LoBo's profile

As I was lead along the lightless outskirts of the indomitable fortress that presided over the landscape and my thoughts, my guide – his eyes: shining globes in the black – directed his and myself down an incline that grew gradually but increasingly steep for some time. For, he explained, the grim and wailing stone from which the Witch’s Ziggurat was wrought – that unearthly element on which no man may look and still know himself separate from the world or eternity separate from himself and s...

“Standing in the gray sands, just on the cusp of a crater, I took my breath in the light of my first Mercurian sunrise.” -- so begins my journal of the impossible. Now that everything is said and done and I have had my chance to breathe, it is obvious to me that I must chronicle all that has happened so that others may know. Every detail that I can recall or every sight that I saw or touch that I felt, recorded so that maybe someone else can theorize, ponder, and understand what we have forg...

"The city of Arkham has a strange darkness about it; in the air, in the people, in the events that transpire. Everything always seems cast in twilight in this city, and the strange runs rampant in the streets. It could be for any reason, considering the cities past, but that is not what these stories are about...These stories are about those who have been touched by the weird. Those who have bumped back against the things in the night. Men and women who have walked away from the supernatural ...

If my feelings have offended, my entreaties have been resented, tell me, plain, and I'll be contented that I felt love, my heart be mended But if you feel what I have felt, tell me, plain, my chest be swell'd with pride and heart and amors held of how our lives may be meld Into one rich gold tapestry of sunsets, sunrises, shared while we hold tightly together, symmetry. just tell me, plain, that you love me

"Writers are the most heartless breed on Earth. Every wording to make someone sob, every phrasing to make someone laugh is facticious, contrived for that very purpose. Emotions and thoughts are playthings to everyone with a pencil in their hand, but it is writers who spend their entire lives honing their abilities of manipulation. Fiction or fact, prose or otherwise, the Writer is the Con Man of choice."