A SNEAK PEAK AT MY FIRST SHORT STORY IN 75 YEARS!!

I'm still slaving over the text, in a most self-involved and writerly manner. As soon as my tweed jacket comes back from the dry cleaner, and I land some more creativity inducing peyote, I will finish this. But this first paragraph sets the tone for the brilliance and horrors to follow. I am truly channeling the ghost and spirit of H.P Lovecraft, who died of syphillis and, probably, SuperAIDS in 1937. But enough dilly dallying. I present to you an exclusive sneak peak at....

H.P. Lovecraft's Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.



I

Even now, untold animal eons after the eldritch events I am about to unspool took place, my fragile human shell shudders with incontinent horrificness. As I sit by candle light, doors and windows sealed and impregnable as the grandest tomb, I sense the beastly hooves slowly lurking outside my door, the pulsating bloody glow illuminating Its beelzabubish horns. The horns It will use to violate my torso and organs, sending me forever to an eternity of never-ending nothingness in an act of exacting violence and revenganceness. Telling the tale is my crime. The justice will be my death. Yet the truth must be revealed less mankind continues under the shadow of vile yuletide lies. It is my sacrifice and my unavoidable destination as the sole surviving witness to the birth of It’s cosmic quest for dominion over mankind. This paper, this fragile wafer of truth, I leave to you as testament and warning of the coming of Yog Ry’ldophthu.

I was but a simple tradesman in the man’s toy shop, working under conditions unworthy of any man, woman or animal. I cobbled craven images of equine persuasion, dolls with dead human-like eyes, and wagons resembling those cursed vehicles which hauled away the dead amidst the Black Plague. Twas a modest existence which provided payment of a diminutive nature. Nonetheless, I was comfortable among the throng of merry craftsman, all of the same elvish ethnicity as myself. Their dedication to their art, intoxicated with a parasitic merriness which insinuated it’s insidious single-minded clarity upon their being eventually wormed its way into the deep, unknowable canyons of my previously fallow brain matter. I eventually forgot my eternal yearning to work in the field of dentistry. The attraction of extracting rotted plots of teeth passed without apprehension.

And then, one day, I heard the agonizing, ungodly screams from the reindeer stables.

HOW'S THAT FOR A GODDAMN CLIFF HANGER?!!! NOW THAT I'VE GOT YOU HOOKED, DROOL LIKE RABID FANBOYS AWAITING THE FINISHED WORK.