INTRODUCTION To the Excerpt.
While I compose the post on the Lucifer Problem, here’s how Cthulhu manifests in the universe just next door. The universe of GREEN MAJIK.
It was probably the first time a light had been struck inside here. Ever.
The blackness in front of and above her moved.
The smooth volcanic stone under her imaginary feet jumped. The calm water surface telegraphed the seismic wave of the shock.
An impact tremor.
The moving darkness became a huge looming shape perched atop a stone cliff thirty feet high. She found that she was standing in the tidal pool about thirty feet from the perch. Her head was craned all the way back into pinching shoulder blades. Looking up. Looking into a sight that could cause instant madness.
The monster was probably two-hundred-feet tall, squatting on bulbous and lewdly spread rooster legs with dinosaur feet. The crotch was sexless but rippling and being finger poked out from within at multiple points.
From there up, a vast hollow for an abdomen, “skin” stretched like an Ethiopian’s across a rack of ribs that described two breastbones. The neck was like a fat wheel of cheese made out of foul green Jell-O that could elongate impossibly and retract. The shoulders were bony and peaked into horns. Huge, enormous bat-like wings folded out from behind it and were wider by twice than the thing was tall.
Its arms were all skin, stretched across gaunt bone and terminated in four finger knives with an opposable claw.
Its head was Dali’s idea of a monster squid pasted atop an anthropomorphic carriage. Blunt and torpedo-shaped, sloping back over its shoulders and between its wings like the head of Giger’s alien. It had two independently moving fins at the tip, like a terrestrial squid. The beak end was ringed with arms, hundreds of the appendages that were attached in concentric rings all the way to the beak at the center. There were two great whip tentacles attached on the left and right sides of the head-body alongside the outermost ring of arms. The two tentacles were twice as long as any of the longest arms.
Hammond was well within striking range of those two whips. She could be scooped up at will and tossed up and into the middle of all that, immediately enveloped and enfolded and ground into gruel to be funneled into the snapping beak like buckets of pig slop.
The beak was jagged and serrated, like the monster had tried to file triangular shark teeth out of the bite line and didn’t quite succeed.
Her physical body was being held hostage by the claw of this thing’s avatar back in Louisiana. Her light body was frozen and pinned in place by the burning psychic hate that beamed from its gaze, more like two bloody egg yolks than eyes, like a directional force field.
Its voice was in her mind, too big, loud, and inescapable to endure.
I AM UNBORN. I AM UNDYING. I AM FOR I AM. YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME, PUNY ANT. FOR I AM GOD IN YOUR WORLD. AS I WAS BEFORE I WILL BE AGAIN.
I WILL CLEANSE THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE OF THE HUMAN INFESTATION.
I HATE YOU, THE WOMAN, MOST OF ALL.
ONLY YOU WOMAN CAN CREATE MORE OF THE INFESTATION.
YOUR INTERFERENCE IN MY WORK HAS WON YOU MY NOTICE AND MY FAVOR.
I WILL KEEP YOU ALIVE WHILE I ERADICATE ALL THE REST OF YOUR WOMAN RACE.
AND THEN I WILL KEEP YOU AS MY PET BITCH FOR THE REST OF ETERNITY.
LOCKED UP IN THIS TOMB MEANT TO HOLD ME.
UNTIL I NEED YOU FOR A TRIVIAL DIVERSION FROM THE BORDOM OF IMMORTALITY.
Its laugh was the butcher of hope.
Its idea of a trivial diversion was probably the worst fate that could conceivably befall a woman, or a man for that matter.
The tentacles that attacked fired out of its squatting crotch, like coils of burger meat that were fat with circumference and girth, with blunt rounded tips like the ends of a deli salami. Several hundred of these writhing, urgent appendages corkscrewing out at her. She was hoisted out of the lagoon and into the column of hissing, spitting, stretching phalli. Her arms were wrapped and spread wide as were her legs and then she was constricted around the waist, thighs, throat, and entered three ways by one then two then three…
At that point, she felt and heard her flesh tearing and her mind screamed as…
…a blackness of nothing and nowhere but tumbling…
…BOOOOOM! BOOM! BOOOM!…
The cacophony of war. The claw in the top of her head was yanked out and she was lifted to the tips of her toes before disconnecting from the avatar and collapsing in a folded limp pile over her knees.
The stomp of boots on stout decking. The controlled rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat of a half-dozen sub guns coming from behind her in an advancing line. Punctuated by the savage muzzle blast of a combat shotgun and flashbangs as the shooters peppered the monster squid with boom and bang.
She heaved herself to her hands and knees and was looking through her legs behind her. She saw HRT agents from the shins down. She saw that she was naked and couldn’t remember what happened to her clothes. She saw her torso and tummy and legs were sticky wet and dripping with blood. She was wallowing in an ocean of gore that was all around her.
She saw a chunk of skull and hair that triggered some recognition.
“Fender?” she gasped.
And she remembered what it did to Fender and that she was wearing the Fender cocktail it vomited all over her. She reared up and screamed her soul into the abyss.
It was more trauma than she could psychically endure. Mallory Hammond went completely insane.
End of Excerpt—DT
So, there you have Cthulhu’s Will To Be Done according to the Black Gospels of GREEN MAJIK. Find out Mallory’s real fate in Special Task Force: GREEN MAJIK #1 “Pretty Hate Machine.” Available now exclusively on Kindle. Paperback powered by Lulu coming soon.