Rapture of Cthulhu

The short story "Call of Cthulhu," by H.P. Lovecraft has compelled me enough to write at least one flash fiction and am very much interested in the flash fiction way.

As the story goes, he lived in R'lyeh, the city of the damned in which he ruled. The whispers of his call rung through to the cult. The cult heard his cries and they called upon him to rise once more. His rise to the surface stealing many a men to be of his crew not so laborious as his everlasting damnation below.

In R'lyeh he waited for the call, the cult so willingly granted. He knew his time was near and spared none gathering necessities. Gathering all the crew he had stolen before, men whose names have been long forgotten, shaped by the under water damnation of R'lyeh. The one and only land of the damned.

Swallowing ships whole, from men whose happiness on open seas were but a curtain of despair waiting to be lifted. He is called every time he is seen "Cthulhu!" And it's known to all ships. Every man, and his vessel are equals in the grand scheme of their impending meeting with him. It was only a matter of time. This was no seamans pleasure.

My first run in with the flying squid man ended in the loss of many good men. The door that attempted to gulp my ship below is a stain on my memory everlasting. I watched the gates swing open with a creek, and watch as they tumble below.

Somehow I escaped. Only to tell this tale, knowing full well where my fate lies.

He calls to me still. He whispers in my ear with a somber caress. Sounds of his voice are that of bubbles, that of a drowning man. Sorrowful and dull, as well as unclear and gargled.  The voice of the damned cry in anguish but have no choice. As though they know their request for true deaths sweet embrace will never grace them with her presence. For my fate, is of theirs. If I go on, I too, will be damned to R'lyeh, serving under he who controls me. Forever, and more.

It is this that I have resolved to initiate my impending death. Hearing his call from the depths below. His crying crew in R'lyeh everlasting. There is no hope, nor escape from his clutch. Cthulhu, lives again. I only have left to accept the fate that is, R'lyeh.

Author's Note

this was my first flash fiction. Take that into account. nothing further.

Reviews

[Charlie B]

As a flash fiction it is very well written. The description of Cuthulu and that of the city, R'lyeh, actually allowed me to paint a mental picture, and really only authors like Lisa Jackson or Stephen King have been able to do that for me. Well written, vivid detail, only thing I could work on is how he actually escaped. It's creative to leave it open like that, and allowing the readers to use their imagination to create their own scenario is a good practice, but to me there should be do me backbone. Nevertheless, good job!

[Charlie B]

Some backbone*