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The Shadow Out of Time (Fantasy and Horror Classics): With a Dedication by George Henry Weiss
The Shadow Out of Time (Fantasy and Horror Classics): With a Dedication by George Henry Weiss
The Shadow Out of Time (Fantasy and Horror Classics): With a Dedication by George Henry Weiss
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The Shadow Out of Time (Fantasy and Horror Classics): With a Dedication by George Henry Weiss

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The Great Race of Yith are an extra-terrestrial species who travel through space and time by swapping their bodies with those of distant hosts. Though their motives are mostly academic, they were eventually forced to use their abilities to escape annihilation by swapping bodies with an ancient race that once resided on planet earth, 250 million years ago. When American citizen Nathaniel Wingate Peaslee has his body swapped with an earth-dwelling Yithian from the distant past, his life is changed forever. A fantastic example of classic sci-fi by master of the genre, H. P. Lovecraft. “The Shadow Out of Time” is not to be missed by those who have read and enjoyed other works by Lovecraft. Howard Phillips Lovecraft (1890–1937) was an American writer of supernatural horror fiction. Though his works remained largely unknown and did not furnish him with a decent living, Lovecraft is today considered to be among the most significant writers of supernatural horror fiction of the twentieth century. Other notable works by this author include: “The Call of Cthulhu”, “The Rats in the Walls”, and “The Shadow Over Innsmouth”. Read & Co. is publishing this classic work now as part of our “Fantasy and Horror Classics” imprint in a new edition with a dedication by George Henry Weiss.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 31, 2016
ISBN9781473369207
The Shadow Out of Time (Fantasy and Horror Classics): With a Dedication by George Henry Weiss
Author

H. P. Lovecraft

Renowned as one of the great horror-writers of all time, H.P. Lovecraft was born in 1890 and lived most of his life in Providence, Rhode Island. Among his many classic horror stories, many of which were published in book form only after his death in 1937, are ‘At the Mountains of Madness and Other Novels of Terror’ (1964), ‘Dagon and Other Macabre Tales’ (1965), and ‘The Horror in the Museum and Other Revisions’ (1970).

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    Book preview

    The Shadow Out of Time (Fantasy and Horror Classics) - H. P. Lovecraft

    1.png

    THE

    SHADOW

    OUT OF TIME

    Fantasy & Horror Classics

    By

    H. P. LOVECRAFT

    WITH A

    DEDICATION BY

    GEORGE HENRY WEISS

    First published in 1936

    Copyright © 2020 Fantasy and Horror Classics

    This edition is published by Fantasy and Horror Classics,

    an imprint of Read & Co.

    This book is copyright and may not be reproduced or copied in any

    way without the express permission of the publisher in writing.

    British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

    A catalogue record for this book is available

    from the British Library.

    Read & Co. is part of Read Books Ltd.

    For more information visit

    www.readandcobooks.co.uk

    To

    Howard Phillips Lovecraft

    Essayist, Poet &

    Master-writer of the Weird

    1890-1937

    He lived—and now is dead beyond all knowing

    Of life and death: the vast and formless scheme

    Behind the face of nature ever showing

    Has swallowed up the dreamer and the dream.

    But brief the hour he had upon the stream

    Of timeless time from past to future flowing

    To lift his sail and catch the luminous gleam

    Of stars that marked his coming and his going

    Before he vanished: yet the brilliant wake

    His passing left is vivid on the tide

    And for the countless centuries will abide:

    The genius that no death can ever take

    Crowns him immortal, though a man has died.

    Francis Flagg

    (George Henry Weiss)

    Contents

    H. P. Lovecraft

    I

    II

    III

    IV

    V

    VI

    VII

    VIII

    H. P. Lovecraft

    Howard Phillips Lovecraft was born in 1890 in Rhode Island, USA. Although a sickly boy, Lovecraft began writing at a very young age, quickly developing a deep and abiding interest in science. At just sixteen he was writing a monthly astronomy column for his local newspaper. However, in 1908, Lovecraft suffered a nervous breakdown and failed to get into university, sparking a period of five years in which he all but vanished.

    In 1913, Lovecraft was invited to join the UAPA (United Amateur Press Association)—a development which re-invigorated his writing. In 1917, he began to focus on fiction, producing such well-known early stories as Dagon and A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson. In 1924, Lovecraft married and moved to New York, but he disliked life there intensely, and struggled to find work. A few years later, penniless and now divorced, he returned to Rhode Island. It was here, during the last decade of his life, that Lovecraft produced the vast majority of his best-known fiction, including The Dunwich Horror, The Shadow over Innsmouth, The Thing on the Doorstep and arguably his most famous story, The Call of Cthulhu. Having suffered from cancer of the small intestine for more than a year, Lovecraft died in March of 1937.

    THE SHADOW

    OUT OF TIME

    I

    After twenty-two years of nightmare and terror, saved only by a desperate conviction of the mythical source of certain impressions, I am unwilling to vouch for the truth of that which I think I found in Western Australia on the night of July 17–18, 1935. There is reason to hope that my experience was wholly or partly an hallucination—for which, indeed, abundant causes existed. And yet, its realism was so hideous that I sometimes find hope impossible. If the thing did happen, then man must be prepared to accept notions of the cosmos, and of his own place in the seething vortex of time, whose merest mention is paralysing. He must, too, be placed on guard against a specific lurking peril which, though it will never engulf the whole race, may impose monstrous and unguessable horrors upon certain venturesome members of it. It is for this latter reason that I urge, with all the force of my being, a final abandonment of all attempts at unearthing those fragments of unknown, primordial masonry which my expedition set out to investigate.

    Assuming that I was sane and awake, my experience on that night was such as has befallen no man before. It was, moreover, a frightful confirmation of all I had sought to dismiss as myth and dream. Mercifully there is no proof, for in my fright I lost the awesome object which would—if real and brought out of that noxious abyss—have formed irrefutable evidence. When I came upon the horror I was alone—and I have up to now told no one about it. I could not stop the others from digging in its direction, but chance and the shifting sand have so far saved them from finding it. Now I must formulate some definitive statement—not only for the sake of my own mental balance, but to warn such others as may read it seriously.

    These pages—much in whose earlier parts will be familiar to close readers of the general and scientific press—are written in the cabin of the ship that is bringing me home. I shall give them to my son, Prof. Wingate Peaslee of Miskatonic University—the only member of my family who stuck to me after my queer amnesia of long ago, and the man best informed on the inner facts of my case. Of all living persons, he is least likely to ridicule what I shall tell of that fateful night. I did not enlighten him orally before sailing, because I think he had better have the revelation in written form. Reading and re-reading at leisure will leave with him a more convincing picture than my confused tongue could hope to convey. He can do as he thinks best with this account—shewing it, with suitable comment, to any quarters where it will be likely to accomplish good. It is for the sake of such readers as are unfamiliar with the earlier phases of my case that I am prefacing the revelation itself with a fairly ample summary of its background.

    My name is Nathaniel Wingate Peaslee, and those who recall the newspaper tales of a generation back—or the letters and articles in psychological journals six or seven years ago—will know who and what I am. The press was filled with the details of my strange amnesia in 1908–13, and much was made of the traditions of horror, madness, and witchcraft which lurk behind the ancient Massachusetts town then and now forming my place of residence. Yet I would have it known that there is nothing whatever of the mad or sinister in my heredity and early life. This is a highly important fact in view of the shadow which fell so suddenly upon me from outside sources. It may be that centuries of dark brooding had given to crumbling, whisper-haunted Arkham a peculiar vulnerability as regards such shadows—though even this seems doubtful in the light of those other cases which I later came to study. But the chief point is that my own ancestry and background are altogether normal. What came, came from somewhere else—where, I even now hesitate to assert in plain words.

    I am the son of Jonathan and Hannah (Wingate) Peaslee, both of wholesome old Haverhill stock. I was born and reared in Haverhill—at the old homestead in Boardman Street near Golden Hill—and did not go to Arkham till I entered Miskatonic University at the age of eighteen. That was in 1889. After my graduation I studied economics at Harvard, and came back to Miskatonic as Instructor of Political Economy in 1895. For thirteen years more my life ran smoothly and happily. I married Alice Keezar of Haverhill in 1896, and my three children, Robert K., Wingate, and Hannah, were born in 1898, 1900, and 1903, respectively. In 1898 I became

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