#Abdul Alhazred

[abyssalaquarist00]

this isnt getting finished probably

[corvusium]

The Necronomicon, who in my oc world, shares a body with the late Abdul Alhazred... he is an inmortal and (unwilling) companion of Yog-Sothoth.

Abdul Alhazred isn't his real name-- he has close to zero recollection of his actual past life...He only adopted this name because it is so commonly associated with the writer of the Necronomicon...which IS him...

He was unaware that he was gonna serve Yog-Sothoth forever...Guess someone didn't read the contract...!

[bringherhome7]

How can Abdul recognise his wife among them?.

[invisible-woe]

he was trying to be racist but he accidentally made the Mad Arab Abdul Alhazred sound way too cool

[ghostsandgod]

💫 I refuse to stop 💫

[variouspolltournaments]

Anti-Propaganda is not allowed. Please only give reasons to vote for something and not give reasons to vote against something.

[cthulhumystery]

WE HAVE SUCH SIGHTS TO SHOW YOU!

New in The Call of Cthulhu Mystery Program feed: @catblackard shares @mothershewrote - the latest paranormal adventure from our creative team, what she's been working on for the next season of Mystery Program, and an ANNOUNCEMENT of an upcoming Arcane Advent:

LISTEN HERE

Illustration of the "Mad Arab" Abdul Alhazred by @guytoonist.

[tfarcevolph]

Abdul Alhazred, Necronomicon #midjourney #terror #lovecraft #necronomicon #cthulhu

[hplovecraftmuseum]

Was Lovecraft's fictional character, Abdul Alhazred, meant by HPL to be an evil or malignant indidual or was he a prophet of the horrible future humankind is destined to face? The brief quotes that Lovecraft includes in his tales that he attributed to Alhazred and the bits of information he gives us about the "Mad Arab" himself would suggest that he is not himself 'evil', but only the messenger of a very disquieting reality - that being that the cosmos is not ruled by benevolent forces, that humanity has no glorious future, and the world is a swirling, mindless, and ultimately irrelevant incident in cosmic infinity itself without plan or meaning. Is Abdul Alhazred mocking us, warning us, or both? (Exhibit 476)

[gameboymania]

[orpheusterminals]

[abyssalaquarist00]

(theres no god but God, and he's not the one answering your prayers)

hes carrying muslim eldritch horror fans on his back

[fortunaestalta]

[andreabonazzi]

In search of Alhazred.

Digital montage and frame-by-frame animation, featuring one of my Lovecraftian bas-relieves. And, no… We didn't find Abdul Alhazred.

[mastomysowner]

Japanese and Italians think alike

I recently finished reading the surreal mystery/horror manga Soil by Atsushi Kaneko, and I must say that I'm fascinated by the concept of foreign bodies. A few quotes from Some Explanations on Soil, written by the translator:

In other words, when people do disgusting, abnormal things, it creates rifts through which SHIT enters our world.

Italian horror writer Luigi Musolino's collection of short stories, Un buio diverso (A Different Darkness), deals with the same theme. It's framed with excerpts from the grimoire of worker-writer Enrico Bedolis (local Abdul Alhazred) The Science of Dead Environments.

To quote the intro: "Certain areas on Earth, due to their location and geometry, are affected by dark forces that bring energies of other dimensions into our world. Because the line between Here and There is very thin and is becoming thinner and thinner due to the unworthy behavior of the human race."

It was mentioned somewhere that Bedolis also wrote about the struggle between light and dark energies, but this is a horror book, so it's about SHIT. Does it get existential? Yeah. I liked the story Where the Lighters Go the most, so here's my translation:

One completely ordinary night, suffering from insomnia and feeling how strongly it was blowing from the old windows, Edo Taverna found out where the lighters go.

At two o'clock he got out of bed to smoke a cigarette - maybe it would help drive away the thoughts about work that were keeping him awake? And for ten minutes he wandered around the rooms looking for a lighter.

It disappeared somewhere. Lighters kept disappearing somewhere.

Edo had no doubt that he had placed the lighter with the stylized skull next to the TV. But it wasn't there.

Maybe in jeans? Not there either.

On the nightstand too...

Standing in the semi-darkness, Edo replayed the past day in his head. Well, of course, Gigi probably stole the lighter from him when, after work in the office, they stopped at the bar to drink a Spritz. Gigi had such a bad habit. But damn, to steal a lighter?..

“It’s not like I did it on purpose, I have something like kleptomania,” he even made excuses, this idiot. Edo mentally told him to piss off and promised that he would personally beat him to a pulp, and then continued the search. There should be more lighters in the apartment - the question is where, of course.

The house hides, but does not steal, his mother liked to repeat, and she knew what she was saying.

Edo rummaged in the corners of the sofa, in the drawers of the desk, even went through a stack of magazines lying on the toilet tank.

Nothing.

You can light a cigarette from the stove in the kitchen, but now this is a matter of principle.

Edo remembered that he had a blue lighter with white patterns - seems like he dropped it over the headboard a month ago, when, after sex with an overweight goth chick he met on Badoo, they shared a cigarette; the girl called herself an expert on Wicca, and spent most of the evening chatting about a strange book written by some Piedmontese worker. Listening to her talk made Edo sad, and he decided to return to the good old masturbation to Pornhub videos.

Deciding to move the heavy sofa away from the wall, Edo, with an unlit cigarette in his teeth, pulled the net on which the mattress lay with all his might. He thought that now he would see rags of dust, dirty napkins, boogers and porn magazines from the nineties.

Overall, he expected to find anything, but not what he found.

His head began spinning, the cigarette slipped out of his mouth and fell onto his leg.

“Oh my God. This is crazy,” he was amazed and squatted down, not knowing whether to laugh at his discovery or pinch his scrotum to wake up faster.

Behind the headboard, in the wall, there was a meter by meter opening. A square of darkness. Trying to find a reasonable explanation, Edo Taverna decided that, most likely, the bricks had simply collapsed - maybe water had accumulated in them, or maybe it was a defect in the building's structure.

Then he saw narrow, shabby steps going steeply down, and all his logical arguments went to waste. Edo hovered at the doorway for about two minutes, thinking about secret passages and medieval castles, and then took out his cell phone and turned on the flashlight. Carefully, from afar, he began to probe the hole with a ray of light, slowly approaching it, as if the opening could close at any second, and the plaster and cement could grasp his hand in a death grip.

Only the steps were visible, nothing more. It looked like they were made of stone, and the surface was covered with some kind of greenish web - either mold or rot. The passage seemed narrow, but there was enough space for one person.

– Hey! – Edo shouted into the darkness, but absolute, frightening silence swallowed his voice, not even returning an echo.

Swallowing sour saliva, Edo sighed, bent his knees and stepped over the threshold. Then he began to descend, bending down and feeling how low the ceiling arches were hanging.

Slowly, carefully, he descended lower and lower, holding his cell phone in front of him. The staircase was completely straight, without turns or landings.

Edo had been walking the steps for what must have been an hour, pausing every now and then to catch his breath and wipe the sweat that had dripped down his eyes.

This is impossible. Impossible because he lives on the fourth floor of a house in Rosella, a residential area of ​​Turin. Edo again tried to find an explanation for what was happening, but, realizing that it was useless, he decided to rely on fate, never ceasing to be amazed at its surprises. Curiosity and the feeling that something important was waiting for him there, at the foot of the stairs, turned out to be stronger than fear and the voice that whispered to Edo: “Go back, where are you going?”

After a couple of hours of descent, the lifeless light of the flashlight encountered a dim yellow glow coming from below. Edo turned off his cell phone.

Gradually the steps became gentler, and when they ended, Edo found himself in a short corridor that led to a huge hall.

The phone dropped out of his hands.

No, the hall was not just huge.

Never in his miserable life had Edo seen such a gigantic room as this butane-scented underground cathedral. The walls and ceiling were lost from sight. And on the shiny floor, as if made of obsidian, which instilled horror in Edo with its blackness, stood in a chain all the lighters that he had lost during twenty-five years of smoking.

Lighters that fell between the seats of the car, stolen from him on crazy teenage drinking sessions, forgotten in clothes taken to the trash heap, bought from a Moroccan in Liguria, the ones he used to open beer, light fires on the beach, from which he lit joints, heated hashish, multi-colored limited edition lighters, and finally those given away and lost - they were countless, especially lost ones.

They were all burning; the flames ran in coils to the center of the hall, merging into one huge, dazzling, yellow-blue fire.

Opening his mouth, Edo walked along the chain, recognizing each lighter, and felt that his eyes were blurring with tears. Each was associated with a certain moment in his life, and these memories floated before his eyes one after another.

Just like before death. Exactly as before death.

Edo walked for a long time until he finally reached the place where the chain originated. He saw a lighter with a stylized skull and extended a trembling hand to take it. But the metal slipped from his sweaty fingers, and the lighter fell right onto another, small one, which - exactly! - was taken from him at Milan airport in two thousand and two.

Domino effect.

Destroying the order, the lighters began to fall one after another and go out.

As if spellbound, Edo watched the play of light and shadow created by the running flames. Finally, the last lighter fell, and darkness reigned.

And at that moment, Edo Taverna suddenly saw that, in addition to lighters, the ghosts of all the losses of his life had gathered here in the dungeon, and he had lost a lot: self-esteem, the only woman he loved, youthful dreams of becoming a football star, buying a house, having children; he was overcome by remorse for lying, for saying too few words of support to his father while he was alive, for forgetting how to enjoy small joys, and for much, much, much more.

Very, very many losses, and all this awaited him here, in the dungeon, and all this had teeth, claws, tongues and eyes - bottomless, black, terrible, bloodshot, you can go crazy looking at them.

They were getting closer.

[horror-b-movie-punk]

"The Death of Abdul Alhazred"

Art by Raulo Caceres