I’ve only read a few HP Lovecraftian stories, and The Lurker at the Threshold is not one of them. If you’re interested, the only one I really remember was The Colour Out of Space, which I’m not even sure if I got the title right, though that creepy indescribable pulsating colo[u]r scared the beejeesus out of me while I was waiting for the bus. Generally when I see the initials HP, I think Harry Potter, and oh gosh the new Harry Potter’s coming out in nine days, and oh golly Tea and I are seeing the movie on Saturday morning, and blahblahJKRowlingmakingmoremoneyasItypeblah. This is, of course, a sane reaction.
But back to…the Lurker. Or the Haunter. Whichever.
I’ve never read the story. Wikipedia probably has a fabulous synopsis (hey, it was written by August Derleth! Learning! Always learning!). But the best retelling came from my friend Mary over margaritas.
“There’s this thing, see, this evil lurking thing from another dimension that is waiting, just on the threshold and enter our universe. Ooooh, it was just so creeeeeepy.”
I don’t know if that’s accurate or not. But I think I’ve found the next place the thing will enter, and it’s not through my large intestine. No, it’s through the juncture of my upper back and neck. The aching, the burning, the tense muscles – it’s very clear. From there the Lurker will surface, rend and tear my flesh (though I think he’s doing a dandy job from the other dimension) and demand horrible sacrifices. A. massaged it last night while we watched some Seinfeld, and twice I caught him muttering under his breath, strange, primitive-sounding words…
So. I leave it to the capable hands of the Internets, my last defense against the rise of the Great Old Ones, the Haunter, the Lurker, and August Derleth’s violated corpse: is meningitis something we IBDers need to look out for? Or am I being paranoid about the end of times, as bloody entrails will certainly be more enticing than healthy ones?
Sorry so long between postings, library science has taken a drastic turn for the worse. Apparently, the coming of the Old Ones is not enough to merit a reduction in assigned pages.