Cthulhu Mythos Novels Novels & Stories

The smoke disappeared into the air. The candles and incenses were lit on the table to create a flicker in the breeze blowing through the kitchen. She placed the crystals in the oven. Red for blood, fire, violence, health and danger. Orange for change and yellow for mourning. Black for evil and dark. She began stirring the crystals in the oven with a wooden spoon as she chanted a spell. The oven became so hot the spoon began to catch fire. She reached over to the sink and filled a glass with water. She propelled the glass of water onto the fire. The steam spelled out Slaughter Hill. The spell was completed.

Rosenthal to me? Right then, the door behind me squeaked open, causing my heart to skip a beat. My arms shot up, pointing the gun in the direction of the door. I peered in to find the bedroom empty. Bracing myself, I entered slowly with dread pumping through my veins. Her bedroom was home to an endless collection of books, and a double-wide bookcase, covering the majority of the wall, held an extensive variety of the occult genre. Interesting... Mrs. Una Rosenthal was a woman with secrets. Dark ones.

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she sprinted through the streets, not caring if she bumped into people along the way. She did not look up, afraid to see that they would all have the same blank slate. The girl entered an alley and expected she would not be spotted, but alas, ever since she opened that book, things never went her way. She reached a dead end and was to swivel and make a reverse turn, but the guys blocked her path. “Nowhere to run, little miss.” One of them smirked and edged closer with each step she took backwards. “We’re going to have some ‘fun’, right here and now.” April G’s heart hammered against her chest and her back hit the dead end. She closed her lids, ready to accept her fate as they loomed closer.

Make all thresholds one threshold. Open it. Let everything trapped move. Let everything outside enter. No more lost dead. The next trouble arrived with dirt under its nails. In the false shrines, symbols had weight. It stained sleeves, cracked floors, moved through crowds, and made ordinary people choose sides before they understood the question. The cold incense smoke pressed against every window while wet footsteps marked the next turn of the case. Nothing about the Shrine War felt clean. It felt like another emergency arriving before the last one had been wiped off the stones.

It covered more than anything else I had been given so far. I look away from the outside and to the book I had been given. The Water Species I furrow my brow. The water species, huh? I wonder if this had anything to do with Bacudal telling me I needed a river nymph to uncloak myself. I flip open the first page, to what looks like a table of contents. Selkies....2-4 Cthulhu...4-8 Kraken...8-12 Leviathan....12-13 Dog Fish...13-15

Daniel carefully picked up the necklace and examined it. "What just happened?" He voiced out his thoughts before inadvertently pressing the W symbol on the ball of the necklace. A rattling sound was heard within the ball and it split into two,revealing a small piece of folded paper within. "Wow." Annabelle's eyes was wide at this point. "This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder." Daniel muttered and unfolded the piece of paper. It was quite old and contained words written with skyblue-colored ink. The words were thus: 'Luke the immortal.But not the invincible. Above all but vulnerable to one. One poison deadlier than the other. Werewolf venom triumphs over vampire virus.The might of

It was then that she spotted the ancient spell book her grandmother gifted her on her fifteenth birthday and hope sprung forth. “I can think of only one thing to do to keep ye from his grasp and, possibly, reverse -or at least lessen- the bloodlust ye have,” Agatha said with an anxious tone. “I recall seeing something in this book my grandmother gifted to me. She was a powerful witch.” “Please hurry,” Kira struggled to say in a voice that echoed with a male tone. Agatha grabbed the spell book and quickly flipped through the pages while she warily moved away from her friend whose emerald green eyes were displaying flecks of dancing red light.

“I know it sounds batshit insane. Like the caller’s hallucinating or screwing with me. But he knew things—details no one should. And if there’s even a chance…” Lysander held up a hand, stopping me. “It doesn’t sound insane. Not entirely.” I blinked, caught off guard. “What?” He pushed off the table, walking to a bookshelf in the corner crammed with art books, sketchpads, and a few dusty tomes that looked older than the school. He pulled one out—a thick, leather-bound volume with faded gold lettering: “Mythos and Metaphor: Ancient Lore in Modern Art.” He flipped through it, landing on a page with illustrations of snarling wolves under full moons, runes etched around the borders.

As I spin I stifle a scream. Making its way through the trees is something truly out of a myth. From top to bottom it is a mish-mash of creatures. Its twin heads are that of both a goat and a lion. The heads join at the shoulders to the body of a lion, all ending in a tail with a serpent's head. Growing up I was always interested in mythology. The name of the creature easily came to mind; Chimera. I try to back away slowly, hoping it hasn’t yet noticed me.But as per my usual clumsy self, I end up tripping over my own feet.