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ekZepp ekZepp @lemmy.world

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[Forever-Free Friday] Knightfall: A Daring Journey on Steam

store.steampowered.com Knightfall: A Daring Journey on Steam

Two knights, a strong bond, and a long journey. Take up the race for the rose, ride from town to town and take shelter before nightfall by any means necessary! If your bond is strong and your horse drifts well, you can be the recipient of the fabled rose. Luckily you brought guns!

Knightfall: A Daring Journey on Steam

Two knights, a strong bond, and a long journey. Take up the race for the rose, ride from town to town and take shelter before nightfall by any means necessary! If your bond is strong and your horse drifts well, you can be the recipient of the fabled rose. Luckily you brought guns!

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These AI generated pics are becoming impossible to spot
  • Maybe is just a theme šŸ¤·ā€ā™‚ļø

  • These AI generated pics are becoming impossible to spot
  • tricky but doable

    prompt: lemmy.world average user,

    this one could be my twin.

  • These AI generated pics are becoming impossible to spot
  • That's part of the "messy hands"

  • These AI generated pics are becoming impossible to spot
  • I've seen enough posts on Instagram to not be surprised by idiots ruining a perfectly good tent just for a shot šŸ¤·ā€ā™‚ļø

  • caturday
  • This belong to [email protected]

  • The Emperor
  • il_340x270.3121711975_6r24-1044595099

  • The Art of the Deal
  • "Ok Elon honey, as usual"

  • These AI generated pics are becoming impossible to spot
  • A smart move would have been to put a real photo here and then troll all the comments about uncanny valley ...and by smart I mean evil.

    ...

    I will totally do that in future.

    ( btw. the hands are still messy ā˜ļø)

  • I haven't read any Brian Lumley before but do far I'm enjoying Psychomech (1984)
  • https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1478699.Psychomech

    Richard Garrison, a Corporal in the British Military Police, loses his sight while trying to save the wife and child of millionaire industrialist Thomas Schroeder from a terrorist bomb. While Garrison is recovering from his injuries, Schroeder makes him an offer the young man cannot refuseā€”refuge at Schroederā€™s luxurious mountain retreat and rehabilitation from the best doctors who can treat Garrisonā€™s blindness, and, if not cure him, at least teach him a new way of life. But Thomas Schroeder has a secret. He is dying and determined not to lose his life. The doctors tell him his body cannot be saved. But about his mind? Garrisonā€™s healthy young body would make an excellent replacement for Schroederā€™s failing corpus, if the machines to perform the operation can be perfected in time. Garrison has secrets of his own. Since the bombing that caused a loss of his sight, Garrison has become aware of new abilities slowly developing in his mind: mental powers he is beginning to master; strengths Schroeder cannot expect.

    Wow! This plot is a trip! I have to give it a go. Nice one šŸ‘Œ

  • 13 Skin-Crawling Cosmic Horror Books | theportalist.com

    https://theportalist.com/cosmic-horror-books -

    >From the nihilistic absurdity of Thomas Ligotti to the heavily science-fictional chills of Jeff VanderMeerā€™s Annihilation, the cosmic horror of today continues to tell tales of a vast, indifferent, and even carnivorous cosmos, through new lenses and fresh new perspectives.

    Here are a few of the best cosmic horror books from exciting writers new and oldā€”both those who were writing before Lovecraft appeared on the scene, and those who have come after.

    • At the Mountains of Madness by H. P. Lovecraft
    • The King in Yellow by Robert W. Chambers
    • The House on the Borderland by William Hope Hodgson
    • Malpertuis by Jean Ray
    • Volk by David Nickle
    • Cthulhuā€™s Daughters by Silvia Moreno-Garcia & Paula R. Stiles
    • The Fisherman by John Langan
    • The Secret of Ventriloquism by Jon Padgett
    • Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer
    • The Immaculate Void by Brian Hodge
    • Chills by Mary SanGiovanni
    • The Gone World by Tom Sweterlitsch
    • Uzumaki by Junji Ito
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    Watch out! The ghost has a gun!
  • Indeed funny cover choice šŸ”«šŸ‘»

    More on the story: https://lovecraft.fandom.com/wiki/The_Dweller_in_Darkness

    Weird Tales v38 (1944)

  • "Tod im All" by Fritz Schwimbeck (1919) šŸ‡©šŸ‡Ŗ
  • He lived through both of them.

    After World War I, Schwimbeck's focus shifted to subjects of the Neue Sachlichkeit, or New Objectivity. He acted on the imperative to react to the turmoil of the Weimar Era, moving his gaze from the fantastic to the objective truth

    https://www.anfainc.com/schwimbeck

  • I should start reding more books
  • lol, SCP-1730, over 10,000 words long. šŸ˜‚ Just a breeze.

  • The Lone Animator - Stop-motion monster movies and more.šŸ™
  • You're welcomešŸ‘. I also love stop-motion creation. His channel deserve way more views.

  • "Tod im All" by Fritz Schwimbeck (1919) šŸ‡©šŸ‡Ŗ

    Fritz Schwimbeck's "Tod im All" (Death in Space) is a work from his 1919 portfolio "Werden-Vergehen" (Creation-Death). Schwimbeck was a German Symbolist artist active in the early 20th century, known for his allegorical and mystical artworks. "Tod im All" represents the concept of death encompassing all of existence, with the human form dwarfed by the vastness of the cosmos.

    !

    >The Nightmare

    !

    >Fritz Schwimbeck Dracula, 1917

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    >Ewigkeit": Strahlender Planet Ć¼ber dem Eismeer , 1918

    https://www.artnet.com/artists/fritz-schwimbeck/

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    Book recommendations for cosmic horror on a spaceship
  • Blindsight by Peter Watts (firewall series)

    Hyperion by Dan Simmons

    Revelation Space series by Alastair Reynolds

    Alien by Alan Dean Foster

  • www.scientificamerican.com JWST Detects the Earliest, Most Distant Galaxy in the Known Universeā€”And Itā€™s Super Weird

    NASAā€™s James Webb Space Telescope observed an unusually large and highly luminous galaxy at a record-breaking 290 million years after the big bang

    JWST Detects the Earliest, Most Distant Galaxy in the Known Universeā€”And Itā€™s Super Weird

    Summ:

    • The James Webb Space Telescope (JWST) has discovered the most distant galaxy ever confirmed, named JADES-GS-z14-0, which appears as it existed just 290 million years after the Big Bang.

    • The discovery of this surprisingly luminous and massive early galaxy challenges theories about how galaxies formed in the cosmic dawn

    • JWST has been repeatedly breaking its own records for the most distant galaxies since beginning operations in 2022

    more about:

    https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cjeenyw8rd2o

    https://webbtelescope.org/contents/early-highlights/nasas-james-webb-space-telescope-finds-most-distant-known-galaxy

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    The Lone Animator - Stop-motion monster movies and more.šŸ™

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    Bluworm aka The Lone Animator create Stop-motion fantasy and monster movies based on author works, myth and folklore.

    >I'm a Swedish stop-motion puppet builder and animator who aims to enterain you with my homemade fantasy and monster movies. The subject matter of my films is a mixed bag, from Ray Harryhausen-inspired monsterfights, to the poetry of H P Lovecraft.

    ---

    Creating Cthulhu model

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    The Shadow Out of Time on YT | Link on invidious

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    Dagon YT | Link on Invidious

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    Strange Aeons YT | Link on invidious

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    Star-Winds YT | Link on Invidious

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    Memory YT | Link on Invidious

    More Lovecraft shorts -

    I suggest you to also watch the other videos of the channel, he's a true artist who put a lot of love into his works.

    https://loneanimator.blogspot.com/

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    Exploring the SCP Foundation: SCP-1730 - What Happened to Site 13? ā˜£ļø

    SCP-1730

    ---

    >For the greater good is a phrase that has been used in various forms throughout history to justify certain actions that would normally be considered abhorent. The SCP Foundation in general of course operates largely on this principle throughout most of their work, but often is the case where the foundation is ultimately correct in their choice of actions. SCP-1730 is a grand, detailed report of a situation where the foundation was profoundly, terribly, wrong.

    What Happened to Site 13?",

    The site, which is in a severe state of disrepair and located in Texas, is believed to have human survivors and is home to anomalous entities that reanimate the dead and drain their blood. The Foundation has sent several teams to investigate, but they have encountered various hazards...

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    [Old Article] Creepypasta - the internet is mapping the contours of modern fear | Aeon.co (+audio)

    Article: https://aeon.co/essays/creepypasta-is-how-the-internet-learns-our-fears

    Creepypasta aspires to be urban legend: dark social memes with just enough familiarity to give a frisson of awful possibility

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    The Best Horror Books of 2024 (So Far) | esquire.com

    www.esquire.com The Best Horror Books of 2024 (So Far)

    Our favorites are digging grim tunnels into territory old and new, from haunted houses to whimsical horror comedies.

    The Best Horror Books of 2024 (So Far)

    The best horror books of 2024 according to the Esquire (April 10)

    • The House of Last Resort by Peter Straub
    • This Wretched Valley by Lyndsey Kiefer
    • Among the Living by Adam Nevill
    • In the Valley of the Headless Men by HernĆ”n DĆ­az
    • The Haunting of Velkwood by Michael David Kiste
    • Mouth by Paul Tremblay
    • King Nyx by Christopher Golden
    • The Angel of Indian Lake by Graham Joyce
    • The Black Girl Survives in This One edited by Rion Amilcar Scott and Rebecca Roanhorse
    • Bless Your Heart by Alyssa Maxwell
    • Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke by John LaRocca
    • Diavola by Livia Llewellyn
    • The Underhistory by Tessa Warren
    • Incidents Around the House by Riley Sager (forthcoming
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    10 Lovecraft Stories That Need Modern Movie Adaptations | screenrant.com

    ARTICLE>> https://screenrant.com/lovecraft-stories-movie-adaptations-need-modern/

    H.P. Lovecraft was known for his fantastical novels, whose influence has bled into the cultural perception of horror, making them perfect for modern movie adaptations. Lovecraft is undoubtedly a flawed and prejudiced figure in literature, and any undertaking to adapt his stories should acknowledge the issues of racism, xenophobia, and homophobia in his work. Bringing Lovecraft into the modern era means doing his work justice, as well as exploring how they can be made more reflective of the present day.

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    Ground Score | Creepypasta

    Source

    I know why youā€™re here. Youā€™re here because you have some understanding of the things that go bump in the night and send waves of terror down your spine. You want to hear about the things that haunt the edges of your vision. You want to be scared.

    But why am I here?

    spoiler

    Iā€™m just like you, only one day the creepy part of my life could no longer be contained to the realm of other peoplesā€™ stories. Every person who writes one of these has had this moment. All of a sudden, everything is real an inescapable and you regret ever seeking a quick scare in the first place. Sometimes it happens on purpose, and sometimes it just pops up in an unexpected place and you donā€™t even realize it until itā€™s too late. Sorry for rambling, but this is one of those.

    It all began with a hippie roommate and Lot, or ā€œthe place where things get weird.ā€ Itā€™s a music festival, but itā€™s more. Lot is a place where music and people and drugs all become one (for the right price). If youā€™re really concerned about technicalities, itā€™s a version of the parking lots where Grateful Dead fans used to accumulate before/after/during shows.

    It was at one such show where it all changed.

    I was wandering around between bands one afternoon when a glimmer of something in the tall grass caught my eye. With a sense of childlike wonder one can only attribute to being high as a kite, I approached the shiny. When I got closer I saw that it was pouch of aluminum foil. Trash anywhere else, at a hippie festival this is a ground score. Like a child on Christmas I peeled open the little envelope to expose a few small squares of paper.

    Each of the squares was different. Iā€™d seen blotter acid a few times and recognized most of the prints. One was a mystery to me. I spent a lot of time fixating on it, but the best I could figure from the piece I had was that it was some kind of fractal with an odd script I didnā€™t quite recognize. When I first looked at my prize it had appeared to be purple and green, but later it seemed reddish. Who knows, because I promptly ate a few of the more familiar pieces and went about my weekend. Had a good time.

    When it was time to return to the real world, I brought the mystery dose home and promptly forgot about it.

    A few months later the restaurant I worked for closed and I found myself moving back in with my parents. Luckily, they were at the point in life where traveling had become a semi-regular occurrence and about two weeks into unemployment I found myself sitting in their empty house staring at my little foil pouch on a Saturday night.

    I was unburdened by responsibilities and my parents wouldnā€™t be home until next Friday, so I knew I had plenty of time for that mystery hit. I decided to take some time to fast and meditate to get the proper ā€˜setā€™ to go with my setting and the unknown dosages I was in for. I took the hit around six in the evening and watched dusk creep in.

    I started watching some Doctor Who around seven, and began to feel screwed about nine. I know itā€™s wrong to feel screwed out of something free, but I was really excited about this unknown experience. It was looking like it was all for nothing. By 10:30 I had retired to my normal evening past time of browsing r/nosleep and assorted creepypasta archives while making sarcastic and skeptical comments. Something about laughing at the story that just made me pee myself a little softened the blow, doing wonders to alleviate my fears.

    A little bit before midnight, and long after Iā€™d written off the drug, it felt like lead ball fell in my stomach. I doubled over in surprise and tried to catch my breath. I thought I heard someone laughing. I closed my eyes as another wave of cramping shot through my guts and when I opened them everything had gone grey.

    Usually acid made my world vibrant and new, but this was just scary. The shadows seemed to pulse and ebb with some sort of malicious intent I couldnā€™t quite understand. I quickly pulled my feet up to the couch and wrapped my arms around my legs. I sat there shaking for what felt like hours. Any time I glanced at the clock it said the same thing: 00:00.

    I kept reminding myself that this was a drug-induced state, that this would eventually end and everything would go back to normal. Itā€™s the hardest thing to believe when you begin to loose yourself, and the overwhelming despair that threatened to drown me was making my situation even more difficult. The shadows seemed tangible as they ebbed towards my upholstered sanctuary, and I knew dread. Not the fight or flight, adrenaline-pumping terror, but a deep certainty that something was wrong, I was in danger, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

    I still donā€™t know why I thought it would help to close my eyes.

    Tortured faces, distorted in agony, screamed behind my eyelids. I only saw their faces, so I was left to imagine the cause of their misery. As soon as their eyes began to cloud over to embrace death as their final relief, they would be replaced by a new victim. And screamingā€¦

    I didnā€™t understand how I could have missed that screaming before; it seemed to be surrounding me. It sounded off though, like some demented sound editor chose only the peak moments of anguish from thousands of screams and blended them together in an unending loop of the most brutal and unnerving compilation of human suffering. A blood curdling shriek from the pale blonde housewife faded into a teenaged boy groaning into a old manā€™s wail into another face and another voice.

    When I opened my eyes, the faces were gone. The shadows seemed subdued, no longer emanating the same aggression that was so intimidating before. The screaming continued though. It was soft and nagging, barely louder than the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I figured I could tune it out with a little music. Hopefully, the right tunes would draw me to a better trip on their own.

    I couldnā€™t find my iPod, so I weighed my options. I could risk it with the TV, but I had some mildly unsettling experiences in the past involving cable while tripping so that should probably stay out. The entire CD collection in my momā€™s 50-disc changer was hair metal, country, and adult contemporary. Computers, with their screens and mouses and keyboards, are just too hard for one in my condition. Time to fall back on vinyl.

    Iā€™m going to interject here things I wish I would have remembered before getting my heart set on some Beatles. Thing the first is that the record player was located in a spare bedroom on the far end of my basement. The room in itself was nice enough ever since I cleaned and furnished it to have a ā€˜me zoneā€™ when I was a teen, but thatā€™s where the next thing comes in. The rest of my basement was an unfinished pit full of junk we were too frugal to throw away but hadnā€™t missed in years. I mean, concrete floors, exposed rafters, constant leaking, and plywood ā€˜wallsā€™ separating the rooms. You also had to walk through the cluttered garage and down the stairs with the impossible to reach light bulb socket to get there.

    Filled with the bravado of my new mission, I began my journey. The trek went smoothly enough through the well lit garage, but the stairs were menacing even when sober. When the bulb that lit the stairwell burnt out, replacing it involved a precarious arrangement involving balancing our ladder about two-thirds of the way up the stairs. All Iā€™m trying to say is, this bulb was seldom replaced. With the unlit basement waiting at the bottom, the pool of garage light seemed powerless against the shadows.

    As I began the long descent, I watched as the amorphous tentacles of darkness crawled up the pale wall past me. It was surrounding me. I didnā€™t brace myself with the handrail for fear this thing hiding in the dim corners of my world might touch me. I jumped and tripped down the last couple of stairs and stumbled through the basement door. I could have sworn I heard my name in the screaming.

    At this volume, the screams were almost like a song. They were still as gut-wrenchingly brutal as ever, but now that it wasnā€™t as overwhelming I could hear how the rise and fall and changes in tone between the screams meshed together to resemble something like the slow, drawn out chanting of monks. Maybe my mind was just looking for patterns, trying to make sense of this chaos any way it could.

    I felt around on the wall for the light switch I knew had always been there. I knew this basement well, but for some reason I couldnā€™t find the switch. The darkness seemed to throb while I continued my search in vain.

    My only option was to sprint to the corner where the next light switch was. For some reason I didnā€™t want to show weakness to the shadows that were threatening my sanity, if not my very existence. That, and my fear of physical contact with the shadows, kept me from safely feeling my way along the wall like a sane person. I darted to the point where I thought the corner was and reached for the light to my left.

    There was nothing. No wall, and certainly no instant safety brought on by a welcome pool of light. I ran blindly, now certain this was not a safe place to be. I couldnā€™t see the light from the garage where I had come in, and I began to panic. I thundered through another door and finally found the light switch Iā€™d been searching so desperately for. Somehow I had found my way to my room, my sanctuary, and there was light.

    The light was so welcome at first that I didnā€™t miss color. Compared to the unknown Iā€™d traveled through to get here, even the sharp shadows cast by the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling were accepted. I couldnā€™t welcome the sight of anything that menacing, that ominous, but at least I knew where it was and where it stopped. If I could see it, I could run away; if I could see it, I would be safe.

    I was beginning to think everything was going to be okay after all. If I couldnā€™t get myself out of this bad trip, I could still exert control, even if only by responding rationally to an irrational situation. I convinced myself that I was on the other side of the peak and that things would only get better from this point. I fired up the turn-table and started digging through the vinyl bin.

    I needed something mellow enough to calm me down, familiar enough to take me to a good place, and trippy enough to distract me. That meant the acid rock classic, Sergeant Pepper. Iā€™d tripped to it many times, and it was a sort of stand-by.

    I started up a couple of novelty lights I had (a variety of colored lights and a laser light projector). Soon I was ignoring the menacing shadows on the floor in favor of the shifting patterns on my ceiling. I was getting through this trauma with a little help from my friends. When it came time for Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds, I fell into the song as I had many times before.

    My eyes slid shut as I began to picture myself in a boat on a river in a wonderful, awesome, and colorful world. Somebody called me, and I turned in my mind to the place where the girl with kaleidoscope eyes often stood. She was there, but she too was screaming. Her eyes werenā€™t the pools of color I was used to getting lost in, but pits writhing with the constant swell of the shadows. The screams came back with renewed vigor, drowning out John Lennonā€™s attempts to soothe my freakout. In my mind, I turned to run from the terrifying vision of Lucy, and was greeted by tangerine trees smoldering against a ash-streaked marmalade sky. The shades of grey invaded my imagination; painting the entire landscape in harsh and uninspired tones.

    When I opened my eyes, I was relieved to see traces of color had slipped in under the radar while I had been gone. The warm colors seemed to be creeping back in through the reds in the wood paneled walls and the lights I was running cast intermittent beams of red light through the otherwise greyscale world. As welcome as the small step towards normalcy was, the red glow was almost as unsettling as the shadows. I stood up to kill the lights and locked eyes with my reflection in a mirror across the room.

    The woman in the mirror looked just like me. She had my hair, my nose, my mouth. But her mouth was screaming. I could hear her clearly in my mind not instead of the other screams, but over them. The chorus of shrieks seemed to be speeding up, sounding more and more like a message. If only I would stop screaming, maybe I could make out what they were trying to tell me.

    The eyes in the mirror were just like the girl in my mind: oceans of darkness and menace twisting and surging against the surface and threatening to break free. I lifted my hands to my mouth and found it closed as Iā€™d expected, though Iā€™d hoped I really was the one screaming. My mirror self also lifted her hand to her mouth. She had a pistol in her hands. I watched anxiously as she placed the barrel in her mouth. Her screaming had stopped, but I filled the vacancy with my own.

    I turned away when she put her finger on the trigger. I heard the gunshot. I couldnā€™t bring myself to look at the mirror again. I couldnā€™t sit by and idly watch myself blow my brains out, and I didnā€™t want to see what was left of me. I wrapped myself head to toe in an old sleeping bag and curled up in the recliner. The looping screams continued to build momentum, coming faster and faster until it was impossible to deny it was a carefully crafted message.

    The shadows inched closer to me, licking the floor at the base of my chair. The dread that had been growing since this started had grown into an inferno of terrified adrenaline, with every muscle in my body pleading me to run. As much as I wanted to flee, to escape this horror, I knew it would follow me wherever I went. I knew the shadows would always be a few steps outside of the light, creeping and waiting. For now, they seemed content to toy with me. The darkness seemed eager, but for whatever reason it wasnā€™t closing in. Was it waiting for something?

    On queue, the looping chain of cries grew almost deafening. After listening to the repetition for so long, it was hard to hear anything but disjointed syllables. Unfortunately, like Mad Gabs, once it clicked it was impossible not to hear.

    ā€œJenny, we are the monsters in the shadows. We are the things that go bump in the night. Weā€™ve been watching you.ā€

    I remained in my cocoon until the sun lit my basement room. I never bothered to turn the record over, I just sat in the red room and stared at the grasping fingers of my shadowed tormentors. I ran through the basement up into the house like my life depended on it. Maybe because it did.

    The rest of the colors came back gradually once I was upstairs and in the sunlight. I figured I was straight again. That was about noon on Monday. I wasted the rest of the day playing mindless flash games and watching Netflix. Everything was golden until I went to bed.

    I havenā€™t been able to sleep. According to my computer, itā€™s Thursday. That means itā€™s been five days. Five days and every time I close my eyes I see the same victims from before, only now Iā€™m just watching them die. The housewife appears and sobs softly before letting go of her suffering. The teenage boy cries out for his mother one last time. The old man chokes mid-scream and twitches silently for a few moments.

    The screams have stopped. I actually havenā€™t heard them at all since I deciphered the message. Thatā€™s all they needed to say to me. I never thought Iā€™d say this, but I wish theyā€™d come back. I wish they would tell me what they want from me. The silence is deafening.

    I keep catching glimpses of myself in the mirror. I canā€™t bring myself to look directly at it. Iā€™m terrified thatā€™s their last message for me. They wanted me to see it the first time, but I ignored them. Theyā€™re telling me what I have to do. Theyā€™re showing me the way out.

    My parents will be home tomorrow. I only have to make it one more night and Mommy and Daddy will be here to make it safe and warm. I made sure to turn on all of the lights in the house well before dusk, but that doesnā€™t keep them away entirely. There will always be another dark corner and another void behind the couch or under the bed. They always find a place to creep in, and they are constantly reaching just a little further into the light than they should.

    The light in the kitchen just flickered out. Only an extremely paranoid person would say this is anything more than chance. Then again, the bathroom down the hall just went dark.

    There are things that reside in the dark corners of our world. They are very real, and they donā€™t like to be mocked.

    (Click spoiler for the full story)

    !

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    [Book] The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle (2016)

    cross-posted from: https://lemmy.world/post/16605709

    > The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle is a novella that reimagines H.P. Lovecraft's "The Horror at Red Hook" from the perspective of an African-American protagonist, Charles Thomas Tester, in 1920s Harlem. The story follows Tommy, a street hustler who navigates the city's racial tensions and occult circles while dealing with his own struggles and the looming threat of a catastrophic event. > > > People move to New York looking for magic and nothing will convince them it isnā€™t there. > > > >Charles Thomas Tester hustles to put food on the table, keep the roof over his fatherā€™s head, from Harlem to Flushing Meadows to Red Hook. He knows what magic a suit can cast, the invisibility a guitar case can provide, and the curse written on his skin that attracts the eye of wealthy white folks and their cops. But when he delivers an occult tome to a reclusive sorceress in the heart of Queens, Tom opens a door to a deeper realm of magic, and earns the attention of things best left sleeping. > > >A storm that might swallow the world is building in Brooklyn. Will Black Tom live to see it break?ā€ > > Reviews > - > goodreads | bookjockeyalex.com | efsunland.com > > Interview with Victor LaValle - article > > The Ballad of Black Tom: A Love Letter to Eldritch Horror - video review > > > !

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    [Book] The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle (2016)

    The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle is a novella that reimagines H.P. Lovecraft's "The Horror at Red Hook" from the perspective of an African-American protagonist, Charles Thomas Tester, in 1920s Harlem. The story follows Tommy, a street hustler who navigates the city's racial tensions and occult circles while dealing with his own struggles and the looming threat of a catastrophic event.

    > People move to New York looking for magic and nothing will convince them it isnā€™t there.

    >Charles Thomas Tester hustles to put food on the table, keep the roof over his fatherā€™s head, from Harlem to Flushing Meadows to Red Hook. He knows what magic a suit can cast, the invisibility a guitar case can provide, and the curse written on his skin that attracts the eye of wealthy white folks and their cops. But when he delivers an occult tome to a reclusive sorceress in the heart of Queens, Tom opens a door to a deeper realm of magic, and earns the attention of things best left sleeping.

    >A storm that might swallow the world is building in Brooklyn. Will Black Tom live to see it break?ā€

    Reviews - goodreads | bookjockeyalex.com | efsunland.com

    Interview with Victor LaValle - article

    The Ballad of Black Tom: A Love Letter to Eldritch Horror - video review

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    wccftech.com [Updated: Epic Statement] Major Epic Leak Hints at Unannounced Games Coming to Epic Games Store

    A major Epic leak might hint at plenty of unannounced games coming to the Epic Games Store, including Sony titles.

    [Updated: Epic Statement] Major Epic Leak Hints at Unannounced Games Coming to Epic Games Store
    3

    The Oversimplified SCP - Web Comics

    COMICS - The Oversimplified SCP is a web-based comic series that documents the SCP Foundation. The series is presented in a simplified and humorous manner.

    • Alternative Name: Introducing SCP roughly
    • Genre(s):Horror,Mystery,Sci Fi,Supernatural
    • Author(s): SCP Foundation writers
    • Artist(s): ę¾(A惻TYPEcorp.)
    • Status(s):Ongoing Oversimplified SCP 174 will coming soon

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