nacha's web and into a possibly bottomless gulf.  Poor Rab!

This is a rather tongue-in-cheek story, kind of a cross between a dark, surreal fairy-tale, and an EC comics story, had EC ever ventured into such territory.  You can almost hear The Old Witch or The Crypt-Keeper cackling away at the end.  Its kind of like a grim bedtime story you might read to your kid - if you had the Weirdest Kid in the World.  I know I would have dug it.  I leave it to you to speculate on what that says about me.

For all its tongue-in-cheek-ness, Smith's acidic prose and endless invention make this charming and a fun read.  And it its the one and only full appearance of Tsathoggua and Atlach-Nacha, both of whom I've always had a soft spot for.  I mean, come on - you can't beat a lazy toad-bat god!