The Statement of Randolph Carter

It was in a deep, damp hollow, overgrown with rank grass, moss, and curious creeping weeds, and filled with a vague stench which my idle fancy associated absurdly with rotting stone. On every hand were the signs of neglect and decrepitude, and I seemed haunted by the notion that Warren and I were the first living creatures to invade a lethal silence of centuries. My first vivid impression of my own presence in this terrible necropolis concerns the act of pausing with Warren before a certain half-obliterated sepulchre, and of throwing down some burdens which we seemed to have been carrying.

I now observed that I had with me an electric lantern and two spades, whilst my companion was supplied with a similar lantern and a portable telephone outfit. No word was uttered, for the spot and the task seemed known to us; and without delay we seized our spades and commenced to clear away the grass, weeds, and drifted earth from the flat, archaic mortuary.

After uncovering the entire surface, which consisted of three immense granite slabs, we stepped back some distance to survey the charnel scene; and Warren appeared to make some mental calculations. Then he returned to the sepulchre, and using his spade as a lever, sought to pry up the slab lying nearest to a stony ruin which may have been a monument in its day.

He did not succeed, and motioned to me to come to his assistance. Finally our combined strength loosened the stone, which we raised and tipped to one side. The removal of the slab revealed a black aperture, from which rushed an effluence of miasmal gases so nauseous that we started back in horror. After an interval, however, we approached the pit again, and found the exhalations less unbearable. Our lanterns disclosed the top of a flight of stone steps, dripping with some detestable ichor of the inner earth, and bordered by moist walls encrusted with nitre.

And now for the first time my memory records verbal discourse, Warren addressing me at length in his mellow tenor voice; a voice singularly unperturbed by our awesome surroundings. I seemed desperately anxious to accompany my friend into those sepulchral depths, yet he proved inflexibly obdurate. At one time he threatened to abandon the expedition if I remained insistent; a threat which proved effective, since he alone held the key to the thing. All this I can still remember, though I no longer know what manner of thing we sought.

After he had secured my reluctant acquiescence in his design, Warren picked up the reel of wire and adjusted the instruments. At his nod I took one of the latter and seated myself upon an aged, discoloured gravestone close by the newly uncovered aperture. Then he shook my hand, shouldered the coil of wire, and disappeared within that indescribable ossuary. For a moment I kept sight of the glow of his lantern, and heard the rustle of the wire as he laid it down after him; but the glow soon disappeared abruptly, as if a turn in the stone staircase had been encountered, and the sound died away almost as quickly.

I was alone, yet bound to the unknown depths by those magic strands whose insulated surface lay green beneath the struggling beams of that waning crescent moon. In the lone silence of that hoary and deserted city of the dead, my mind conceived the most ghastly phantasies and illusions; and the grotesque shrines and monoliths seemed to assume a hideous personality—a half-sentience. Amorphous shadows seemed to lurk in the darker recesses of the weed-choked hollow and to flit as in some blasphemous ceremonial procession past the portals of the mouldering tombs in the hillside; shadows which could not have been cast by that pallid, peering crescent moon.

I constantly consulted my watch by the light of my electric lantern, and listened with feverish anxiety at the receiver of the telephone; but for more than a quarter of an hour heard nothing. Then a faint clicking came from the instrument, and I called down to my friend in a tense voice. Apprehensive as I was, I was nevertheless unprepared for the words which came up from that uncanny vault in accents more alarmed and quivering than any I had heard before from Harley Warren.

He who had so calmly left me a little while previously, now called from below in a shaky whisper more portentous than the loudest shriek: If you could see what I am seeing!

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Speechless, I could only wait. Then came the frenzied tones again: I never dreamed of THIS! Then the voice of Warren in a pitch of wilder consternation: Around me were the tombs and the darkness and the shadows; below me, some peril beyond the radius of the human imagination. But my friend was in greater danger than I, and through my fear I felt a vague resentment that he should deem me capable of deserting him under such circumstances. More clicking, and after a pause a piteous cry from Warren: Yet it remained tense through anxiety for me.

But his next whisper found me still held inert in the chains of stark horror. I know not how many interminable aeons I sat stupefied; whispering, muttering, calling, screaming into that telephone.

Answer me—are you there? I have said that aeons seemed to elapse after Warren shrieked forth his last despairing warning, and that only my own cries now broke the hideous silence. The narrator hears ghastly noises and Mr. Carter urges him to leave. The end will make you feel like bugs burrow into your pores.

I found a description of a voice powerful and terrifying. He used the word "gelatinous" which makes me think of a phlegm infested throat and the hearing of those vibrations. Awesome read, and short, maybe twenty minutes. Cosa que aveces leyendo no se siente esas emociones. Ha sido mi primer audiolibro y me ha encantado la experiencia.

Relato muy cortito pero no por ello menos inquietante. Mar 25, Oziel Bispo rated it liked it. Um conto cheio de horror e terror contado pelo mestre H. Jun 04, Javier Divalero rated it really liked it. This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here. You shouldn't explore mortuaries in the middle of the night Warren's crazy, maybe he's got a Necromonicon book I love how Warren dies especially because of the mysticism which Lovecraft uses at the end to describe the dead scene Remember don't wake up anything you can't stop Quite a short tale of a man journeying into the depths of the earth and the horror he finds there.

Full review to follow. Lovecraft knew that the secret to a good horror story was to leave the right things out, letting your imagination do the rest. It's a style that has perdured until today, and for good reason. The Statement of Randolph Carter is standard Lovecraft, with creepy imagery that is only precise enough, and a mentally unstable narrator that drops clues slowly and unaware, allowing for Lovecraft's eerie writing style to take over.

Oct 04, Scarlet Cameo rated it liked it. Sep 17, Laura rated it liked it. No pierde tiempo en describir detalles que a nadie le importan y se crea un clima de suspenso hasta el final. The essence of Lovecraft's unseen, maddening horrors - the theme that time and again has made us shiver and imagine terrible, unearthly, unknowable things. I love these stories.

Incredibly simple, minimal in detail - and it all clicks so well. Jan 10, Netanella rated it really liked it Shelves: I never dreamed of THIS! That's him in the quote above. Our adventurous duo decide to explore an underground crypt in the dead of night. Warren, being wise and experienced in these things, decides that Carter must remain above, while he descends into the dark vault, trailing a long telephone wire behind him.

I love the imagery of this scene. After all, he could barely comprehend it. This is where I have to simply proclaim that I simply adore the cheeziness that is ol' Howie. And Carter gets told off. I'm looking forward to Through the Gates of the Silver Key.

Apr 04, Godzilla rated it really liked it Shelves: This is a very short story, but Lovecraft packs it with tension and it has a finale which is chilling in the extreme. Despite being almost years old, this tale feels fresh and alive. The venture the protagonists set out on is never fully spelt out, and the narrator seems unsure of its purpose. From there the suspense is slowly racked up, with the horror taking place never fully named, leaving the readers imagination to fill the gaps.

Jan 14, Monse rated it really liked it Shelves: Este cuento lo tuve que leer por el colegio. Apr 07, Ringman Roth rated it really liked it. If you have never read Lovecraft and you are interested, this is a good story to start with. I wouldn't recommend the rest of Lovecraft's "Dream Cycle" for Lovecraft newbies as this story is much different from those. This story, is short, quick to the punch, and creepy.

Its my top-pick as a good Lovecraft gateway story. Lovecraft is hard to get in to and while I love many of his stories, and ideas, I will admit that many can be painful to read and there's quite a few "stinkers" that he has writ If you have never read Lovecraft and you are interested, this is a good story to start with. Lovecraft is hard to get in to and while I love many of his stories, and ideas, I will admit that many can be painful to read and there's quite a few "stinkers" that he has written.

I really hate to see new HPL readers start with one of the more "popular" stories from die-hard fans only to get completely turned off, by their dismal pace, overwritten prose, and dismal conclusions. So ignore everyone else's top ten list, and start with this one.

Find a time when you have a solid, quite, minutes to read, turn the lights down, and read it slowly. Its short, but worth getting your imagination in the right gear while reading it. If you are still interested after that, and are willing to take on something longer, read the Dunwich Horror. An unsettling and perfectly crafted short from the master of weird horror fiction.

It was in a deep, damp hollow, overgrown with rank grass, moss, and curious creeping weeds, and filled with a vague stench which my idle fancy associated absurdly with rotting stone. On every hand were the signs of neglect and decrepitude, and I seemed haunted by the notion that Warren and I were the first livi An unsettling and perfectly crafted short from the master of weird horror fiction. On every hand were the signs of neglect and decrepitude, and I seemed haunted by the notion that Warren and I were the first living creatures to invade a lethal silence of centuries. Jun 14, Carole Rae rated it really liked it.

This is technically book 1 of the "series".

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I read book 2 a while back. Had no idea there was some sort of order, because there really isn't an order, but there is all at the same time. But you can read any of the shorts that belong to this "series". They tie in, but then they don't all at the same time.

Fun stuff this Lovecraft fellow. But you know what? Don't be poking your nose into places that you don't belong. There were warnings This is technically book 1 of the "series". But do humans listen? This was quick and it ended quickly. I really do want more. I wish there had been to this. A page or two more would have been better. A quick read that did make me scared.

Ugh poor Harley the things he had to see. Luckily Randolph got away with his life and part of his sanity.