Shotguns v. Cthulhu
Robin D. Laws
Language: English
Pages: 292
ISBN: 1908983019
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Pulse-pounding action meets cosmic horror in this exciting collection from the rising stars of the New Cthulhuiana, as humanity takes up arms against the monsters and gods of H. P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos. The fighting takes place in the past, present, and future, from the birth of the shotgun to the end of the world, and contributors who boast high name recognition among today's Cthulhu Mythos fans, including the cocreators of the Delta Green mythos setting and the cohosts of the H. P. Lovecraft Literary Podcast, relentlessly hurtle readers into the madness and danger. The complete list of authors includes Natania Barron, Steve Dempsey, Dennis Detwiller, Larry DiTillio, Chad Fifer, A. Scott Glancy, Dave Gross, Dan Harms, Rob Heinsoo, Kenneth Hite, Chris Lackey, Robin D. Laws, Nick Mamatas, Ekaterina Sedia, and Kyla Ward.
better that this time I’d gotten beat up and hadn’t hurt anyone. It was alright with me to be left alone. At first I couldn’t talk so well without my teeth. I was worried that it was going to affect my singing. If I lost my voice, who would I be? For a week, I took smaller canoes out by myself, instead of fishing with the other men. Everyone, even Grinner, thought I was upset about Rain. But actually I was upset about what no one else claimed to remember, the taste of the New Yam. When I wasn’t
was textured like a rotten lizard. My head throbbed as my poor brain fought with the cognitive dissonance, but I couldn’t look away. They call it a Hound of Tindalos. I think. The taxonomy is sketchy on these sorts of things, so I’m still really not sure. It was still conscious, but stunned. I knew I wouldn’t have an opportunity like that again, so I bolted out of the front door and towards the fallen police officer. I crouched down to unclip the holster and pull out his pistol. I spun around,
the old stand-by. “Did you know,” Roger began, addressing Chuck and Stan and Lawrence and the two other white guys who were new to Berkeley this semester and whose names he had not yet committed to heart, “that in Hong Kong—” “The Green Hornet is called The Kato Show,” they chorused, even the new guys. Chuck hoisted a shot glass. “Drink once whenever Roger complains about Bruce Lee and the oppression of Asian-Americans on white supremacist television!” And they all drank, even Roger. And they
thoughts. You felt it, but you stopped the thing before it could control you. Maybe this is some way of affecting many people at once.” “The whole city,” Rebecca whispered. She tried not to imagine the effect, but thoughts of plague and Hiroshima roiled in her imagination. Walker dropped to the floor. She did the same before following his gaze to another arena entrance. A pair of hovering mi-go glided down the stairway. From the semi-crustacean limbs of one dangled a coil of cable and a pair
Kovalevsky could tell that there was gypsy blood in Olesya—there was wildness about her, in the way the whites of her eyes flashed in the dusk of his room, the way her pitch-black braid snaked down her back, its tip swinging hypnotic as she walked. It took him a while, however, to recognize that it wasn’t just the wild gypsy fire that smoldered hot and low in her blood, it was something else entirely that made her what she was. It was a cloudy, suffocating kind of day in July, when