Erinn L. Kemper

Whenever I read Lovecraft a strange thing happens. My internal monologue starts funny-talking.

There’s this market I want to write something for, Whispers from the Abyss.  Flash fiction a la Lovecraft. I have a few ideas, but for inspiration I’ve been reading and re-reading some HPL, and some stories from anthologies inspired by him.

Whenever I hit the Lovecraft the same thing happens … that voice that narrates my life, that observes my surroundings and stows away interesting tidbits, takes on a new accent. It’s a creepy, eldritch voice that dwells on the cracks and bubbles in the plaster wall, obsesses about that cut on my finger keeps breaking open like a sucking mouth. In fact the whole finger is rather sinister the way it crooks at the end with an oddly bulging knuckle from an old basketball-stuffing injury.

Man does HPL seep into your head and twist it all up!