THE STRANGE DARK ONE (NYARLATHOTEP)
"He stood on a slightly raised platform, the shrouded one. Swarthy, slender, sinister, he was robed in scarlet silk. On a table beside him was a device similar to a child's magic lantern. Its diseased illumination cast obscene shapes that moved along the walls."
"Weakly, I raised my agonizing head. He stood before me-grim, austere, merciless. My hungry mouth kissed his chilly feet."
"Boldly, I clung to Nyarlathotep's garment and pulled myself to my feet. Swirling light and blackness played upon his regal visage. Fantastically, he smiled' and as he did so his face slipped, as though he wore some tight-fitting mask that had momentarily lost its hold. He lifted a hand and I saw upon his palm a living symbol. Tilting to it, I licked the pulsing insignia. It was sharp and ripped the tongue that touched it."
W.H. Pugmire, The Hands That Reek and Smoke
From a story provided exclusively for an Illustro Obscurum collaboration