Cthulhu Cthursday: Neil Gaiman's "I, Cthulhu"

For your Cthulhu Cthursday reading, Neil Gaiman’s famous confessional by the squid god himself, I, Cthulhu, or What’s A Tentacle-Faced Thing Like Me Doing In A Sunken City Like This (Latitude 47 ° 9’ S, Longitude 126 ° 43’ W): Cthulhu, they call me. Great Cthulhu. Nobody can pronounce it right. Are you writing this […]

Cthulhu

For your Cthulhu Cthursday reading, Neil Gaiman's famous confessional by the squid god himself, I, Cthulhu, or What’s A Tentacle-Faced Thing Like Me Doing In A Sunken City Like This (Latitude 47 ° 9’ S, Longitude 126 ° 43’ W):

Cthulhu, they call me. Great Cthulhu.

Nobody can pronounce it right.

Are you writing this down? Every word? Good. Where shall I start…mm?

Very well, then. The beginning. Write this down, Whateley.

I was spawned uncounted aeons ago, in the dark mists of Khhaa’yngnaiih (no, of course I don’t know how to spell it. Write it as it sounds), of nameless nightmare parents, under a gibbous moon. It wasn’t the moon of this planet, of course, it was a real moon. On some nights it filled over half the sky and as it rose you could watch the crimson blood drip and trickle down its bloated face, staining it red, until at its height it bathed the swamps and towers in a gory dead red light.

Those were the days.

If only Robert Graves had had such a fascinating subject.

I, Cthulhu [Neil Gaiman] (Thanks, Georgene!)