“The brave Norwegian drove his vessel head on against the pursuing jelly which rose above the unclean froth like the stern of a daemon galleon. The awful squid-head with writhing feelers came nearly up to the bowsprit of the sturdy yacht, but Johansen drove on relentlessly. There was a bursting as of an exploding bladder, a slushy nastiness as of a cloven sunfish, a stench as of a thousand opened graves, and a sound that the chronicler could not put on paper. For an instant the ship was befouled by an acrid and blinding green cloud, and then there was only a venomous seething astern; where — God in heaven!”

— H.P. Lovecraft

the scattered plasticity of that nameless sky-spawn was nebulously recombining in its hateful original form...
Fiction, The Call of Cthulhu (1926)

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H.P. Lovecraft 203

American author 1890–1937

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