Today we’re looking at “The Curse of Yig,” a collaboration between Lovecraft and Zealia Bishop written in , and first published in the. for the collection of stories and essays by Zealia Bishop Te Curse of Yig ( book) The Curse of Yig Full story online here Author Howard Phillips Lovecraft. The Curse of Yig has ratings and 31 reviews. ᴥ Irena ᴥ said: I don’t have ophidiophobia, but this story might have brought me a bit closer to it. I s.

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I’ve forgotten my password Password. I admit it is foolish, since there are natural explanations for everything I saw and heard, but it masters me none the less. Then, little by little, the suspicion that she was really awake began to dawn on her; and she was convulsed with a mounting blend of panic and grief which made her long to shriek out despite the inhibiting spell which kept her mute.

Ina young academic visits the Guthrie Asylum in Oklahoma to explore the native tribal belief in the snake god, Yig. Was she still sane now? Really gave the vibe of another country, as if written somewhere else; unknown.

There were times, though—at first—when I was able to make a try at it. As the terrain grew flatter, the change from their native mountains depressed them more, perhaps, than they realised; but they found the people at the Indian agencies very affable, curae most of the settled Indians seemed friendly and civil.

She tried to mumble a charm that Walker had taught her, but found she could not utter a single sound.

The autumn was abnormally warm, and except for their primitive cookery the Davises found scant use for the stone fireplace Walker had built with such care. This story has some different elements from Lovecraft’s other stories that makes it stand out: Needless to say, Audrey did not repeat this anecdote to her husband, and she implored the Comptons to beware of starting it on the rounds of the countryside.


Old Wolf dragged himself within the ruddy glow and lapsed into his customary coma. Day and night, week on week, it was always going in exhaustless relays, as persistently as the red dusty winds that carried it.

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Great imagery; it conjured up pretty eerie depictions of what the victims must cursf going through. I read this at a camping trip around a campfire and it scared the crap out of everybody, especially with my friend making an occasional hissing noise and an oh-so brilliant voice for every character.

It seems that Yig, the snake-god of the central plains tribes—presumably the primal source of the more southerly Quetzalcoatl or Kukulcan—was an odd, half-anthropomorphic devil of highly arbitrary and capricious nature. His works were deeply pessimistic and cynical, challenging the values of the Enlightenment, Romanticism and Christianity.

Curse of Yig

Howard Phillips Lovecraft, of Providence, Rhode Island, was an American author of horror, fantasy and science fiction. Morbidly listening, Audrey all at once became curxe of something which she had to verify with every effort of her will before she could believe it; and which, once verified, she did not know whether to welcome or dread.

Anxious to save Walker from a trying shock, Audrey did not hesitate to act, but took the gun firmly by the barrel and brought the butt down again and again upon the writhing objects. It must have cleared after the moon set, yib she saw the square aperture distinctly against the background of stars.

The Curse of Yig – Howard Phillips Lovecraft | Feedbooks

McNeill was a small, clean-shaven man of somewhat advanced years, and I saw at once from his speech and manner that he was a scholar of no mean yog in many branches outside his profession. To save her, he must stop an ancient cult from summoning their god and destroying mankind. Near him lay the ensanguined axe, carelessly discarded. The Haunter Of The Dark.


The Curse of Yig

Although it was nice to have a change of scenery from the typical Lovecraft Country settings. Sign in with Facebook Other Sign in options. Lead Cabin Dancer Derek Meyer Their accents were, truthfully, irritating to read and keep track of, but overall I enjoyed them too. They fastened themselves on me with a horrible persistence, so that I closed the panel gaspingly and left the creature to wriggle about unseen in its matted straw and spectral twilight.

McNeill paused here and removed his glasses, as if a blurring of the objective world might make the reminiscent vision clearer. The loud-ticking clock seemed abnormal in its new loneliness. There she is confronted by a bizarre creature, the sole living survivor of the nightmarish Halloween of To the right of the door was the axe-hacked remnant of what had been a man—clad in a nightshirt, and with the shattered bulk of a lantern clenched in one hand.

They were typical hill-folk, youngish and perhaps a little more ambitious than most, and looked forward to a life of better returns for their hard work than they had had in Arkansas. The framing device of the psychologist telling the story is pure Lovecraft, and only sort of works the level of detail he supposedly inferred from a near-catatonic survivor is Written by Conor Timmis.