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Chapter 1: Why is Dagon's Mirror significant in Lovecraftian lore?
Welcome back to Creepcast. Today, we are going Lovecraftian, my friends, and I am foaming at the mouth for Dagon's Mirror.
I've tried to get him to read this story for a while now, and he's been like, oh, because I thought it sounds cool. But then he has that intro, so he did think it sounded cool this entire time. He just didn't want to show me enthusiasm for the thing I was interested in. That's fine. That's fine. We're reading it anyway, so it's whatever. But yes, today we are reading Dagon's Mirror.
I do sound like a baby. And I will always sound like a baby. And I won't apologize for it.
Chapter 2: Who is Nick Lowe and what are his notable works?
Did you like that? The story was written by Nick Lowe. It's hard to find any information about him because every time I search Nick Lowe, it just brings up stuff related to the songwriter. But it seems that the author, the story came out in 2024, so it's a little over a year old. He has this story. He has one called The House of Dead Gods, which sounds really cool.
And another one called The Shambler in the Attic, which also sounds cool.
What is a shambler? A shambling like when you're at the shake, right? You're shambling.
No, no, no. Like it's like a limp kind of like I'm a shamble. Yeah, like a slow, like you can't really walk right, but you're trying to like work over to something. Yeah. So it's like dragging itself around the attic. A guy with gout in the attic. Pretty much. So he has these three stories, and they're all recent. Like the oldest one, The House of Dead Gods, is from November of 2023.
So this seems to be an up-and-coming writer. So if this story is cool, you all certainly check him out. And hopefully... Nick continues to make these kinds of things. But first of all, let's check out the story. It's got an 8.7 out of 10 on creepypasta.com, which is pretty good.
Do these even have... Are the rating system on creepypasta.com, is it actually... is this something to take seriously? I guess, you know what I mean?
Well, it depends if it's a famous story. No, because then people will vote it highly or lowly for the meme, right? Like jump the killers, like nine stars or something, right. Or wise, um, to, because it's funny, but if it's not super popular, then typically the ratings are more legitimate because people are rating it in earnest.
Right.
So if you go to like binge around, it's got thousands of 10 stars. Cause people are, you know, being the people, um, But something like this, having 8.7 is probably pretty close, pretty close to the bottom.
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Chapter 3: What is the Marsh family's mysterious history?
So he looks like a giant fish.
Yeah, I mean, it would have to be, like a giant trout or something.
Yeah, his appearance was nothing less than outlandish. He would stumble along the cobbled streets of Barton Village every Saturday morning in his weekly sojourn to the local stores. His journey caused his neighbors great unease, and passerbys would cross the street in an effort to avoid exchanging even the simplest of pleasantries with the man.
I was particularly disturbed by my uncle's visage as I unfortunately shared a few or more loathsome traits myself. Thankfully, however, these were less pronounced and shocking than those found on my uncle's grim face. My mother, too, shared what was known in Barton as the Marsh Look. although her deviant features, like mine, were softer and even less obvious than my own.
She got away lightly indeed, with large, watery eyes, her only obvious heritage of the tainted marsh bloodline.
I wonder if this angle of the story is going to go into like a Teen Wolf vibe. You ever see Teen Wolf, the movie?
I haven't seen it, but it's about like the whole family's werewolves, right?
Yeah, or a guy like, I think it was like something to be, maybe not necessarily puberty, but at a certain age, he basically turns into a werewolf and he finds out that his dad is as well. And I'm wondering if this is going to be, oh, I'm finding out that I'm a fish person.
So, so far he's saying that all member, or at least it's his mom's brother, right? So his mom has some traits and they're pronounced in himself, the author, but his uncle's the one that looks like a fish person.
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Chapter 4: What happens at the Gunner's Cloth and why is it feared?
Mm-hmm. Yeah. I remember when I was very young, my mother issued me a warning to never enter the Gunner's Cloth, despite my uncle living there. And I often wondered just what witchcraft was being played out in secret underneath the skeletal trees. These warnings were ubiquitous among all Barton children, and with good reason.
Before I was born, a local child had been found dead in the woods, half submerged in the black slop that had once been a stream passing through the cloth. Little was done about the matter. It was assumed that the child had fallen into the muck and drowned, and every Barton resident was quick to attribute a more sinister conclusion to the life of little Maggie Hagen.
Despite the macabre reputation, or perhaps because of it, the whole area was the haunting ground of young boys during the summer months, and sadly, and with great embarrassment, my uncle was seen as something of a local boogeyman by my peers. As a result, he suffered relentless taunting at the hands of Barton's children.
There was precious little else to do in the village during the school summer break, and the taunting of my uncle became something of a local sport.
Boys approved their mettle by hurling rocks at the windows of the gunner's cloth cottage where my uncle resided, or knocking on his door only to flee as the frog-faced resident cautiously answered their call before sinking back into the dark of his home. God, how sad.
jesus it's depressing i'm like getting carried away with the flowery language but at the same time it's like a guy looks ugly and they're like idiot throwing rocks at his window and stuff i mean but very true to uh childlike harassment or whatever yeah freak and they run off what does every kid do when they see a guy with a disability at the grocery store point and laugh
Point.
Why is it like that? Mom, why does he look like that? Mom, what's wrong with him? Mom, why doesn't he have... Why don't him do his other arm?
Has it said also... I was going to ask. Has it said... What year is this? I don't know why, but I keep picturing, like, 50s.
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Chapter 5: How does the protagonist inherit his uncle's possessions?
Yeah. So, is that... Which, I mean, I'm...
dumb and i'm fucking super dumb where where is the north sea at because that's like the one where it's like you do not go near that shit right the north sea i think that's the same area i'm pretty sure what i was going to say if it is i'm like i'm wondering if it's if it's connecting to that to where like that's like the most treacherous which obviously he's not like um i know that you have to go out a bit but still if you're like localized a little bit near it
I didn't know if it was going to connect with that, but... It might be.
I'm honestly dumb to it as well, especially... I'm surprised you've never done a video on, like, the North Sea.
I feel like that would be, like, a idea up your alley. All the crazy, mysterious shit that goes on out there. Yeah.
I kind of touched on it before, and, like... other videos I've talked about like the, um, cause a lot of that relates to like the idea of like the wool, like the lost country and the ice wall and stuff like that. And, you know, maps and things like that. So I've kind of touched on that a little bit, but not specifically the North sea, but yeah, you're right.
That would be, that would be something interesting looking to the original branch of the family had come to England from the United States where a great deal of my relatives had lived in the decaying and damned port town of Innsmouth, Massachusetts. Yeah. Oh, there it is. There she is.
There's your tip of the cap, sir.
There she goes. For those that don't know, Innsmouth is a city that's mentioned a lot in Lovecraft's words.
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Chapter 6: Who is Dr. Artemis Harlan Glass and what is his interest in the collection?
Oh, Hunter. Oh, baby. What do we do? What do we do to deserve all this? Oh, it's so good. Oh, it's just so cool. It's so cool. I love it so much. That's one of my favorite things about like Call of Cthulhu. Like how it talks about there's a city that like is so big we can't comprehend it and it lies beneath the ocean. Things like Cthulhu seem dead or they seem gone because they're just sleeping.
But eons to us are a second to them. Yeah.
Time is completely different.
Yeah. He spoke of an ancient pact made with these Deep Ones that resulted in a mixed heritage of humans and something, and of the twisted families of New England who carried this taint within their blood, marshes being but one. He spoke too about the mirror in my cellar.
Occasionally the Deep Ones had made such a gift to the tribes of humans who had worshipped them and their old gods as a means of contacting the people below the waves, should they ever be needed in dire times or upon the approaching times of their disgusting. unholy rites.
By the time the doctor had finished spinning his tale of antiquated horror, the hour had grown late, far too late for him to catch the last train back to London, and so, with a little reluctance, I assured him that a bed would be available for him in my guest room. He retired long before I did.
I found it difficult to sleep at all after hearing about the so-called marsh taint and how it connected with things written down centuries ago within the books my uncle had kept and adored. Was Uncle Marsh looking for something within those books? Was he looking for a cure to his condition, perhaps?
Whatever he had uncovered from the tome, it had caused him to calmly walk beneath the waves of the freezing Irish Sea without so much as a second glance back at the life he once lived. I do not know exactly what time I had fallen asleep on the couch. A half-empty glass of brandy still cradled in my hand, but I was aware of what had stirred me from the depths of my slumber.
It had been a crashing sound, like something heavy falling down, and it had greatly disturbed the silence of the house. Blinking the fatigue from my eyes, I immediately thought of the doctor and imagined, aged as he was, that he had left his bed in the night to make use of the facilities and had fallen in the dark.
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