Chapter 1424 The Oldest Human Emotion Is Fear

Zhang Heng pointed to the half-typed manuscript on the old typewriter.

"Is this your new book?"

"No, this is not my novel. In fact, it belongs to a friend of mine. I help him make some revisions and revisions. In return, he will pay me some money." Speaking of this, Lovecraft seemed a little Ashamed, he hurriedly added, "Usually I do these jobs for free, mainly because the situation at home has been really difficult recently. By the way, you said you have read my novel, it was in the newspaper ?"

"Actually, they are almost everywhere." Zhang Heng said.

Lovecraft was a little dazed upon hearing this.

But before he could ask a question, Zhang Heng moved a chair from the side and put it in front of him, "Let's talk about the novels you wrote."

"Ah, well," said Lovecraft, who had changed his previous stiff and reserved manner, into a frenzy as soon as he mentioned his novel, "I'm writing about... things that originated from my grandfather telling me horror stories. They opened the door for me. I have never seen any other text that can mobilize human emotions so strongly. What is more interesting is that in most horror stories, monsters have not yet appeared. The atmosphere at the time was the most tense, so from a very young age, I wondered, what is it that we are afraid of?"

"The oldest and strongest emotion of human beings is fear, and the oldest and strongest fear is the fear of the unknown." Zhang Hengdao.

"That's exactly what I want to say!" Lovecraft excitedly said, "Imagination, imagination is the key to all this. In my novels, I have always been committed to creating an atmosphere that can mobilize the imagination to the maximum extent. , instead of describing things that bring fear positively. Because no matter how scary something you describe in words, it must not be scarier than the reader imagines. In addition, another trick is to make your article look Be as real as possible, and let the reader relate the novel to his own life."

"Sounds very effective." Zhang Heng said.

"I also think this should work, but for some reason, my editor told me that my articles don't have many readers." Lovecraft said awkwardly, "In fact, I can't pay and pay for the manuscript fees alone." My aunt's living expenses, we have moved several times, I have always hated typing on a typewriter, because the noise it makes makes it difficult for me to concentrate, and I am used to sketching on the manuscript paper when writing , I can’t do this kind of thing with a printer.”

Lovecraft sighed at this point, "But now, in order to pass more manuscripts, I also started to try to type with a typewriter. After all, we have moved several times. If we move again, we may have to go to the It's a slum."

"This will be a good start." Zhang Heng said.

"hope so."

When Lovecraft said this, a smile appeared on his pale face, and then he seemed to think of something again, and opened the drawer of his desk, and took out a bottle from it. Half of the red wine.

"I didn't expect that there would be guests at home, and I didn't have any preparations. This is my grandfather's red wine. At that time, my family was still prosperous, and I used to live in a big mansion surrounded by servants, but now, now I All I have is this bottle." Lovecraft laughed to himself.

"Why are you and your aunt alone at home, and where are your parents?" Zhang Heng asked.

"My father... suffered from some mental illness, he had a nervous breakdown in a hotel in Chicago, and he died in a mental hospital, and my mother, who lived a little longer, also died of illness. And Not long after that, I met my wife in Boston and we lived together for a few years, but eventually her hat shop closed and we divorced, and then I went back to Providence with Aunt Annie."

When Lovecraft said this, there was another knock on the door, and then a strange expression appeared on his face, and he said to himself, "Aunt Anne asked me to eat again, strange, obviously She just called me fifteen minutes ago."

"Do you want to open the door first?" Zhang Heng took a wine glass from Lovecraft's hand and asked.

"No, Aunt Anne will answer the door." Lovecraft said, "I just need to focus on my creation."

Not long after his words fell, there was a sound of opening the door outside.

Then a dining trolley was pushed in. The waiter who delivered the food seemed to have gotten used to the strange situation in the house. He didn't say a word during the whole process. the door.

"Come and eat together." Lovecraft warmly greeted, "As long as you don't dislike my simple food."

As a result, Zhang Heng didn't get up when he heard the words.

He looked at the man in front of him and asked, "How long have you been suffering from mental illness, is it inherited from your father?"

Lovecraft was stunned, and after a while he showed a somewhat bitter smile, "How do you know, my father... After his death, I was indeed depressed for a while, no, to be precise, during that time I I would have mental breakdowns from time to time, and I didn't finish my high school, so I didn't get into the college I wanted to go to, but now I feel better, Dr. Green gave me medicine and I've been taking it."

Lovecraft pointed to a small medicine bottle on the table.

Zhang Heng opened his eyes, but the inside was already empty at some point.

This is no surprise. Because of Lovecraft's face and living environment, at this moment, his family has no money left, and he can't even eat enough to eat. Of course, the medicine prescribed by the doctor before doesn't make sense and he can continue to take it afford it.

By the end of his life, the horror novelist had reached the end of his rope, had nowhere to go, and suffered from mental problems, and probably could not even tell reality from hallucinations, as in his novels. Affected by Cthulhu, he gradually lost his mind like a believer.

Zhang Heng suddenly understood how the monsters in the city under the ice were born. Looking at the thin and sickly-faced horror novelist in front of him, he said, "There is no need to eat. I have other things to do today." Do."

Lovecraft's expression darkened when he heard the words. Although he kept shutting himself in the room and did not go out, it could be seen that deep down in his heart he was also longing for friends, especially friends who would recognize him. Although he and Zhang Heng has only known each other for a short time, but when Zhang Heng said that he admired his talent, he really planned to regard this stranger he met by chance as his friend, so when Zhang Heng rejected his invitation to have dinner together will be extremely disappointed.

However, before he could express anything, Zhang Heng continued, "You said that you are helping other authors to revise the text, and it happens that I also have some writing problems. If it doesn't bother me, can I continue to visit you after that? ?”

"Of course." Lovecraft said happily.