It was a godless sound one of those low-key insidious outrages of nature, which are not meant to be

To call it a dull whale a doomed drag wine or a hopeless howl of chorused anguish and stricken flesh without mind,

would be to miss its most quintessential loathomeness and soul-sickening overtones. Was it for this that Ward had seemed to listen on that day he was removed?

It was the most shocking thing that Willitt had ever heard, and it continued from no determinant point as the doctor reached the bottom of the steps

and cast his torchlight around on lofty corridor walls surmounted by Cyclopeian vaulting and pierced by numberless black archways.

The hall in which he stood was perhaps 14 feet high to the middle of the vaulting and

ten or twelve feet broad. Its pavement was of large chipped flagstones and its

walls and roof were of dressed masonry. Its length he could not imagine, for it stretched ahead indefinitely into the blackness.

Of the archways, some had doors of the old six-paneled colonial type, whilst others had none.

H.P.P.com. What is this place? It seems unnerving and creepy. I don't know what this place is. In fact, I don't know who you are.

Let me clear that up for you.

I'm Chad Fyfer.

Who are you, my friend?

Oh, I'm Chris Laki, and I happen to have a job.

I'm, I'm the host, co-host, actually,

of the H.P. Lovecraft literary podcast. I'm also the host, the co-host actually here at

H.P.P.com. That is an excerpt from The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, a story by

H.P. Lovecraft, well a novel really, or a novellette, I don't know what you want to call it.

We've been covering it.

Boy, have we?

Yeah, we have.

And this is our fifth.

...