"The Lonely Ones" by zachary waite



Summary: Deep Ones need love too! Sometimes they don't find it in either their own world or ours.
Rating: No Rating
Categories: Fiction
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 11/13/08
Updated: 11/13/08


"The Lonely Ones" by zachary waite
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Author's Notes: I've been a fan of HPL for over thirty years, but am new to fan sites etc. This is my first try.

TITLE: "The Lonely"

My name is Amelia Marsh and I reside in Brooklyn New York, in the Coney Island section. I live just off the shore in a rent controlled building. It is very nice.
I am also an almost totally homebound invalid--at least this is how the City and State government social services agencies describe me. I have no family here, and scant acquaintances. I owe this to the horrible malformation--so described by my many doctors, since my birth--of my legs and torso.

I am writing this so that whomever finds it taped to the bulletin board of the building's board members' notice postings, will have pity on me and maybe offer a prayer to Father and Mother.

I came to Coney Island in my 22nd year of life---full of hope for a bright future. I entered City Colllege and got a degree in Library Science. I then got a job at the Branch Library on Coney Island. There I worked happily for 18 years until advancing infirmity and degeneration of my nervous system and legs got too bad and I was retired on a modest pension. At 44, with no marriage prospects, my life took a decided down spiral.

I began to frequent gin mill type dive bars, and to temporarily "hook up with" bar flies and drunkards. The sexual tensions released through this fleeting congress was a nice thing, but none of them ever stayed overnight, and none ever repeated the experience. I guess my legs disgusted them, but the rest of me was pleasent enough?

One wintry day I met Professor Issaac Temple, walking along the splintered boardwalk, while I wheeled myself in my chair. He was charming, erudite, and seemed a felllow New Englander too. Although I was from Innsmouth, and he was from Arkham, we hit it off very well.

After three weeks of daily walks, we took to dinner twice a week, then to quiet nights at my apartment. I knew my pheromones were wqorking overtime--mother had always said our kind have a natural attractant for "Them"--what our folk called non Innsmouthers. He tried several times to make our necking sessons more--trying for caresses agbove and below the waist, but my fear of his being repulsed made me grab away his hands. For, you see, I REALLY Loved him, and hoped eventually he'd find out about me and still Love me enough to marry me and make my purpose complete--give the world one more child of Great Dagon and Mother Hydra.

On the third month anniversary, I rolled to my bedroom, and beckoned him to follow. He came, and I lay on the bed. I lifted my long skirt, and let him see me nude. The shock that briefly flashed across his face hurt, but then he softened. He laid down and performed a wonderous act on me. Afterward, he kissed my sweaty brow, and went into the bathroom. I heard a single gasp, then a thud, and knew in my heart what he had done. I crawled to the door, found it ajar. He had slit his own throat with the scaling knife I use to slough off the dead ones from my legs. I crawled to the phone on the bedstand and called my servant Oshar, whom lived in the custodian's apartment in the cellar. "Another one for the sea to claim" I told my Kanaka Islander.

When you read this, know I never meant to harm anyone--We Children of N'Ha Leh Ei and Great Cthulhu get lonely too!


FINI

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at http://www.templeofdagon.com/viewstory.php?sid=42