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MMCM - The White Ship

   • This is what I call Lovecraft Vol. 3: Drea...   MMCM - The White Ship H.P. Lovecraft; The White Ship (written 1919; published 1919; The United Amateur, November 1919, amateur press magazine) Basil Elton is a lighthouse keeper who lives a life of routine and isolation. On certain moonlit nights, he sees a strange white ship glide over the sea as if it belongs to a different set of rules. A bridge of moonbeams forms across the water, and Elton crosses it to board the ship. The ship is commanded by a silent pilot, and the voyage becomes a tour of dream-islands. Each land embodies a specific longing. Elton visits Zar, where human hopes gather before they fade. He sights Thalarion, a gorgeous city that proves deadly and corrupt when approached. He passes other shores that tempt him with joy, rest, or sensation, but each carries some hidden cost. Eventually the ship reaches Sona-Nyl, a tranquil land where time moves slowly and the air itself feels gentle. This is a place where it might be possible to stop chasing and simply be. Yet Elton hears rumors of a further land, Cathuria, said to be pure beauty and fulfilment. The promise of the “best” place ruins the chance to be content with the good one. Driven by that last craving, Elton urges the ship onward. The voyage reaches the edge of the world, where the sea and sky collapse into a white fall. The dream journey ends in disaster. Elton wakes beside his lighthouse as a real shipwreck unfolds in the dark water. Relics of the dream voyage seem to appear in the physical world, blurring the line between fantasy and experience. The story closes on the idea that the hunger for perfection can destroy even the most luminous journey, and that waking life will not fully forgive what the dream revealed. --- Moon above black water. Moon full, the water holds a bridge of light. A bearded pilot in pale robes lifts one hand. I step where no plank is, and the sea does not complain. The lighthouse behind me blinks once, then turns its eye away. Islands pass, each with a different perfume, spice, resin, wet stone. A bird of deep blue circles above the mast, and I follow its flight with my whole heart. We pass a shore of pale statues. We pass a garden that hums at dusk. Westward, farther than hunger. A promise named Cathuria pulls the helm. The horizon bends, the world ends, the ship tips into a white fall. The pilot never looks back. The sea forgets my name. Wind cuts out. The water turns blank. The light becomes a fall. I wake on wet rocks by my own lighthouse. The lamp is out. A real ship breaks itself on the dark. In the dawn, one white spar, one blue bird. I taste salt and old fear. I keep my mouth shut.