Taken down, have some Lovecraft instead
At last far below him he saw faint lines of grey and ominous pinnacles which he
knew must be the fabled Peaks of Throk. Awful and sinister they stand in the
haunted disc of sunless and eternal depths; higher than man may reckon, and
guarding terrible valleys where the Dholes crawl and burrow nastily. But Carter
preferred to look at them than at his captors, which were indeed shocking and
uncouth black things with smooth, oily, whale-like surfaces, unpleasant horns
that curved inward toward each other, bat wings whose beating made no sound,
ugly prehensile paws, and barbed tails that lashed needlessly and disquietingly.
And worst of all, they never spoke or laughed, and never smiled because they had
no faces at all to smile with, but only a suggestive blankness where a face
ought to be. All they ever did was clutch and fly and tickle; that was the way
of night-gaunts
