The internet, I don't know.

I don't know.

I awoke abruptly from a horrible dream and stared wildly from a horrible dream and stared wildly about.

Then seeing the high arched ceiling in the narrow-stained windows of my friend's room, a flood of

uneasy revelation coursed over me, and I knew that all of Andrew's hopes had been

realized. I lay a pine in a large bed the post of which reared upward and dizzy

perspective while on vast shelves about the chamber were the familiar books and

antiques I was accustomed to seeing in that secluded corner of the crumbling and ancient

mansion which had formed our joint home for many years.

On a table by the wall stood a huge candelabrum of early workmanship and design,

and the usual light window curtains had been replaced by hangings of somber black, which took on a faint

ghostly luster in the dying light.

That was the opening of the disinterment by Duane Rimmel.

I hope I'm pronouncing that right, is that right?

A story commonly thought to be written by Lovecraft, but as we noted when we covered the tree on the hill,

which was a collaboration. This co-author Duane Rimmel

dispute Lovecraft's contributions. By the way, I'm Chad Fife.

Now I'm Chris Larkin you're listening to the H.P. Lovecraft literary podcast at

H.P. podcraft. This was the excerpt from the article by

Rommel that we talked about before. Incidentally my first story in weird

tales that disinterment was not and I repeat not ghosted by HPL as certain would be critics and editors those were in quotes

would like to believe this fraud was perpetrated upon me behind my back so to speak

...