Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.21: Darkness Calls To Darkness

Photographed at twilight, the numerous rooftop transmitter arrays of what is almost certainly a Ministry outpost seem to exude a faint gloomy aura, mirrored by a similar mirky shadow which hangs above the building. No such phenomena were visible when the photo was taken.

Perhaps these shadowy auroras are the praeternatural manifestation of whatever dark signals are being broadcast from the transmitter arrays toward whatever equally dark and monstrous receiver lurks in the upper air - after all, it is often said by the good folk of Horsingdon that darkness calls to darkness.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.20: Ontological Chill

Partially hidden by this overgrown slope is a disused warehouse which, rumour has it, was used by the Ministry as a storage site for various esoteric artefacts and occult technologies, and which that sinister and secretive department of the British government had either unearthed or developed as part of its covert programme of praeternaturally-oriented research throughout the period of the Cold War. Notably, the building was, prior to its compulsory purchase by the Ministry, part of the Boreham family’s holdings.

Although the site remains sealed off and out-of-bounds to the casual visitor, one can still feel a sudden drop in temperature -  even on the warmest of days - within 50 yards or so of the building’s perimeter. During his all-too brief sojourn in the region during the mid-1960s, the noted occultist and parapsychologist Roland Franklyn undertook an investigation into the paranormal phenomena which had purportedly been occuring in the area around the warehouse; whilst his fndings were inconclusive, Franklyn nonetheless remarked that the extremes of cold he experienced in the vicnity of the building were ‘akin to those frigid, etheric star-winds which sweep down from the frozen interstellar gulfs of space - or the cognate of that forlorn and unnatural chill which emanates from those hideous and invisible abyssal realms which grind ceaselessly against the ever-thinning walls of our world.’

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.19: The Forbidden Stair

Walking towards the northerly end of Hallowmere Road, one encounters a rough, overgrown embankment which also edges onto Boreham Park. Scaling the embankment is a concrete stairway with poorly constructed wooden bannister.

The embankment and the stairway - which like similar phenomena occasionally encountered throughout Horsingdon, seems to lead nowhere - is completely enclosed by a brutal, industrial palisade of galvanised steel.

It has been that that, on certain nights, an endless parade of ghostly figures can be seen ascending the stairs; other rumours hold that the stairway was constructed at the behest of the Gaurdians of the Black Bowers, and that strange sigils are inscribed within each step of the structure, delineating the stations of a ritual process which can effect a metaphysical transition into those abyssal zones inhabited by Those Who Wait.

Whatever the truth of the matter, rightminded Horsingdon folk tend to steer clear of the site.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.18: Immurement

One of the few remaining properties which can still be found throughout Horsinhgdon which was once owned by the Boreham family. Like others of its kind, every door and window has been long sealed with brick. It is not unusual to find the habitations on either side of such buildings long abandoned. People no longer ask why these old buildings have been secured in this manner, almost as a form of immurement - nor do the like to mention the sounds they sometime detect coming from within.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.17: The Sounds Out of Time

Built above an ancient barrow, on certain nights of the year this transmitter array broadcasts a very curious signal: behind a layer of static, one can discern a distant beating of drums, and the muffled sound of human chanting -  although the words are unclear and seem to be in a hitherto unknown language. The chanting persists for sometime, until there is a sound like something fleshy being rent or torn - after which the chanting turns into a panicked, horrified screaming. Then there is silence. 

There are those who speculate that the broadcast is some kind of residual haunting: the strange properties of the Horsingdon landscape having absorbed the trauma produced by some appalling neolithic ritual and its monstrous aftermath, causing it to be repeated forever after. 

Others have suggested a more disturbing possibility: that the broadcast is the refraction of some future event - an event so terrible that it has warped the weft of time, causing the arrow of temporality to turn back upon itself, and sending an echo of that frightful occurence back to us a future reminder of its hideous inevitability.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.16: Nihilation

One of the numerous, small derelict brick buildings scattered around Horsingdon, whose locked and bolted doors bear a sign warning: ‘Keep Out by order of The Ministry’. 

Built during the early stages of the Cold War, a retired civil servant of my acquaintance - and who claims to have been in the employ of the mysterious Ministry - has alleged that these buildings came to represent a final, ideological failsafe to be activated in the event of the Cold War going hot, or in the case of Great Britain falling to communism: containing hideous occult technologies developed towards the end of World War 2, these buildings were positioned at key esoteric hotspots throught the region’s topography - ‘zones of inbetweeness’ delineating the hypergeometry of some kind of vast summoning grid, whose activation would call forth Those Who Wait from without the monstrous, sub-dimensional abysses which claw ceaselessly against the walls of our world.

Whilst one might wonder at the ideological absolutism underpinning the political will to enact  such a thing, there are those amongst the Guardians of the Black Bowers who would see in such a desire for utter catastrophe what Mark Fisher describes as ‘the capacity for nihilation, for producing new potentials through the negation of what already exists’.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No. 15: The Words From Below

The steel grating of this barrier conceals an old, disused access tunnel in Boreham Station. Otherwise unremarkable, in recent years some passersby have reported hearing a low whisper emanating from the void behind the grating. Not a single one of these individuals has yet been willing to reveal the precise words spoken to them by that soft whisper - or what might have given voice  to those words...

It has long been rumoured that there exists in the vicinity of the station an extensive network of tunnels, built by James Boreham, and stretching from Boreham Manor, connecting to St. Ormund’s Church, and running beneath Boreham Park; it is also said that James Boreham dug these tunnels with the intention of connecting them to older, more ancient structures hidden deep below Horsingdon - perhaps those who constructed the access tunnel delved too deeply into those hidden realms below, and in doing so inadvertantly roused something from its aeons-long slumber.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.14: Night Lands

The transmitter arrays which dot Horsingdon’s suburban landscape sometimes seem to act as boundary markers - not so much by way of mapping out a physical, geographic border, but by delineating points of ingress to those inscrutable, praeternatural zones which constitute an occulted, yet parallel topography to that of Horsingdon, and which the Guardians of the Black Bowers refer to (often in hushed tones) as ‘the Night Lands’. 

The jarring, atonal signals and blind, desolate static with which the arrays populate the airwaves in their immediate vicinity certainly seem to operate in a manner akin to some sort of esoteric warning signal; indeed, this must be the case, for the alternative - that the arrays are acting as beacons, purposely calling to the monstrous inhabitants of those nighted worlds of horror  - is too terrible to contemplate.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.13: Down In The Park

Boreham Park, after dark. Despite the efforts of Horsingdon Council to address the problem, few of the streetlamps which run alongside the tarmac pathways criss-crossing the park have ever performed reliably in lighting the way of travellers who use those footpaths after dark.

One such footpath marks the most direct route from Boreham Station (which connects Horsingdon to Central London via the Piccadilly Line) through to the A403 (one of the main thoroughfares through Horsingdon, and known locally as Southcote Lane), and thence to Welbury High Street; even though walking around the perimeter of Boreham Park represents a signifcant detour for commuters, few are willing to risk using this partially-lighted shortcut after dark. No one ever explicitly articulates the reason for this; however, if one walks through the park at dusk, one sometimes experiences an encroaching sense of nameless dread - as if one is travelling a path which veers perilously close to a territory both terrifying and inimicable to the human world.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.12: Broadcasts

This transmitter array oversees the area upon and below which Horsingdon Bunker was built. Constructed as a contingency plan in case Kelvedon Hatch (the nominal seat of UK governance had the Cold War turned hot) was compromised, Horsingdon Bunker ceased operations as an active facility not long after its sister site was also decomissioned in the 1980s. Or at least that is what the official record states. Others have claimed that the Bunker continued to operate into the early 2000s as a research facility involved in the investigation and testing of certain occult technologies - technologies which had supposedly been on the cusp of being operationalised by the Axis powers towards the end of World War 2.

Curiously, both Kelvedon Hatch and Horsingdon Bunker were built in close proximity to ancient neolithic sites associated with a range of paranormal phenomena including, in the post-war era, numerous UFO sightings.

In any case, in the aftermath of rumours regarding recent activity in the vicinity of the bunker, it seems that the previously-inactive transmitter array has again begun broadcasting: the airwaves in the vicinity are apparently now awash with a strange, howling static, punctuated by some kind of ritual chanting; or by inhuman voices uttering nightmares and spewing strings of seemingly random numbers which, nonetheless, infer the outline of a monstrous and alien mathematics - a hypergeometric algebraics hinting at the abysmal structures of uttermost desolation which underlie the visible, everyday structure of things.

If there is truth in any of this, maybe it would have been better for all of us had the Cold War turned hot after all.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.11: Rumours

An outlier to the main complex of Horsingdon Bunker (that decrepit and ghostly memorial to Cold War dread), this strangely-configured generator at the edge of Horsingdon Wood apparently sprang to life about a week ago after years of inactivity, the air about it thick with the sickening thrum of unearthly energies. 

Rumours have also been filtering through the region regarding muffled chants heard emanating from the derelict underground complex since the Winter Solstice; whilst the lead-lined steel door set into the brutalist concrete structure marking the bunker’s entrance remains resolutely locked, one of the local conspiracy theorists also claimed recently that markings drawn in red chalk had appeared across its lintel, delineating a system of monstrous signification which, he avers, originate from an unclean body of praeternatural lore of supposedly-inhuman provenance. 

Whilst one might be well-advised in approaching this sort of unsubstantiated rumour and uncorroborated assertion with a significant degree of trepidation, the good folk of Horsingdon Borough - superstitious though they might be in certain regards - are all too-well acquainted with those portents which augur the reawakening of the ancient and secret things whch lurk within and about the region. One ignores their warnings at one’s peril.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.10: Derelicts

This bombed-out factory at the edge of the Ebury Way near Trentford has lain derelict since the end of World War 2. It is said that an old tramp - rumoured to be of the order of the Guardians of the Black Bowers - has lived within the ruins since anyone can remember.

Locals will inform you that this strange and ragged indigent trades in petty hexes and minor sorceries - that for a few coins or a half-bottle of cheap scotch, he will read your fortune, or charge some weak and forgotten spirit with afflicting one who has slighted you with some small inconvenience.

There are those who further intimate that, for a few select clients, this curious vagrant will make available - for a premium - choicer wares...

It is also said those who avail themselves of such offers often find themselves baulking at the price required of them when payment is due...

It is for good reason that the folk of the region are fond of the saying that they would not wish upon even their worst enemy the fate which awaits those who have crossed the Guardians of the Black Bowers.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.9: Tombs

This unmarked tomb of curious design lies deep within the sprawling morass of Horsingdon Cemetary, and purportedly houses the mortal remains of one of James Boreham’s unnamed children. It’s blocky, uneven structure - and the faint lines etched upon its surface which form strange, geometric patterns - speak to occult principles informing the sepulchre’s creation.

Those versed in such matters have suggested that the esoteric architecture employed in the tomb’s construction were meant to effect a dreadful and inhuman transubstantiation of that which lies within; other have suggested that the vault’s otherworldly attributes were, conversely, intended to ensure that whatever slumbers restlessly in a deathly repose within its confines, remains forever entombed therein.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.8: Orbs

Yesterday a strange, glowing orb manifested from a tear in the sky during the midwinter pall that typically falls over Horsingdon on a late afternoon at this time of year; whatever the thing was, for a few brief moments it stared out from that rent in reality - a pale, wraithlike eye - before disappearing back to the inscrutable zone from whence it came

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon No.7: Witchpaths

This narrow road runs through part of Horsingdon Wood, and follows one of the ancient tracks known throughout Horsingdon and Harlow as ‘witchpaths’ on account of their association with the occult topography of the region. It is said that such routes intersect with those hidden realms which lurk beyond the visible world - and the inhabitants therein with whom the witches and sorcerers of old would often seek intercourse.

Such pathways were generally avoided by right-thinking folk - and still are to this day: the above road has largely fallen out of use; it is well-known that council workers will go out of their way to avoid having to effect repairs to the thoroughfare, and those who do find themselves engaged in the road’s upkeep ensure that they do not linger long in the area once their work is done.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon No.6: Doorways

Throughout Horsingdon, a number of doorways exist, usually inset against featureless but dilapdated walls which abut or stand in close proximity to a site associated with James Boreham - or with some other aspect of the region’s witchlore. None of the doors appear to constitute actual points of ingress, with some of the walls into which they are set only a foot or two thick. Seemingly leading to nowhere, each and everyone of the doors is locked - although on closer inspection, one can sometimes discern curious signs and symbols scratched into the peeling paint of their surfaces.

Whilst no one is quite sure of their purpose, or claims any knowledge as to where the keys to unlocking them may be found, some have suggested that the doorways are mere follies: the product of James Boreham’s madness; yet there also exists a more sinister folklore concerning the doorways - a folklore which infers a more diabolic origin and purpose: that they mark the site of ancient, neolithic sites which once formed portals to other realms: gateways subsequently employed by both the Horsingdon Coven and the Guardians of the Black Bowers for travelling without moving between the sacred sites of the region - as well as for communing with Those Who Wait and other monstrous powers...

Other suburban legendry recounts instances of those who have sought to penetrate the secrets of the doorways: often young men on a dare who, on breaking the locks and crossing the threshold of those doors, have never been seen again. It is also said that, on certain auspicious nights, the terrified shrieks of those lonesome souls forever trapped behind the doorways can be heard, echoing throughout eternity.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon No.5: Cleaners

Over the past year there have been persistent rumours of a ‘task force’ operating in and around Horsingdon, and colloquially referred to as ‘The Cleaners’ on account of their speculated role as some kind of praeternatural fumigation service; sanctioned by the Ministry (or Horsingdon council - or perhaps both) in the employment of otherwise-proscribed occult technologies, The Cleaners supposedly undertake a kind of esoteric cleansing of those zones and place infected by the malign paranormal forces which seem drawn to the region.

The above image was recently forwarded to me via an untraceable e-mail by that inscrutable person or personages going by the codename ‘Cold’, and claims to show a member of The Cleaners at work in the very same block of flats mentioned in yesterday’s post.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon No.4: Foundations

Scant days after its completion, this newly-built block of flats - across the road from Southcote Station (not far from Ash Grove, where I reside) - were subject to a compulsory purchase order, soon after which the doors and windows were all bricked up. This was, apparently, carried out by an anonymous group of individuals who arrived at the site in a black van, and who were only ever seen to wear white environmental overalls and black rubber filter masks for the duration of the work. Unsurprisingly, Horsingdon Borough Council have refused to comment on the matter.

Rumour has it that the new build stands on the site of an earlier structure: something far older, whose foundations when uncovered were left unreported during the development of the flat - foundations into which, perhaps, the developers delved too deeply...

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.3: Across a Spectrum of Malign Frequencies

Some two miles distant of  St. Osmund’s stands one of the curious transmitter relays which proliferate throughout the region. This particular example looms close upon the boundary between Horsingdon and Harlow parishes, and sits within the confines of an especially cosy, middle-class suburban enclave. At least, that is what you might think.

Housing prices hearabouts have seen a significant slump in recent years - unsurprising, one might argue, in the face of the uncertainties augured by the Brexit vote; yet residents hereabouts cite a different reason: that of the unsettling and apocalyptic dreams afflicting the inhabitants of those dwellings which in the vicinity of the transmitter, and a subsequent, depressive malaise which seems to have cast its brooding mantle across the area. Locals contend that the disturbing dreams began soon after the transmitter began broadcasting strange signals across a spectrum of malign frequencies - transmissions which, incidentally, they claim also began shortly after the result of the referendum was made public.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon No.2: Pareidolia

The upper window of a dilapidated building which once served as a Funeral Directors - and previously owned by James Boreham -  across the road from St. Osmund’s Church.

I took this photo yesterday evening during an exploration of the recently restored site. If you look carefully, it appears as if some misshapen figure with a bulbous-yet-skeletal visage is peering out towards St. Osmund’s.

Most likely a trick of the light.

Unless, of course, one gives credence to those persistent rumours surrounding the Boreham family - rumours intimating some alien and inhuman ancestry, sealed by ancient pacts with unnameable powers, and occasionally and unexpectedly manifest in the most monstrous of ways within the scions of that bloodline...

Malign Frequencies - Further Transmissions from Horsingdon No.1: Restoration

The restored spire of St. Osmund’s Church in the parish of Horsingdon.

Whilst a certain calm has fallen upon the borough over the past twelvemonth, its older residents are all too well aware that such an extended period of quietude is itself an uncanny occurence - one typically forshadowing some frantic and tumultuous intrusion from out of those unseen and unformed territories whose metaphysical borders overlap the more corporeal boundaries of the region.

The rebuilding of St. Ormund’s has also, it seems, led to a resoration of another kind: an utter erasure of the building’s praeternatural imprint upon the Horsingdon landscape - a kind of ontological resetting to some frighteningly primordial and abysmal state of utter, entropic absence.

The interior of the church now feels asceptic, sterile - almost inimical to presences both natural and supernatural. Rumour has it that this is the result of an especially terminal exorcism conducted by unknown parties during the reconstruction of St. Osmund’s spire.

The Boreham Mausoleum which once stood within the church grounds - now vacated by its previous inhabitant (whose whereabouts remains unknown) in the aftermath of an act of occult desecration - has been entirely demolished, the lower portions of its crypt having been filled in with concrete.

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon: Primer

Today sees the Ghooric Zone return once more to Horsingdon - that anomalous zone (but local to me - indeed, it exists just beyond my doorstep) which exemplifies what I like to call the suburban wyrd (a neologism of sorts, but also an outcropping of the category of the urban wyrd).

Whilst the suburban has conontations of the pedestrian, the everyday, the mundane, it is also a category which - to employ a sadly overused term where such matters are concerned - has a liminal quality to it. Suburban areas are, by definition, outliers to the centres of metropolitan modernity, and much like the Greater London Borough of Horsingdon, once existed as villages and settlements which, whilst entangled with the wider concerns of city life, nonetheless intersected with and spilled over into rurality, into unformed wilderness, and into another, spectral kind of realm altogether...

Welcome to a series of daily broadcasts, whose trajectory can be mapped through the malign frequencies emanating from those unseen territories.

Welcome to Horsingdon.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018): Epilogue

And so with the previous year’s ending, we reach the termination of another annual Lovecraftian Thing a Day  - although in truth this last year of blogging felt like more of an effort that 2016’s offering, which was a fresh idea at the time, and fueled my creative juices by way of the short fictive narratives which I tied to many of the entries (regular readers of 2018’s posts will have noticed that I ceased including said narratives about half-way through that year’s entries). Whilst it has, nonetheless, been an enjoyable experience, I don’t expect to be returning to the Lovecraftian Thing a Day in 2020 (I may revisit it again, but I think it needs to lie fallow for a few years before I do so).

In any case, I would like to thank regular readers for their support, Facebook likes, and comments throughout 2018.

What next, then, for Whispers From The Ghooric Zone? When I began the first Lovecraftian Thing a Day  in 2016, it was conceived as part of a five year cycle of daily blogging, with the Thing a Day running during 2016, 2018, and 2020, with something else appearing in the alternating years; in 2017, that was The Horsingdon Transmissions; whilst it never received the same amount of traffic (and appears to have been less popular than the Thing a Day), The Horsingdon Transmissions is one of the things I’m most proud off in terms of recent creative output; whilst I’m perhaps in danger of repeating the mistakes of the past, something akin to a second series of The Horsingdon Transmissions will, therefore, be appearing on your digital doorstep later in the day.

Until then - be seeing you!

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.365: ‘You Exude A Cosmic Darkness’

Best Christmas present. Ever.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.364: More Than One Necronomicon...

More of Allen Koszowski’s marvellous, colourised work in our penultimate Lovecraftian Thing a Day, depicting the Revelations of Glaaki (or, more properly as it should now be, The Revelations of Gla’aki), along with the dreaded Necronomicon.


Speaking of which, give me Koszowski’s illustration any day over another recent purchase: Karl Stone’s edition of the Necronomicon, which problematically ‘borrows’ from both the style and substance of the classic Hay-Wilson version of said tome; I suppose that, at least where the Stone edition is concerned, by purchasing an overpriced ‘talismanic’ paperback, you are at least vouchsafed access to Stone’s ‘sexo-magickal’ formula (whatever that means) for invoking the powers of the Cthulhu mythos; that said, other self-proclaimed occultural experts on the internet seem to think there is some value to Stone’s work, so what do I know...

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.363: Lovecraft Portrait

A signed, colourised print of a Lovecraft portrait by Allen Koszowski, which I purchased from the artist at NecronomiCon 2013.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.362: In The Yaddith Time illustration.

This original pen-and-ink piece hy Steve Lines was, as I recall, produced as one of the illustrations to Ann K. Schwader’s Lovecraftian sonnet cycle, In The Yaddith Time. Nice.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.361: An Inhabitant of Innsmouth

This remarkable sculpture of a Deep One hybrid - produced hy the hugely-talented Lovecaftian artist Dave Carson - found its way into my haul of Christmas presents this year. I’ve been accumulating these original pieces of Dave Carson’s work for about a decade now, and I have to say this is one of the most unsettling items in my collection...

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.360: Lovecraftian Tea Mug

As part of ths year’s Christmas haul, I received this very nice tea mug from my sister, inscribed with the classic opening lines from Lovecraft’s masterful survey of weird fiction, Supernatural Horror in Literature. Nice.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.359: Seasons Greetings

Seasons Greetings - courtesy of The Good Friends of Jackson Elias!

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.358: Await Further Instructions

Horror is often at its best when it is being used for the purpose of social commentary - and that certainly seems to be the case with recent British film Await Further Instructions, which utilises the genre to reflect on the emboldened racism and paranoia that has emerged in the UK in the aftermath of the Brexit vote;  it is also a commentary on our increasing willingness to accept the vision of the world which is communicated to us through mass media; however, on both counts Await Further Instructions takes an unsubtle and heavy-handed approach, which at times come across as patronising to its viewers; it also tends to reproduce the same divisory politics it criticises, relying on the well-worn and problematic trope that being British and working class means that, by default, you are racist - a trope often deployed by the British liberal middle classes to redirect attention away from their more subtle - but structurally more insidious - racism. 

I include the film here because, like yesterday’s Housewife, Await Further Instructions also includes an apocalyptic - and seemingly Lovecraftian - ending. Whilst a better movie than Housewife, and despite the Lovecraftian elements in its final act, Await Further Instructions is not a strong recommend.

The Lovecraftan Thing a Day (2018) No.357: Housewife

Housewife is a recent horror movie by Can Evrenol (director of the acclaimed, Barkeresque Baskin) whose apocalyptic denouement has a distinctly Lovecaftian tenor to it (re: the tentacles on the cover photo above); yet for all the accolades which have been heaped upon Baskin, this it actually a very poor follow-up - specifically on account of the incredibly stilted, unbelievable, and altogether bad performances by the principle cast - more of a curiosity of Lovecaftian film-making than a must see, I’m afraid.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.356: Downtown Providence Map

As any seasoned weirdster will be aware, it is never too early to begin putting together your convention survival kit; whilst it is a good way off, I’m prepping for NecronomiCon 2019 by reviewing my map of Downtown Providence.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.355: Dark Adventure Theatre Radio Collector’s Prop Binder

The H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society’s Dark Adventure Radio Theatre has done an outstanding job of producing excellent audio dramatisations of Lovecraft’s own work (as well as original Lovecraft-adjacent pieces and dramatisations of classic Call of Cthulhu rpg scenarios). Notably, the hard-copy cds of these audio productions also come with some quite remarkable thematic props - none of which quite fit back into the cd casings once they have been opened.

Helpfully, the HPLHS now offers an organisational solution to ths problem, with ths very handsome Dark Adventure Radio Theatre Collector’s Prop Binder, which includes themed sleeves in which to store the aforementioned props for all of the 19 currently available Dark Adventure Radio Theatre cds.

Nice.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.354: Faunus 38 & Machenalia

It’s that time of year again when a soft thud upon the doormat announces the timely pre-Yule arrival of the latest editions of Faunus: The Journal of the Friends of Arthur Machen, and Machenalia, the newsletter of that fine organisation (which reminds me: it is time to renew my annual subscription to The Friends). Notably, this issue of Faunus also includes an investigation into possible sources for Machen’s The White People - considered by many (Lovecraft included) to be one of the finest weird tales ever written.

As per usual, you can join The Friends of Arthur Machen here, for an annual subscription of a mere 19 of your finest (pre-Brexit) British pounds.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.353: HPLHS Decoder Club

I appear to have inadvertantly joined the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society’s Dark Adventure Radio Decoder Club, which means that, using the rather attractive Dark Pharaoh/Nyarlathotep-styled decoder badge, I can henceforth unravel various secret macabre messages which will be appearing as part of future HPLHS audio releases. Nice.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.352: An Illustrated Fungi from Yuggoth

Employing disc journal technology and a laser printer, I recently constructed this uniquel copy of Lovecraft’s The Fungi from Yuggoth, using the work of Eric York, whose complete, illustrated version of the sonnet cycle is freely available here. In truth, this is probably a test run, as I’m thinking about printing out another copy, but on cream vellum paper, then binding the sheets in soft black leather covers. Nice.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.351: Carnacki, The Ghost Finder.

William Hope Hodgson has been rather under-represented here and, given that this year also marks the centenary of his death, it seems apposite to emphasise the importance of his legacy in relation to both the history of the history tale and that of cosmic horror. To this end, today we present one of the first Hodgson books we purchased back in the late 1980s: Carnacki, the Ghost Finder.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.350: Of Doomful Portent

A festive offering today, by way of Matthew M. Bartlett and Yves Tourigny’s Of Doomful Portent: An Advent Calendar of Grotesque Horrors. I picked this unusual chapbook - which consiss of 25 sealed sections, each of which, when opened up, reveals an illustration and piece of short weird fiction with a seasonal theme. I picked this limited edition up at NecronomiCon 2017, but have only began a readthrough at the start of this December. Readers of this blog will, I imagine, be familiar with Matthew M.Bartlett’s name by way of his tales of aural weird horror (which I think I have characterised elsewhere as a mashup of Lovecaft and William Burroughs). Of Doomful Portent is also available in standard paperback format if you are looking for a dose of festive horror.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.349: The Three Imposters

71 years ago, Arthur Machen passed into whatever speculative realm lies beyond the material curtain of this world. The fact that the contours of the field of weird fiction as they exist today would have been unrecognisable without Machen’s influence is a testament to his legacy.

Presented here is a copy of Machen’s episodic novel The Three Imposters - published by Everyman, and sporting an Aubrey Beardsley cover which unintentionally (but wonderfully-) evokes the weirdly -sinister character of Miss Lally - and which of course includes two of the classic,  of weird fiction by way of ‘The White Powder’ and ‘The Novel of the Black Seal’.

I bought this copy of The Three Imposters in Camden Lock in the late 1990s - a time during which that particular region of London had yet to be entirely gentrified; such, it still maintained a remnant of the peculiarly Machenesque urban mystique which (in the mind of this reader, at least), had come to define the hidden hieroglyphics of London’s esoteric typography.

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.348: Necronomicon Shot Cup

Today is my last day of teaching until January, so what better way to mark the start of the Yule festival than with a favourite tipple from this collapsible shot cup - which comes with additional warding by way of the (in)famous Simon Necronomicon sigil?

Make mine a cognac!

The Lovecraftian Thing a Day (2018) No.347: Disk Journal Tenacle Bookmark

Disk journals are my newest, stationary-themed obsession; I recently purchased a rather nice red leather disk journal, and wanted to personalise it with a few weird accessories: first up is this disk journal tentacle bookmark, which I cobbled together using various odds and ends which I purchased online. Nice.