This is the (more of less) complete public domain works of H. P. Lovecraft.
The Complete Collection
of
H. P. Lovecraft
b.1890 — d.1937
This book contains every story in the public domain that has been attributed to H. P. Lovecraft and confirmed in the online resource, The H.P. Lovecraft Archive.
This collection includes all of H. P. Lovecraft's available published works.
The Nameless City
The Festival
The Colour Out of Space
The Call of Cthulhu
The Dunwich Horror
The Whisperer in Darkness
The Dreams in the Witch House
The Haunter of the Dark
The Shadow Over Innsmouth
Discarded Draft of "The Shadow Over Innsmouth"
The Shadow Out of Time
At the Mountains of Madness
The Case of Charles Dexter Ward
Azathoth
Beyond the Wall of Sleep
Celephaïs
Cool Air
Dagon
Ex Oblivione
Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family
From Beyond
He
Herbert West-Reanimator
Hypnos
In the Vault
Memory
Nyarlathotep
Pickman’s Model
The Book
The Cats of Ulthar
The Descendant
The Doom That Came to Sarnath
The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath
The Evil Clergyman
The Horror at Red Hook
The Hound
The Lurking Fear
The Moon-Bog
The Music of Erich Zann
The Other Gods
The Outsider
The Picture in the House
The Quest of Iranon
The Rats in the Walls
The Shunned House
The Silver Key
The Statement of Randolph Carter
The Strange High House in the Mist
The Street
The Temple
The Terrible Old Man
The Thing on the Doorstep
The Tomb
The Transition of Juan Romero
The Tree
The Unnamable
The White Ship
What the Moon Brings
Polaris
The Very Old Folk
Ibid
Old Bugs
Sweet Ermengarde, or, The Heart of a Country Girl
A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson
The History of the Necronomicon
* * * * *
First published in
No. 11 (November 1921), Pages 3-15
When I drew nigh the nameless city I knew it was accursed. I was travelling in a parched and terrible valley under the moon, and afar I saw it protruding uncannily above the sands as parts of a corpse may protrude from an ill-made grave. Fear spoke from the age-worn stones of this hoary survivor of the deluge, this great-grandmother of the eldest pyramid; and a viewless aura repelled me and bade me retreat from antique and sinister secrets that no man should see, and no man else had dared to see.
Remote in the desert of Araby lies the nameless city, crumbling and inarticulate, its low walls nearly hidden by the sands of uncounted ages. It must have been thus before the first stones of Memphis were laid, and while the bricks of Babylon were yet unbaked. There is no legend so old as to give it a name, or to recall that it was ever alive; but it is told of in whispers around campfires and muttered about by grandams in the tents of sheiks, so that all the tribes shun it without wholly knowing why. It was of this place that Abdul Alhazred the mad poet dreamed on the night before he sang his unexplained couplet:
“That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons even death may die.”
I should have known that the Arabs had good reason for shunning the nameless city, the city told of in strange tales but seen by no living man, yet I defied them and went into the untrodden waste with my camel. I alone have seen it, and that is why no other face bears such hideous lines of fear as mine; why no other man shivers so horribly when the night-wind rattles the windows. When I came upon it in the ghastly stillness of unending sleep it looked at me, chilly from the rays of a cold moon amidst the desert’s heat. And as I returned its look I forgot my triumph at finding it, and stopped still with my camel to wait for the dawn.
