By Donald Tyson
H. P. Lovecraft's compelling personality, Abdul Alhazred, is delivered to existence during this epic story detailing the mad sorcerer's tragic historical past and magical adventures. Alhazred tells his personal lifestyles tale, starting with himself as a negative, good-looking boy in Yemen who draws the eye of the king for his divine ability in poetry. because the court docket poet, younger Abdul lives a sumptuous lifestyles on the palace, the place he stories necromancy and magic. yet falling in love with the king's daughter ends up in a silly tryst, that's eventually chanced on. As punishment, Abdul is tortured, brutally mutilated, and solid into the wasteland, often called the Empty house. combating madness, he joins a tribe of ghouls and learns forbidden secrets and techniques from a stranger known as Nyarlathotep. hence starts off his downward spiral into wickedness. Renamed Alhazred, he escapes the wasteland and embarks on a quest to revive his physique and reunite along with his real love. touring around the historical international and really good nation-states, he's hounded by means of foes and laid low with the calls for of his darkish lord.
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Additional resources for Alhazred: Author of the Necronomicon
It became aware of my attention, and its movements quickened as though with interest. While I continued to walk along the road it circled me, always remaining at a distance as though attracted yet at the same moment frightened by my awareness of its presence. It was to be a night of surprises. Walking around a bend in the road, I saw standing beside a small mound of stones the figure of a woman. Her body glowed even as mine. She stood naked with her back to me, unaware of my approach. As I drew near, the strangeness of her nature revealed itself.
The grave clothes of the corpse had rotted away. Any jewelry of base metals had corroded to nothingness with the years. There was no gold. A cloud of light surrounded me, pressing over my face and stifling my breath like a layer of cloth. I recognized the sensation, having felt it before after opening the grave of the Bedouin. The djinn had wrapped its arms around me and was pressing its hands over my mouth and the ruin of my nose in an attempt to suffocate me. With a shrug of annoyance, I cast it off and went on with my search, but it returned like a buzzing fly, pressing its body through mine.
My right hand slid beneath the shadow of my belly to the scabbard of my dagger and closed around the hilt of my weapon. The ghoul grasped my robe at the shoulder and pulled me to my knees to expose my throat. As I rose from the ground, I drew the dagger and in the same motion plunged it into his belly. His cry resembled that of a hawk. I twisted the broad blade of the knife and pulled it loose, then buried its point between his ribs, where I hoped to find his heart. The ghoul dropped to his knees in the sand so that our eyes were on the same level and stared at me in amazement.