The Innswich Horror by Edward Lee Read Free Book Online

hefty stack
of photographs. An instantaneous thrill made my nerves buzz at the
prospect. Mary, even in her disapproval of the man, must’ve called
ahead to tell him what it was I sought. I nervously took a seat,
and flung open the folder…
    What a horror the times have turned this
world into. I could’ve gagged at the repellent images that leapt up
at my eyes from the glossy surfaces of the photographs. These were
neither pictures of Lovecraft nor of Olmstead in days past. It was,
instead, outright pornography.
    The scenes depicted in the few sheets I
looked at need not be described. I can only say that the
photography itself was strikingly vivid and every bit of
expert.
    “But the ones with the white girl making it
with the colored fellas are a buck each,” he continued. He skimmed
off the tattered raincoat and hung it up on a nail in the wall. “If
you’re into kids, they’re two bucks each.”
    I thrust the evil folder back to him. “This
is… not… what I came for.”
    “Oh, so you’re a seller? Well, you gotta pay
me up front for the film and developer, and I get half of what I
can sell ‘em for. But keep in mind, if they ain’t pretty enough, I
won’t bother ‘cos I can’t sell the pictures. And the more you can
talk ‘em into doing, the more I can sell ‘em for.”
    Through a dazedness of
incomprehension, I merely replied, “ What? ”
    He shot me a glare sharp as a dagger. “It’s
the business, man! You got a couple cute daughters and you want me
to snap ‘em nude or fuckin’ guys, right?”
    I stared. “No,” I croaked. “I have no
children.”
    “Then what do you want,
Morley?” he suddenly yelled. “I need money, and you’re wasting my time!
Get out of here!”
    Bleary-eyed, I gave him a ten-dollar
bill.
    “What’s the sawbuck for?”
his rant continued after snapping the bill from my fingers. “I
don’t turn tricks, man! I’m no swish! You want to fuck a girl, fine, I got one
here, but don’t bullshit around! You’re starting to scare the shit
out of me—” and then he yelled at what was presumably the door to
the bedroom. “Candace! Come out here!”
    Before I could object, the door opened, and
out stepped a timid and very naked woman in her twenties. One hand
covered her bare pubis; her other arm attempted to cover two very
swollen breasts. What she couldn’t cover at all, however, was the
belly stretched out tight and huge from a state of pregnancy that
had to be close to the end of its term. Obliquely, I made out a
radio tune from the other room, “Heaven Can Wait,” I believe, by
Glen Gray.
    The girl smiled crookedly at me through a
gap in the hair falling over her face. “Hi. We-we could have a nice
time together, sir…”
    More of the real world I
didn’t care for at all. By now I’d managed the shock of this
horrendous miscalculation, and produced a frown of my own which I
directed immediately to Zalen. “I gave you the money so you needn’t
feel your valuable time is wasted . I’m not interested in
prostitution nor pornography.”
    Zalen chuckled. “Come on,
Mr. Morley. You ever had your tallywhacker in a pregnant girl? Bet’cha
haven’t.”
    “You’re a profane vagabond!” I yelled at
him.
    “—and it’s not like you can knock her
up.”
    I wished that looks could
kill at that moment, for my look of utter loathing would surely
have shorn him in half. “I’m interested in a particular photograph I’m told
you’re in possession of, and if this is the case, I’ll pay you one
hundred more dollars for it.”
    Zalen looked agape at my
words, then flicked a hand at the girl, to shoo her back into the
bedroom. “A hundred dollars, you say?”
    “One hundred dollars.” Now I noticed what
first appeared to be splotches of pepper inside the man’s elbows
but my naivety wore off in a moment and told me they were needle
scars. “My patience is growing thin, Mr. Zalen. Do you or do you
not have a photograph of a writer by the name of Howard