The Children of Cthulhu
Chilling New Tales Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft
Chapter One
When the boy upstairs got hold of a pellet gun and fired snips of
potato at passing cars, I took a turn. I was part of everything. I
wasn't an outsider. But I wouldn't join in when my friends went to
the yellow house to scribble on the bricks and listen at the
windows.
One girl teased me about it, but everyone else told her to shut up.
They defended me, even though they didn't understand why I wouldn't
come.
I don't remember a time before I visited the yellow house for my
mother.
On Wednesday mornings at about nine o'clock I would open the front
door of the decrepit building with a key from the bunch my mother
had given me. Inside was a hall and two doors, one broken and
leading to the splintering stairs. I would unlock the other and
enter the dark flat. The corridor was unlit and smelt of old wet
air. I never walked even two steps down that hallway. Rot and
shadows merged, and it looked as if the passage disappeared a few
yards from me. The door to Mrs. Miller's room was right in front of
me. I would lean ... read full excerpt from: The Children of Cthulhu: Chilling New Tales Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft ebook
