would give much for a glimpse into that?”
“That,” I smiled, “is even beyond my fondest hope!”
“And if I were to tell you that I have here in this very shop the original Necronomicon?”
I did not bat an eyelash. “You haven’t,” I stated positively.
He looked not at me, but beyond me.
“True, I have not,” he said at last. “I thought you would consider that statement an absurdity.”
He sighed, then went on a bit hurriedly: “And yet I wonder if you can imagine an even greater absurdity — a book even more terrible than the dreaded Necronomicon, a book so ominous in its scope as to make the Necronomicon seem as tame as — as — ”
“As a cook-book,” I supplied jocularly, for the tiny man had become almost amusingly solemn and serious now.
“Yes. A book that tells of things the mad Arab never dreamed of in his wildest nightmares; indeed, a book not even of this Earth; a book that goes back to the very beginning and beyond the beginning; that comes from the very minds of the things that caused all things!
I looked at him with a sudden suspicion, then smiled cynically.
“Are you trying to tell me that you do not have the Necronomicon but you do have such a book as you describe?”
His eyes held mine for a moment, and just for that moment there was a gleam in them.
Said he: “Do you dare to let me show you?”
Said I: “Yes, do show me, by all means!”
“Very well. Please wait here a moment.”
I waited, doubtfully enough, and for the first time mused upon the really extraordinary aspect of the thing. I suddenly remembered a story I had read a while back, something about a man who had entered an old bookshop and was plunged into an orbit of strange adventures — something to do with vampires- I was disturbed that this story should leap to my mind at this particular time, but I smiled at the thought of anything untoward happening to me; this little slate-colored man was a quite peculiar person indeed, but he did not conform to my conception of a vampire.
He returned just then, bearing an immense book nearly half as big as he was.
“You must understand,” he said, “that what I am going to tell you should not be taken with skepticism. It is important that you should know certain things about this book” — he hugged it tightly to him — “that will seem to you incredible. First, you should be informed that it does not belong to me, nor to anyone on this Earth either: that is the first incredible thing you must believe. If I were to tell you truly to whom it belongs, I would have to say — to the cosmos, and to all ages that were, and are, and will yet be. It is the most damnable book in the universe, and but for it, I — but no, I will not tell you that now. I will only say now that I am the guardian of it, the present guardian, and you could never imagine what terrible transits of time and space I have made.”
Can you blame me for edging toward the door? Can you blame me for wanting to get away from there? There had been a growing suspicion in my mind that this man was mad, and now I knew it. But I said, precisely because I didn’t know what else to say:
“And you want to sell me this book?”
He peered at me more intently. “It could not be bought for all the wealth of this or any other planet. No, I merely want you to read it. I am most anxious that you read it. You may take it home with you if you wish. You see, I am aware that in spite of your skepticism you are consumed with curiosity.”
He was right. And yet why did I hesitate? There was something very queer about all this, something that did not appear on the surface, something subtle and almost frightening. So far he had hinted at much, but had told me exactly nothing. He was far too ready to let me take this book away with me, and something told me that if he were so anxious to have me read it I would do best by not doing so.
“No, thanks,” I muttered, and didn’t try to conceal a shiver as I turned away.
I had had enough. His eyes were too black. But he had seemed to anticipate my refusal, and at the door he again gripped my arm.
“You may as well know,” he said, “that if you had not come here I would sooner or later have brought the book to you. Knowing what I do know of you and your occult studies, it follows that you are the logical one to be entrusted with this volume. I realize that I have only hinted at things and have told you nothing, but I cannot do more than that now. You must read the book; then you will understand.”
My hand on the door, I hesitated one fateful moment. In that moment the book came from under his arm and he pressed it upon me most eagerly, half shoving me out the door into the dusk of the approaching night; and there I stood with that ponderous volume in my hands, mystified, half angry, yet daring to hope that at last I was in possession of something momentous. With a half-laugh and a shrug, I turned homeward.
My hopes were more than confirmed, as I soon ascertained in the privacy of my rooms. The book was huge — the size of a large ledger, and very thick, the covers edged all around with metal. The binding was of a black faded fabric unfamiliar to me, and the yellowed pages proved also to be of some strange, resilient texture. The pages were covered with strange, angular symbols, long and narrow and strictly perpendicular. I looked for a keyword, or key-symbol, but there was none; so I stared at the pages, wondering how I was to decipher them.
And then a strange thing happened, which was to be only the first of many strange events that evening. As I stared and continued to stare at those bewildering pages I thought I saw one of the symbols move, ever so slightly; and as I peered intently at the page it became apparent that the symbols did indeed move as my eyes ran across the lines — rearranging themselves ever so minutely, writhing and twisting like so many tiny snakes. And with this queer writhing movement I no longer wondered at the meaning of those symbols, for they became suddenly clear and vivid and meaningful, impressing themselves upon my consciousness as so many words and sentences. I knew that I had indeed stumbled upon something very great.
The book seemed to exude an invisible aura of evil which at first unnerved me and then pleased me, and I determined to lose no time in plunging into my task.
Seated at one end of a library table, I spread the book before me and pulled a lamp nearer. So comforted by a blazing log fire at my right, I turned to the very first page and began the most fantastic, I might almost say insane, document I have ever read; yet in consequence of what happened, I can never be sure whether it was the document or I who was insane.
But here it is, almost word for word as I so clearly remember it:
PREFACE
to the most Damnable Book
ever loosed
upon an unsuspecting Cosmos
Whoso comes in possession of this book should be warned, and this Preface is to serve that purpose. The possessor of this book should be wise to flee from it — but will not. His curiosity is already aroused, and reading even these few words of warning, he will not be deterred from reading on; and reading on, he will be enmeshed, become a part of the Plot, and will learn too late that there is left but a single sorrowful alternative of escape.
Such is the awful damnability of it. But how They must chuckle with glee!
Know, then, whoso should read this, that I, Tlaviir of Vhoorl, do hereby subscribe the history and origin of the Book, so that all manner of men in all time to come may consider carefully before succumbing to the curiosity that is inherent in all men throughout the universe. I had no such warning; and by reason of my folly am fated to be the first guardian. I myself know not — yet — what that may portend; for, try as I might, I cannot forget my friend, Kathulhn, who all unknowingly launched this horrible jest of the gods, and the fate that was his.
Kathulhn had always been something of a puzzle to all who knew him, except, perhaps, to me. Even as a boy he had professed an insatiable wonderment of those profound mysteries of time and space which the Wise Men of Vhoorl said were not for mere man to know or to seek out.
Kathulhn could not understand why this should be.
We grew up together and entered the university together, and there Kathulhn became such an avid student of the sciences, particularly of complex mathematics, that he was a perpetual astonishment to the professors.
We left the university together, I to enter into my father’s business, and Kathulhn, having been awarded an
