Solomon Island is haunted by both the present and the past. Stand on the edge of the world and watch the light from the lighthouse sweep across this savage coast, across those dead amusement park rides and that creepy academy, past the abandoned motel, into those pitch-black backwoods, and you'll start to understand Solomon Island was haunted from the very beginning — a place touched by evil. There was always darkness here, thick as the fog. It was in every crack, in the closets and closed drawers, behind drawn curtains, and in shallow graves. No one spoke about it: you didn't mention the murders, the odd sightings, the things in the sea, the lights in the sky, the nightmares, the whispers... it just wasn't done. It was our dirty secret, our curse to carry... until now.
— Savage Coast Trailer, The Secret World
"So this town, Kingsmouth, which is a play on words from Kingsport and Innsmouth from H. P. Lovecraft lore, is overrun by zombies and just about everything else you can imagine. In fact, the names in this town border on ridiculous: Arkham Avenue, Lovecraft Lane, Elm Street, Belmont Avenue, Poe Cove, Dunwich Road, Dagon Bay, Miskatonic Bridge, Sasqua Pond, Kraken Point, Skull Island. Wow, I guess we know what some of the influences are."
— Ross Scott, Ross's Game Dungeon, The Secret World
Strange country up here; New Hampshire and Vermont appear to be the East's psychic answer to Colorado and New Mexico — big, lonely hills laced with back roads and old houses where people live almost aggressively by themselves. The insularity of the old timers, nursing their privacy along with their harsh right-wing politics, is oddly similar and even receptive to the insularity of the newcomers, the young dropouts and former left-wing activists — people like Andy Kopkind and Ray Mungo, co-founder of the Liberation News Service — who've been moving into these hills in ever increasing numbers since the end of The '60s. The hitchhikers you find along these narrow twisting highways look exactly like the people you see on the roads around Boulder or Aspen or Taos.
— Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing on The Campaign Trail '72
For him, the very words "New England" seemed to be stripped of all traditional connotations and had come to imply nothing less than a gateway to all lands, both known and suspected, and even to ages beyond the civilized history of the region. Having been educated partly in New England, I could somewhat understand this sentimental exaggeration, for indeed there are places that seem archaic beyond chronological measure, appearing to transcend relative standards of time and achieving a kind of absolute antiquity which cannot be logically fathomed.
— "The Last Feast of Harlequin", by Thomas Ligotti
"Is Stephen King really writing fiction? Or is he just a small-town historian who got filed in the wrong part of the bookstore?"
— Antimony Price, InCryptid: That Ain't Witchcraft
The snowbanks are melting, revealing what has been sleeping beneath them all winter. They are hungry.
Why is that field red? The children ask. It’s a cranberry bog, the adults repeat. Just a cranberry bog. The eyes in the bog do not blink.
"They're not safe to eat unless you boil them alive." The old fisherman tells you. You think, you hope, he means the lobster. But he never specifies, and you never ask.
Why is that field red? The children ask. It’s a cranberry bog, the adults repeat. Just a cranberry bog. The eyes in the bog do not blink.
"They're not safe to eat unless you boil them alive." The old fisherman tells you. You think, you hope, he means the lobster. But he never specifies, and you never ask.
— tumblr user quiriusblack, excerpts from "massachusetts gothic
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