Tynan Portillo presents, featuring the works of Edgar Allan Poe and the best horror stories from the 19th century. Welcome to The Poe Show podcast. Music and narration by Tynan Portillo.

Today’s episode, Nyarlathotep by H.P. Lovecraft.

Nyarlathotep . . . the crawling chaos . . . I am the last . . . I will tell the audient void. . . .

I do not recall distinctly when it began, but it was months ago. The general tension was horrible. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a daemoniac alteration in the sequence of the seasons—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces to that of gods or forces which were unknown.

And it was then that Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. He said he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet. Into the lands of civilization came Nyarlathotep, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. He spoke much of the sciences—of electricity and psychology—and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the small hours, that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.

I remember when Nyarlathotep came to my city—the great, the old, the terrible city of unnumbered crimes. My friend had told me of him, and of the impelling fascination and allurement of his revelations, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; that what was thrown on a screen in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and that in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the eyes. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not.

It was in the hot autumn that I went through the night with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. And shadowed on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. And I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning; struggling around the dimming, cooling sun. Then the sparks played amazingly around the heads of the spectators, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about “imposture” and “static electricity”, Nyarlathotep drave us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. I screamed aloud that I was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. We sware to one another that the city was exactly the same, and still alive; and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and laughed at the queer faces we made.

I believe we felt something coming down from the greenish moon, for when we began to depend on its light we drifted into curious involuntary formations and seemed to know our destinations though we dared not think of them. Once we looked at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and almost on its side. When we gazed around the horizon, we could not find the third tower by the river, and noticed that the silhouette of the second tower was ragged at the top. Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a different direction. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the echo of a shocking moan. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad. My own column was sucked toward the open country, and presently felt a chill which was not of the hot autumn; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls. The column seemed very thin indeed as it plodded dreamily into the gulf. I lingered behind, for the black rift in the green-litten snow was frightful, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; but my power to linger was slight. As if beckoned by those who had gone before, I half floated between the titanic snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the sightless vortex of the unimaginable.

Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the gods that were can tell. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctified temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.

Hello and welcome back to The Poe Show and thank you for watching the first visual episode ever on this podcast, now available on YouTube. Sorry Spotify enjoyers, I went through Buzzsprout to make this podcast originally and I may make a switch eventually, but I don’t know how the logistics of keeping the episodes for all of that goes so…I’m gonna have to do some research on that. If any of you has advice on that, then please let me know. And remember, if you’re looking for a voice actor or narrator for your next project, then feel free to contact me at poeshowpod@gmail.com. Or if you wanna feature your own story on The Poe Show!

You may notice that this episode is…of a different quality than usual. I had to sell my previous microphone, the Shure MV7, to have enough money to move apartments. I’m bummed about it, but this Fifine microphone gets the job done, so I’m grateful I’ve got it. I’ll return to a higher audio quality soon enough.

Before getting into the Aftertalk, I want to give a huge thank you to all of the fans of The Poe Show! This podcast has officially made over 2,500 downloads, we have 1,148 followers on TikTok, where I do most of my posting now, over 100 subscribers on YouTube and 90 followers on Spotify! The growth for our community has been on such a great track and I hope you know that I love each and every one of you and thank you so much for your time and for listening. Onto the Aftertalk.

Nyarlathotep was published in 1920, and, I think, perfectly personifies the idea of Lovecraftian literature. It’s also pretty short, and considering that I keep running out of time these days because I get so unbelievably busy, this story was perfect.

I will say, having the visual aspect here now changes my personality a bit, I can tell that already.

The music for this episode was pretty easy to make, honestly. I played ambient sounds that fit the nature of the story and just highlighted the important parts with certain stings to emphasize them. Whenever a story feels more ethereal, I feel like it’s easier to make music for it, because, by the nature of the story, it’s meant to be indistinct.

This story was inspired by a nightmare H.P. Lovecraft had, which he described in a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner. He said it was, "the most realistic and horrible [nightmare] I have experienced since the age of ten." That makes a lot of sense in why it feels like a dream to read. In the end, a lot like The Hound, this story shows me that Lovecraft liked writing stories to creep people out - even though he kinda believed in these fictional stories - and there is no point to it other than gaining some sense of nihilism or enjoying a freaky short story. Thanks, Lovecraft.

It’s crazy how his work inspired so much after his life too. Like Bloodborne. Bloodborne is the best Souls Game in the whole franchise. Prove me wrong.

Moving on!

I’d like to take some time to answer some fan mail that was sent to the show. Remember that if you have any questions about the creative process of this podcast or suggestions for new episodes, then you can always send an anonymous text to the podcast using the link in the episode description. We have a few messages but here’s the first one.

This person says, “I loved the True Crime episode about Lizzie Borden! Are you planning on doing more True Crime soon? Love to know if and when.”

Thank you for the message and question. Yes, I do plan on doing more True Crime of the 19th Century, it’s just a lot of work. I prefer quality over quantity, whether that’s to my ultimate detriment on here or not. But that means that any historical facts I talk about on this podcast, I want to make sure they are correct, well-informed, well researched and presented fairly. It can be very easy to form a bias when doing research and manipulating the facts to fit one’s own narrative. I want to avoid that as much as possible. And have as much info as possible. I can’t give you a timeline for it right now, but yes, I will do more true crime episodes in the near future. Especially since you show such interest. Let’s say by…September. In time for Halloween. How about that? In time for Halloween.

Our second message reads, “When is the next YouTube video coming?”

And that’s it, that’s all it says. Good question, thank you. Well obviously we’re doing visual episodes now so there’s that but…um…I hate to say the same thing about YouTube videos but…coming soon. Right now I am a music director for a group called the Uptown Girls and I am doing a lot of hard work keeping up with the musical needs of the group. I also work a full time job, because this podcast isn’t paying bills yet, but here’s to hoping - I think it’s worth it! I think I’m putting out good enough content to be making this my full time thing! Been doing it for a long time too! Anyway, soon, I promise. I don’t have a timeframe yet but I will definitely let you know when I do have one. In fact, I’ll even spoil something. I’ve got one in the works for a short film of The Cask of Amontillado. So, be on the lookout for that coming soon.

The last message says, “I’m in a music production course right now and would love to know how you made the music for The Cask of Amontillado. I have an assingmen to rewrite a movie’s music and I chose The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Your episode is exactly the kind of sound I’m trying to make. I’m working in Pro Tools and would love some advice. As in depth as possible, please. Thanks!”

Well, I work in Logic Pro so if you’re working with Pro Tools I think you’re already ahead of me. In fact, you’re in a course so you’re definitely ahead of me haha. I’m self taught with all this. But uh, I get sounds in my head when I read stories, then I try my best to form those sounds - and the feeling that I get when I read a story - into music.

For The Cask of Amontillado, I heard a choir in my head. So I recorded my voice and my wife’s voice and layered them together with a few different takes, 6 maybe 8 voices, added an echo effect and lowered their volume. I also put some of the tracks a bit behind others so the consonants wouldn’t match up just right, which made it sound more human.

Until recently, I recorded on a Shure MV7 and I’m looking to upgrade to a better mic that has more control, but the MV7 has been great for everything I’ve needed so far. I added this right here, the Iconic Mars foam ball, to give an added studio effect to my recordings, and I feel that this setup is great for my situation, not every situation. Plenty of voice actors and narrators and singers go for mics that have more sensitivity and range, but I need the voice isolation tech in Shure’s microphones for my environment right now. I use the Focusrite Scarlett 2i2 4th gen - really simple interface that packs a lot of power and has always been amazing. And all of these episodes are made, like I said, in Logic Pro on my pre-owned macbook 12.

I felt that The Cask of Amontillado gave off a very religious vibe, so I immediately went to get an organ and choir and Latin lyrics for the choir. The catacombs felt lonely so I focused on a repeated sound that could “echo” through the catacombs and sound uneasy. And I would always advise composers to develop a main theme or leitmotif for whatever they’re working on, so they have a tune to reference while making the rest of the music. It gives the work more of an identity. If you want more tips about that, I’d suggest watching videos on this YouTube Channel, Sideways, which I’ll link in the description. The way he talks about music seriously influenced how I make my own music.

Adding to all of that: study music theory.

I think there are 2 types of musicians: those who know how to craft something with musical meaning, and those who know how to craft something that sounds good. Those aren’t hard boundaries, but they can be pretty distinct. If you’re making music to sound good, you can make really good music. But if you know music theory well and can describe why using a Csus2 chord before moving on to an inverted G major chord resolves so well and sounds so good, you are starting to craft true art, which takes skill and patience. I, myself, am striving to be in that category of composer, where I know what works and why - not just that it sounds good. Religion and church music have a specific tone and pattern to their structure. So listen to tons of religious music and attempt to copy it, while learning why it’s made that way.

Thank you all for your questions and please send any and all of them my way, using the link in the description.

Thank you for listening to or watching this episode of The Poe Show, giving it a great rating, leaving a like and sharing it with others who love the works of H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe and other 19th century horror authors. I really appreciate your time and will be diligent in delivering the stories you are asking for. Be sure to follow on social media like TikTok - where I just recently went viral for sneaking into a warehouse to recite Edgar Allan Poe poetry, YouTube, Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Instagram, Bluesky, and more. All links are available in the episode description.

That’s all for now, but you’ll hear from me again on the next episode of The Poe Show.