A Book of Days celebrating the peculiar world of Twitter's @lorecurious
“The moving finger writes, and, having writ, moves on.”
But often the handwriting is illegible, words are misspelled, the ink is blotted, pages torn and someone has filled the margins with blasphemously insane doodles.
Time is unstable.
History is in flux.
Things ain’t what they used to be...
Throughout the misbegotten centuries:
Innumerable sorcerers have opened divinely diabolic but terminally unstable portals to overworlds & underworlds.
Myriad time-travellers have become their own grandmothers before committing suicide by-proxy when murdered by their earlier selves, creating & erasing paradoxical alternative timelines, on a thrice-daily basis.
Countless polymathematicians have folded magic squares into inverted sub-Euclidean imploding hyperstates.
An uncertain unfinite number of non-existential quantum metaphysicists have tied knots in twisted string theory.
A perplexity of squamously cyclopean multidimensional gods have chewed wyrmholes through our universe, reweaving reality with their eldritch tentacles & randomly reshaping universal laws to suit their gibbering whims.
Human genes have been worn by demons & angels until they became frayed. Holes have been ripped in pocket dimensions and loose changes fall through at every moment.
Anachronoplasm has constantly yet inconsistently leaked into our world, making a mockery of causality.
Because of all this, and more, untold curious occurrences are eternally being erased from the historical record, as the tides of time erode and reform the shores of an unstable past.
Lost years, secret histories & forgotten events have slipped down the back of the sofa of time to gather cosmic dust in the hidden recesses of dubious nevereverlands.
Our days have become strange.
We live in interesting times...
Weird indeed is the curious lore of the yesterdays deleted from today’s history.
All those days, dismembered and disremembered, long and long ago.
But not by everyone.
For this book is a record of those figments, fragments & broken dreams.
A memento mori etched in sanguine remembrance of timeless times & spaceless places. Neverwhens that did not happen, neverywhere.
This is a tome that tells the lore of quaint & curious forgotten pasts, presents wrapped in enigmas, and of the ancient futures of long ago that, nevertheless, nevermore shall be...
“Look upon my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Within these unhallowed pages you will find scratched records of the necroplasmic bombardment of Earth by the sadistic Martian warpmind.
You will encounter the terrifyingly mutated killer clowns who serve Clod, the God of Fools & Jesters.
You will hear tell of the mischievously Machiavellian exploits of Sir Alistair Rookley, the self-styled Hierophant of Occult Crime, and of the perilous investigations of the inscrutable Inspector Miles Inch of Olde Scotland Yard.
You will encounter cannibalistically barbarous piemakers, and slyly sinister sockmonkeys.
You will read of demonically possessed porcelain dolls and dashing aerial pirate-queens, of devilish soulswapping parties and bloodstained but rarely spotted polkageists, of the struggles of therianthropic werebeings & of the dastardly plans of the ungrateful undead.
Each and every day of the year has its own Curious Forgotten Lore, featuring festivals of unremembered gods, feasts of heretical saints, reports of freakish weather, unexpected births, sudden deaths, slow undeaths, ill advised marriages, alchemical weddings, antichristenings, apocalyptic anniversaries, idiotic inventions, endless wars, foetid famines, asinine assassinations, corpuscular coronations and assorted gruesomely horrendous bloodthirsty sacrifices.
You Have Been Forewarned.
Samples from the book
An Official Warning Notice from Mr Jecklethwait P. Hardiegroove, Solicitor at Law
Wednesday, 10 April 2019
An Official Warning Notice
Mr Jecklethwait P. Hardiegroove, Solicitor at Law
31st February, In The Year Of Our Dark Lord, Twenty-Hundred-&-Nineteen
TO WHOMSOEVERFORTH IT MAY OR MAY NOT CONCERNETH
Dear Readers (and/or Readeresses – delete as appropriate &or inappropriate),
In accordance with the latest Official Health and Safety…
A Doll Called Elsie
Thursday, 28 March 2019
Once or twice upon a teatime, not so very long ago, there lived a little girl named Samphire Cobbs.
She lived in a nice thatched cottage, just outside the village of Grendelfell.
Samphire, or "Sammy" as everyone called her, had a best friend.
And Sammy's best friend was a doll, named Elsie.
Sammy loved to play with Elsie.
They were inseperable.
They had parties together.…
These people are helping to fund Strange Days: A Book Of Curious Forgotten Lore.