Photo and a story – The Squeak of Balloonthulhu

The Great Dread Balloonthulhu.

A balloon Cthulhu hat I received at ConClave from the awesome folks at Elder Signs Press.  Tweaked quite a bit in Photoshop.  Read a new, silly flash fiction story inspired by this photo after the break.  Happy Halloween!

Here’s a photo of me wearing said hat [photo by Deborah Jones]. Story after the photo. It is very silly.

The height of fashion.

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The Squeak of Balloonthulhu by Daniel J. Hogan

(with apologies to H. P. Lovecraft)

I curse the day our ship came within sight of that uncharted, demon isle.  My mind has been torn by the vile contents of that floating heap of dread.

Ba’lyeh, the Floating City.

Its twisted and bent structures were formed of a semi-transparent firm material that resembled bubbles. My eyes hurt to look upon it, yet I could not tear my gaze away.

The island lay off the Madagascar coast.  The captain of our vessel, a man I thought of strong will, took us unknowingly to the island.  He cited bizarre dreams, which guided his hand.

The crew protested approaching the abstract island that rested atop the waves, bobbing and drifting as if it were enjoying a leisurely swim.

The bright, shocking primary colors of the island’s structures approached obscenity.  Brilliant blues, gaudy greens and revolting reds—each attacked the senses.

My fellow passengers and I joined the crew’s protest, but the captain did not listen.

Only one passenger seemed pleased to near Ba’lyeh and its buoyant shores:  A hunched-backed, rat of a professor from Ginantonic University.  His shocking red-orange hair flared out on either side, as if his head had sprouted wings.  His face was a ghostly white.  His bulbous nose was a deep, blood red.  Odder still were his shoes: long and spacious at the toes, as if someone had shod a duck.

The professor clutched a brightly colored book and kept chanting, “Balloonthulhu fhtagn.”

The odd words were accented with honks from a small horn held in a free hand.  It was he who told us the name of the island.

We took rowboats to the island.  Walking was difficult, as our steps were returned with plenty of bounce.

The captain, inspired by his dreams, led us to the center of the island.  The professor continued his fevered chanting.

“Balloonthulhu fhtagn! Balloonthulhu fhtagn!”

We came to an immense structure.  It was made of giant, twisted semi-transparent tubes, like the rest of the isle.

It resembled a vault or a crypt.  Its titanic door was slightly ajar.  The professor ran past the captain, threw up his hands and screamed “Balloonthulhu fhtagn!” along with a dozen other dark, twisted words.

The door swung down like a drawbridge, releasing a terrible squeaking sound all the way.

An enormous, hideous shape shambled out of the mountain-sized door.

Most of the crew was instantly driven mad.  Their screams were drowned out by the terrible squeaking that followed the beast’s every move.

Its was made of a semi-transparent green material that twisted to form its gruesome visage.  Its face was a web of flopping tubes, and its eyes were blinding white orbs.  It grabbed everyone, save I, with its rubbery claws and consumed them.

I escaped to a rowboat and reached the ship, but I have been unsuccessful in operating the vessel alone, aside from releasing the anchor.

A terrible sound follows the drifting ship.  A squeaking.  A rubbing.

There!  At the window!  A giant eye!