Friday, October 31, 2014

Las fantasmagorías de Monsieur Quemador - XXVIII

Cursed the ground where dead thoughts live new and oddly bodied, and evil the mind that is held by no head. Wisely did Ibn Schacabao say, that happy is the tomb where no wizard hath lain, and happy the town at night whose wizards are all ashes.

Warlock, el Brujo (Warlock)
Steve Miner (1989)

Gavin in The Tower. The Bear that Came to Providence

Las fantasmagorías de Monsieur Quemador - XXVII

I have told you this tale exactly as my father has told it to me over and over again, and I believe that it is authentic, because it agrees in all respects with what I have observed of the manners and customs peculiar to those who have passed away. I have associated a good deal with the dead ever since my childhood, and I know that they are accustomed to return to what they have loved.

Candyman, el dominio de la mente (Candyman)
Bernard Rose (1992)

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Las fantasmagorías de Monsieur Quemador - XXVI

"10:15 P.M. Important discovery. Orrendorf and Watkins, working underground at 9:45 with light, found monstrous barrel-shaped fossil of wholly unknown nature; probably vegetable unless overgrown specimen of unknown marine radiata. Tissue evidently preserved by mineral salts. Tough as leather, but astonishing flexibility retained in places. Marks of broken-off parts at ends and around sides. Six feet end to end, three and five-tenths feet central diameter, tapering to one foot at each end. Like a barrel with five bulging ridges in place of staves. Lateral breakages, as of thinnish stalks, are at equator in middle of these ridges. In furrows between ridges are curious growths - combs or wings that fold up and spread out like fans. All greatly damaged but one, which gives almost seven-foot wing spread. Arrangement reminds one of certain monsters of primal myth, especially fabled Elder Things in Necronomicon.
"Their wings seem to be membranous, stretched on frame work of glandular tubing. Apparent minute orifices in frame tubing at wing tips. Ends of body shriveled, giving no clue to interior or to what has been broken off there. Must dissect when we get back to camp. Can’t decide whether vegetable or animal. Many features obviously of almost incredible primitiveness. Have set all hands cutting stalactites and looking for further specimens. Additional scarred bones found, but these must wait. Having trouble with dogs. They can’t endure the new specimen, and would probably tear it to pieces if we didn’t keep it at a distance from them."

In The Mouth of Madness
John Carpenter (1994)

Las fantasmagorías de Monsieur Quemador - XXV

Harry and Tommy were not famed for gentleness within the immediate precincts of their respective homes, but it would have delighted the heart of any philanthropist to see the kindly manner in which they arranged for the pleasures of the helpless babes. With smiling faces and playful words and gentle wiles they led them within the arbour, and then, under pretence of giving them some of those sudden jumps in which infants rejoice, they raised them from the ground. Tommy held Zacariah across his arm with his baby moon-face smiling up at the cobwebs on the arbour roof, and Harry, with a mighty effort, raised the cherubic Zerubbabel aloft.
Each nerved himself for a great endeavour, Harry to give, Tommy to endure a shock, and then the form of Zerubbabel was seen whirling through the air round Harry's glowing and determined face. There was a sickening crash and the arm of Tommy yielded visibly.

Los chicos del maíz (Children of the Corn)
Fritz Kiersch (1984)

Gavin in The Tower. Thy End Is Nigh

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Las fantasmagorías de Monsieur Quemador - XXIV

After all these dreams there remained on waking a remembrance of having been in a place very nearly dark, and of having spoken to people whom I could not see; and especially of one clear voice, of a female's, very deep, that spoke as if at a distance, slowly, and producing always the same sensation of indescribable solemnity and fear. Sometimes there came a sensation as if a hand was drawn softly along my cheek and neck. Sometimes it was as if warm lips kissed me, and longer and longer and more lovingly as they reached my throat, but there the caress fixed itself. My heart beat faster, my breathing rose and fell rapidly and full drawn; a sobbing, that rose into a sense of strangulation, supervened, and turned into a dreadful convulsion, in which my senses left me and I became unconscious.

Vampiros de John Carpenter (John Carpenter's Vampires)
John Carpenter (1998)

Gavin in The Tower. Hard Bargain

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Las fantasmagorías de Monsieur Quemador - XXIII

Je me dressai, les mains tendues, en me tournant si vite que je faillis tomber. Eh ! bien ?… on y voyait comme en plein jour, et je ne me vis pas dans ma glace !… Elle était vide, claire, profonde, pleine de lumière ! Mon image n’était pas dedans… et j’étais en face, moi ! Je voyais le grand verre limpide du haut en bas. Et je regardais cela avec des yeux affolés ; et je n’osais plus avancer, je n’osais plus faire un mouvement, sentant bien pourtant qu’il était là, mais qu’il m’échapperait encore, lui dont le corps imperceptible avait dévoré mon reflet.

Guy de Maupassant - Le Horla

Las fantasmagorías de Monsieur Quemador - XXII

La calle sombría, la noche ya entrada,
la lámpara triste ya pronta a expirar, 
que a veces alumbra la imagen sagrada
y a veces se esconde la sombra a aumentar.

El vago fantasma que acaso aparece,
y acaso se acerca con rápido pie,
y acaso en las sombras tal vez desparece, 
cual ánima en pena del hombre que fue,

al más temerario corazón de acero
recelo inspirara, pusiera pavor;
al más maldiciente feroz bandolero
el rezo a los labios trajera el temor.

Mas no al embozado, que aún sangre su espada
destila, el fantasma terror infundió,
y, el arma en la mano con fuerza empuñada,
osado a su encuentro despacio avanzó.

El estudiante de Salamanca - José de Espronceda

Monday, October 27, 2014

Las fantasmagorías de Monsieur Quemador - XXI

At high noon of the night in which she departed, beckoning me, peremptorily, to her side, she bade me repeat certain verses composed by herself not many days before. I obeyed her. They were these:

Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly;
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their condor wings
Invisible Wo!

That motley drama!—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot;
And much of Madness, and more of Sin
And Horror, the soul of the plot!

But see, amid the mimic rout,
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And the seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out—out are the lights—out all:
And over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm—
And the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero, the conqueror Worm.

Edgar Allan Poe - Ligeia

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Gavin in The Tower. Acción de Gracias

Disculpen el baile tipográfico entre la tira de ayer y la de hoy, pero es que no termino de cogerle el punto, la verdad.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Con el cubo, Tío Pepe, con el cubo

No lo miro muy a menudo porque soy bastante dejado para estas cosas, pero hace poco me hicieron notar que La Aventura Original iba ya por las quinientas descargas. Hoy lo he vuelo a mirar y ya van las seiscientas cincuenta y nueve, no está nada mal.

Para conmemorar este acontecimiento aquí les dejo el origen de uno de los puzzles que añadí al juego y que no estaban en el original, uno de mis sketches favoritos de Barrio Sésamo. Todavía me parto cuando lo veo.

Es curioso cómo las cosas se agarran a tu cerebro cuando eres un crío y cómo su influencia se puede notar en las cosas más peregrinas décadas después.

Wednesday, October 01, 2014

Feliz Octobrulhu

Parece que el calor veraniego aun intenta alguna incursión ocasional, pero el penetrante frío de los abismos de R'lyeh ya empieza a apoderarse del ambiente.

¡Feliz Octobrulhu a todos!