A Cultist’s Guide To Swedish Furniture

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is anxiety over trying to figure out how to assemble that damnable Swedish furniture. These facts most psychologists will dispute, but that is solely due to their horrid and unspoken addiction to köttbullar, and they, therefore, cannot be trusted. Against this chthonian truth are discharged all the shafts of a materialistic desperation, which clings to the inherent human longing for inexpensive kitchen shelving, insipid ikealism which deprecates the aesthetic motive and calls for a didactic pedagogy to uplift the buyer toward a suitable degree of insouciant consumerism. Yet in spite of all this grönsakianistic hubris, the self-assembled furnishings industry has thrived, expanded, and entered nearly every metropolis of the globe; founded as it is on a profound and elementary self-deception involving our ability to put together misshapen bits of wood as if we were, ourselves, all architects of our own destiny and carpenters of our own chattels. These things cannot be explained, for there are Those whose own interests align never with the goals and hopes of ordinary Humanity.

~H.P. Lovecraft

I will stress this once more:

burn this document before reading it. Unworthy eyes are never to look upon this information, and all human eyes are unworthy. For herein we catalogue that for which we have striven a thousand years; and it is not for us to bring this understanding into our unworthy minds. Better to let your eyes water in its pitiless smoke than to read on.

Now read on.

I. Gamla Uppsalan Credenza.

This large, rectilinear side-table, sturdy upon its eight unusually weighty legs, is the perfect thing for the host who wants to entertain a whole gaggle of guests with a wide variety of foodstuffs and exotic beverages, then drug one of said guests, and, after the other partygoers have gone home, affix the subject’s body firmly to the solid-steel cupholders at the extremities of the dining surface, and sacrifice that mortal unto our Masters from beyond the Void. The well-cured wood is resistant to even substantial bloodstains, and it’s made from the lumber of treelike things which grow only in the hellish soil of the plains of Leng, so if the subject struggles and your dagger misses a couple of times, it oughtn’t do more than leave couple of suspiciously-shaped scratches. We recommend blaming the cat.

II. Carcosan Skrivbod.

An experienced sorcerer can plot the end of the world from just about anywhere; while it helps to have a library of unholy tomes (such as this one), all you really need is meditation, strange herbs, an inhuman lifespan, knowledge of secrets best left undiscovered if the fragile mind of man wishes to maintain its pitiful and tenuous grasp on what it believes to be sanity, and (obviously) a well-organized kitchen.

Nevertheless, we can’t help but note that you have completely failed to successfully summon the Old Ones for hundreds of years, and, frankly, even then, the Mary Celeste barely counted as a snack, and it was a salty one, at that.

So we’ve designed you a desk. The unusual shape is to provide room for a small bookcase, an ergonomic arm rest, an upraised monitor screen, a mini-fridge, a pencil sharpener, a blender, and some Ultharian cat handcuffs. Don’t put any of that stuff on the desk, of course, idiot.  This desk has been carefully forged in the shape of a seven-pointed Djävulen Sigil, which focuses occult energies and pours them into anyone seated at the apex point, which ought to be where you’re sitting right now.  Use it, you dullard; the Ancient Ones grow impatient.

III. Níðhöggr Hantverk 
This is not a hatrack, you fool. These are antennae, insectile, invasive, tens of thousands of them, a swarm, placed by unsuspecting hands within countless domiciles around the globe, and that number is ever-growing, as this object is both affordably-priced and an attractive asset to any habitat or workplace environment. Each Hantverk stands dauntingly high above the average human head, supported by a tripodal structure made of thrice-cursed copper. Its limbs, whose powers are by no means impeded by the coats frequently draped upon them by the ignorant, jut outwards at an obtuse angle, reaching upwards in beseechment of the Unlit Places.
This bestselling fixture is topped by a profane crown, whose awkward shape has earned it more “impaled self, perished, would not buy again” ratings than pretty much any other object we carry. Its hooks are curled, bent, broken ironwood, which grasp the air hungrily in an unsanctified profanation of the symbol algiz, which modern humans believe means “protection”. That’s partially correct; technically, it’s more like “protection from the infestation of this planet by dementedly half-witted semi-hairless apes“. Through the Hantverk, making a noise inaudibly low and disquieting in the extreme, pours an endless signal which pulses beyond Time and past Space.
It is this signal which, amplified in sonorous fury by each and every individual installation of this ill-fated Thing in each unguarded office and living-room, which will eventually fracture the barriers holding our Overlords back from their natural dominion over this pathetic realm, and shatter every Elder Sign in a flash of unearthly conflagration. You’ve kept us waiting too long, mortal; but now the outermost reaches of the Cosmos give way and none, none shall be spared. All shall perish. Before you die, try the meatballs, they’re delicious.  The secret’s in the sauce.  What’s in the sauce? Man was never meant to know—
___________
About the Author:
H.P. Lovecraft’s angry ghost is currently pursuing me down a hellish non-Euclidian maze within The Nameless City, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to re-use one of my old biographies here.
Jeff Mach is one of the universe’s most notable fictional monsters.  He feels kind-of weird writing a new biography at the bottom of every piece, especially the fictional ones, but the bottom of the pages seems a bit empty to him otherwise.  Anyway, Jeff Mach writes stuff, which you probably know if you’re seeing this, considering the fact that the website is called “Jeff Mach Writes”. His Twitter is @darklordjournal, and there’s nothing to stop you from buying his novel, “There and NEVER, EVER BACK AGAIN: Diary of a Dark Lord“. Except for common decency, obviously.

 

 

Jeff Mach Written by:

“There and NEVER, EVER BACK AGAIN: Diary of a Dark Lord” is the first novel by Jeff Mach, playwright, event creator, and certified Villain. If you'd like to meet Jeff Mach, or if you're simply a Monstrous Creature yourself, you should come to Jeff's new event, Evil Expo.

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