Fiction: The Second Sphinx

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By Rebecca Stefoff

A month before I was to leave for Egypt with Napoleon’s army, the Comte d’Erlette asked me to call on him. “My son, you do not have to go,” my mother said to me three times, but I was more than willing. It was past time for a reckoning with the Comte. I would demand an accounting and swear …

IFPFiction: The Second Sphinx

Fiction: Curvature of the Witch House

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By Wendy N. Wagner

The crows! The caw, gaw, gaaaw all day and into the twilight. As if they know they can stop my work. Lousy devils, snapping their beaks every time I step outside to chase them away. Shuffling on their feet of three claws.

So many multiples of three in this space. Three in each triangle. Three angles, one shape. …

IFPFiction: Curvature of the Witch House

Editorial: Issue 7

With summer come the beach and the sun. But we didn’t want you to feel too safe and warm, so Issue 7 is out with some chilling stories and a cover illustration by Scott Purdy. Instead of taking a vacation in some sunny location, won’t you journey into our decadent Innsmouth?

Renowned Mythos writer W.H. Pugmire begins our trip and takes us into the “Cool Mist”, where a haunting song will bring terror. Next comes “A Tour of the Catacombs”, …

IFPEditorial: Issue 7

Fiction: Cool Mist

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By W. H. Pugmire

Note: “Cool Mist” first appeared in DEATHREALM #2, 1987. This version has been revised by the author.

Night seeped into the early evening sky and made it black. I remember wandering that realm of ink in search of perfect solitude, hunting for one uninhabited place where I could sit undisturbed and weep for the soul of my young lover, dead by his own hand. Finding my way to the waterfront, which was near …

IFPFiction: Cool Mist

Fiction: Every Little Sparrow

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By Melissa Sorensen

Phebe Alexander shook out the coarse black folds of her day gown and pulled them over her nightclothes. She also put on her unseasonably-thick woolen stockings and added protective garments donated by one of the Lucyspoole Female Orphan Asylum’s benefactors: thick and ill-shaped black cloth gloves that went up to her elbows, as well as a broad-brimmed hat made of plaited straw, dyed black, with a surprisingly fine-woven black veil that was meant to …

IFPFiction: Every Little Sparrow

Fiction: Black Sand

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By Regina Glei

Despite his many layers of clothing, Orin almost froze to death and cursed the Elders who had sent him on the journey through the plain to the Cone Islands in the Lake of Stone.

It had taken three days to cross the plain and the first mountain range. The only living thing that he and Lyda had seen during their journey had been a nameless, thorny shrub that hid between rocks from the constant …

IFPFiction: Black Sand

Fiction: On the Generation of Insects

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By Byron Alexander Campbell

Democritus bears witness that men first appeared in the form of small worms, which little by little assumed human shape…After a long period of fertility, during which many monstrous and marvelous generations were brought forth, the Earth Mother became at last exhausted and sterile….
– Francesco Redi, Experiments on the Generation of Insects
Trans. Mab Bigelow

From a series of unpublished letters, addressed to his friend and colleague Carlo Roberto Dati, discovered in

IFPFiction: On the Generation of Insects

Fiction: A Tour of the Catacombs

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By Stephen Woodworth

Please watch your step as we descend. As you can see, these stairs were cleft into solid stone and their slant has become treacherous from the tread of so many feet.

And I hope there shall be no stragglers among you. As we say in the Abbey, only two sorts enter the Catacombs: the quick and the dead.

The crypt predates the Abbey, of course, by many centuries. You can see for yourself the …

IFPFiction: A Tour of the Catacombs

Fiction: Nyarlathotep

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By Don Webb

(For Elizabeth Berkeley)

I stood on the high balcony, looking eastward to the rising sun. The pillars were deep-red and the roof slightly curved, suggesting “China ” to me. But it was not China – at least, not the China of now. Below me, the grass glowed slightly, a bluish-green, and I could feel the throb of the waterfall. Its rush dominated and canceled all other sounds. The fall was gigantic and …

IFPFiction: Nyarlathotep

Editorial: Issue 6

Welcome to our sixth fiction issue. When we launched in March of 2009, full of enthusiasm, little did we know how much work and how much fun this would be. We also didn’t know how much people would come to love our little corner of the Internet. We have watched Innsmouth grow, from its first tremulous baby steps, to its current incarnation. We’ve gone from a few hundred readers to more than 10,000 visitors in a month. So, this February, …

IFPEditorial: Issue 6

Fiction: The Ghosts of Old Milford

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By Aaron Polson

Nathan knew what they’d find under the house.

Even before the bulldozer blade crushed the grey wood into a pile and pushed it aside on a June day in 1968, Nathan Porter knew. He knew what they’d find under the house which used to sit at the end of a lonely street in a town called Milford, a house which used to crowd secrets under its corniced roof and tall, …

IFPFiction: The Ghosts of Old Milford

Fiction: Tenderfoot

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By Daniel José Older

I remember Delton Jennings. Bumped into him pretty regularly on my late-night sojourns and the guy was nice enough, if you could get past the rambling and hygiene issues. But this flattened mass of flesh, blood-crusted hair and organs? There’s a name tag where they guessed the foot would’ve been and without it, I wouldn’t know old Delton from a ham sandwich.

The one thing that is impossible not to …

IFPFiction: Tenderfoot