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A Prayer to the Priest of Dreams

Art by Bernie Gonzalez

My son, there are three things you must know when you go skinny dipping in the ocean after midnight. First and foremost, you must be naked. Stop snickering. It’s obvious but true. You must be naked; otherwise you’re just swimming. Present yourself to Mother Pacific as a corpse on a slab being prepared for the final rite, and she will welcome you.

Fog rolls in along the coast thick and creepy, John Carpenter style. Taka’s beside me in his wetsuit, anxiously rocking on the balls of his feet. I promised him big game tonight.

“How will they know we’re here?” he asks.

“I left a note.” And by that I mean I left a bloody conch shell on Uncle Ingram’s pillow.

Taka rubs his arms and watches his breath puff in the cold night air. “Do you love me, Thoth?” He asks out of nowhere.

“Hey with the who now?”

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Lovecraft had a fear of knowledge, but how does that translate into the Age of Information? Thoth and his mother have been on the run from Thoth’s father and his family for the past year, ever since the divorce papers were finalized. They travel from town to town, relocating at a moments notice, dragging a wicked old steamer trunk full of secrets. Every man in Thoth’s family has attempted to open that trunk. Every man has failed. But Thoth knows something the rest of his line did not, and the family is coming to rip that secret from his head. One way or another.
“A Prayer to the Priest of Dreams” is published in Innsmouth Magazine No. 11.

Take a look at some of the images that inspired the story.

Listen to the soundtrack: