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roseembolism) wrote2018-10-30 10:25 pm
roseembolism) wrote2018-10-30 10:25 pm
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(Repost) Thirtieth Minor Spirit of October: the Great God Nyarlthotep
Reposted from...elsewhere.
Thirtieth Minor Spirit of October
The Great God Nyarlathotep
Instead of Inktober, I'm doing a spirit a day for October.
When the light of the sun faded, and the shadows gathered around the mountain meadow, the elder god Nyarlathotep stepped out into the clearing from the surrounding pines. While moonlight limned the eastern mountains, it strode to the top of of the hill, and just as the limb of the full moon appeared over the rim of the tallest peak, it unfurled its face tentacle to its fullest extent and howled- a wail that echoed with the vast horror of an uncaring cosmos.
“Be careful,” my partner whispered in my ear. “Don’t step on it.”
I put my hands on my knees and looked down at the elder god Nyarlathotep. “Aww. ¿Quien es el pequeño elder god más lindo?”
She sighed. “Yes it’s very cute. No you can’t pet it. No you can’t take it home.”
I looked at the elder god speculatively. ”I bet it would fit in my water bottle.”
“Oh come on, you wouldn’t even let me have a dog.”
“It was a Black Hound.”
“Still.”
I sighed. “So anyway, What’s its deal? It’s so small.”
She shrugged. Nyarlathotep gave out another eerie howl, that only we could hear.
“Well, nobody’s quite sure, but people people in the know have been arguing for a long time about spirits. “Some think spirits are products of collective belief. Humanity creates gods.
I considered. “So it’s small because only a few people believe in it.”
“Others think spirits always existed independent of humanity, and developed a symbiotic relationship with us.”
The great god Nyarlathotep let out another moan. I resisted the urge to pick it up. “So I guess that question is settled?”
She snorted. “Like hell. The counter-argument is that some minor spirits imprinted themselves on a couple of susceptible minds.”
“What do you think?”
She scowled, eyeing Nyarlthotep.
"Well?"
She said slowly “I have a friend who’s a witch in New England. She says one night she found a Cthulhu on the beach. It was knee high and and kind of ugly-cute, like a star mole.”
“So?”
She crouched down, looking at it with an unreadable expression. At last she sighed.
“I think we need to stick around, and make sure it doesn’t get eaten by an owl, or caught by a cultist or something.”
“Would they worship it or something? Make...make it bigger?”
The great god Nyarlathotep finished howling, and began stumping down the hill, zig-zagging around patches of mayflowers. A gleam of light down the hill caught my eye. There were voices.
“Quiet!” Someone yelled. “Have some dignity! We’re supposed to be moving with worshipful comportment!”
“But there’s brambles here!”
Her lips compressed into a thin line. “No. But they’d whine. Nothing annoys me like the whining of disillusioned white guys.”
We eased into the woods, following the trail of the Great God Nyarlathotep, until it disappeared under a clump of ferns.
The Great God Nyarlathotep
Instead of Inktober, I'm doing a spirit a day for October.
When the light of the sun faded, and the shadows gathered around the mountain meadow, the elder god Nyarlathotep stepped out into the clearing from the surrounding pines. While moonlight limned the eastern mountains, it strode to the top of of the hill, and just as the limb of the full moon appeared over the rim of the tallest peak, it unfurled its face tentacle to its fullest extent and howled- a wail that echoed with the vast horror of an uncaring cosmos.
“Be careful,” my partner whispered in my ear. “Don’t step on it.”
I put my hands on my knees and looked down at the elder god Nyarlathotep. “Aww. ¿Quien es el pequeño elder god más lindo?”
She sighed. “Yes it’s very cute. No you can’t pet it. No you can’t take it home.”
I looked at the elder god speculatively. ”I bet it would fit in my water bottle.”
“Oh come on, you wouldn’t even let me have a dog.”
“It was a Black Hound.”
“Still.”
I sighed. “So anyway, What’s its deal? It’s so small.”
She shrugged. Nyarlathotep gave out another eerie howl, that only we could hear.
“Well, nobody’s quite sure, but people people in the know have been arguing for a long time about spirits. “Some think spirits are products of collective belief. Humanity creates gods.
I considered. “So it’s small because only a few people believe in it.”
“Others think spirits always existed independent of humanity, and developed a symbiotic relationship with us.”
The great god Nyarlathotep let out another moan. I resisted the urge to pick it up. “So I guess that question is settled?”
She snorted. “Like hell. The counter-argument is that some minor spirits imprinted themselves on a couple of susceptible minds.”
“What do you think?”
She scowled, eyeing Nyarlthotep.
"Well?"
She said slowly “I have a friend who’s a witch in New England. She says one night she found a Cthulhu on the beach. It was knee high and and kind of ugly-cute, like a star mole.”
“So?”
She crouched down, looking at it with an unreadable expression. At last she sighed.
“I think we need to stick around, and make sure it doesn’t get eaten by an owl, or caught by a cultist or something.”
“Would they worship it or something? Make...make it bigger?”
The great god Nyarlathotep finished howling, and began stumping down the hill, zig-zagging around patches of mayflowers. A gleam of light down the hill caught my eye. There were voices.
“Quiet!” Someone yelled. “Have some dignity! We’re supposed to be moving with worshipful comportment!”
“But there’s brambles here!”
Her lips compressed into a thin line. “No. But they’d whine. Nothing annoys me like the whining of disillusioned white guys.”
We eased into the woods, following the trail of the Great God Nyarlathotep, until it disappeared under a clump of ferns.