Datlow, Ellen (ed) - Lovecraft's Monsters / Датлоу, Эллен (ред) - Монстры Лавкрафта [2014, epub, ENG]

Only the End of the World Again / Просто опять конец света short story by Neil Gaiman Bulldozer / Бульдозер novelette by Laird Barron Red Goat Black Goat / Красная коза, чёрная коза short story by Nadia Bulkin The Same Deep Waters As You / Такие же глубоководные, как и ты novelette by Brian Hodge A Quarter to Three / Без четверти три short story by Kim Newman The Dappled Thing / Пёстрый мир short story by William Browning Spencer Inelastic Collisions / Неупругие столкновения short story by Elizabeth Bear Remnants / Уцелевшие novella by Fred Chappell Love Is Forbidden, We Croak and Howl / Нам запрещено любить, мы квакаем и воем short story by Caitlín R. Kiernan The Sect of the Idiot / Церковь Бога-Идиота short story by Thomas Ligotti Jar of Salts / Банка с солью poem by Gemma Files Black As the Pit, from Pole to Pole / Чёрная, как яма, от края до края novelette by Steven Utley and Howard Waldrop Waiting at the Crossroads Motel / Ожидание в мотеле «Перекрёстки» short story by Steve Rasnic Tem I've Come to Talk with You Again / Старые друзья short story by Karl Edward Wagner The Bleeding Shadow / Кровоточащая тень novelette by Joe R. Lansdale That of Which We Speak When We Speak of the Unspeakable / Тот, чьё имя не выразить словами short story by Nick Mamatas Haruspicy / Гадание на внутренностях poem by Gemma Files Children of the Fang / Дети Клыка novella by John Langan

IT WAS A BAD day: I woke up naked in the bed, with a cramp in my stomach, feeling more or less like hell. Something about the quality of the light, stretched and metallic, like the colour of a migraine, told me it was afternoon. The room was freezing—literally: there was a thin crust of ice on the inside of the windows. The sheets on the bed around me were ripped and clawed, and there was animal hair in the bed. It itched. I was thinking about staying in bed for the next week—I’m always tired after a change—but a wave of nausea forced me to disentangle myself from the bedding, and to stumble, hurriedly, into the apartment’s tiny bathroom. . . .