Friday, March 2, 2012


"The great hill hung close over the old town,
A precipice against the main street’s end;
Green, tall, and wooded, looking darkly down
Upon the steeple at the highway bend.
Two hundred years the whispers had been heard
About what happened on the man-shunned slope-
Tales of an oddly mangled deer or bird,
Or of lost boys whose kin had ceased to hope.

One day the mail-man found no village there,
Nor were its folk or houses seen again;

People came out from Aylesbury to stare
Yet they all told the mail-man it was plain

That he was mad for saying he had spied

The great hill’s gluttonous eyes, and jaws stretched wide."

H.P. Lovecraft, The Fungi From Yuggoth


  1. Two of my favorite sonnets from "Fungi." You've more than done it justice, too.

  2. From a fan of eminently practical gameblogs I find I can slot this one into my city with just the barest imagination.

    Well played sir.

  3. Gotta love that little stonehenge on its head... adorable! :D