A Lovecraftian Landscape
It arrived midday on a Wednesday, suddenly appearing as if dropped off in bulk. I examined the hideous mass and estimated its volume at eight cubic yards. It was dark, mysterious, smelling of ancient days. Though this neighborhood hales itself as Old Farm, this mass reached back further in time with the notes of earth and decay. As I circled this phenomena, steam rose from its center, a type of exhale; a warmth emanating from its heart in contrast with the cool, spring breeze. It was exerting its presence. Though an old one, it was becoming known. I was concerned not only for the appearance of this mass but also for its impact, considerably impairing my ability to extract my horseless carriage from its stall. Being a man of action I knew something must be done, and it must be done by me. As one eats the elephant one bite at a time and walks a mile one step at a time, I began a long and laborious endeavor. With square shov...