I Have 48 Hours a Day

　　 Zhang Heng pointed to the half-typed manuscript on the old typewriter.

　　 "Is this your new book?"

"No, this is not my novel. In fact, it belongs to a friend of mine. I helped him make some revisions and revisions, and in return he would pay me some rewards." Lovecraft seemed a little bit like this. Ashamed, he added hurriedly, "Usually I don’t charge money for these jobs, mainly because the situation at home has been difficult recently. By the way, you said you’ve read my novel in the newspaper. ?"

　　 "Actually, they are almost everywhere." Zhang Heng said.

　　 Lovecraft was a little at a loss.

　　 But before he could ask a question, Zhang Heng moved a chair from the side and placed it in front of him, "Let’s talk about the novels you wrote."

"Ah, okay," when he said that Lovecraft had changed his previous stupidity in his novel, he immediately became enthusiastic. "Those I'm writing... things originated from what my grandfather told me. Those horror stories. They opened a door for me. Before that, I have never seen other words that can mobilize human emotions so strongly. What’s more interesting is that monsters have not appeared in most horror stories. The atmosphere of time is actually the most stressful, so I have been thinking from a very young age, what are we afraid of?"

　　 "The oldest and strongest human emotion is fear, and the oldest and strongest fear is the fear of the unknown." Zhang Heng said.

"This is exactly what I want to say!" Lovecraft said excitedly, "Imagination, imagination is the key to all of this. In my novels, I have always been committed to creating an atmosphere that can maximize imagination. , Rather than describe things that bring fear directly. Because no matter how terrifying the things you describe in words, they will not be more terrifying than readers think. In addition, another trick is to make your article look As true as possible, let the reader combine the novel with his own life."

　　 "Sounds very effective." Zhang Heng said.

"I also think this should work, but I don't know why. My editor told me that my article does not have too many readers." Lovecraft said embarrassedly. "Actually, I can't pay and pay for the contribution alone. For my aunt’s living expenses, we have moved several times. Before, I didn’t like typing with a typewriter, because the noise it made made it hard for me to concentrate, and I was accustomed to drawing some drafts on the manuscript paper when I was writing. , I can’t do this with a printer."

Lovecraft sighed when he said that, "But now, in order to pass some more manuscripts, I also start to try to type with a typewriter. After all, we have moved several times, and if we move again, I’m afraid we can only go. Slum."

　　 "This will be a good start." Zhang Heng said.

"hope so."

Lovecraft said that there was a smile on his pale face, and then he seemed to have thought of something again. He opened the drawer of his desk and took out a bottle from it. Half of red wine.

"I didn't expect guests to come at home, and I didn’t have much preparation. This was my grandfather’s red wine. At that time, my family was still prosperous, and I lived in a big mansion surrounded by servants. But now, I All I have is this bottle of wine." Lovecraft laughed at himself.

　　 "Why are there only you and your aunt, and your parents?" Zhang Heng asked.

"My father... had some mental illness. He had a mental breakdown in a hotel in Chicago and then died in a mental hospital. My mother, she lived a little longer, but then also died. Not long after that, I met my wife in Boston. We lived together for a few years, but in the end her hat point closed down and we were divorced. Then I returned to Providence with Aunt Anne."

When Lovecraft said that there was another knock on the door outside, and then a strange expression appeared on his face, and he said to himself, "Aunt Anne asked me to go to dinner again, strange, obviously She called me just fifteen minutes ago."

　　 "Are you going to open the door first?" Zhang Heng took a wine glass from Lovecraft's hand and asked.

　　 "No, Aunt Anne will open the door." Lovecraft said, "I just need to focus on my creation."

　　 And not long after his voice fell, there really was a sound of opening the door outside.

Then a dining car was pushed in. The waiter who delivered the meal seemed to have become accustomed to the strange situation in the room. He didn't say a word during the whole process. After the meal was delivered, he pushed the dining cart and left the room, and brought it back before leaving. Closed the door.

　　 "Come and have some together." Lovecraft greeted warmly, "As long as you don't dislike my family's simple food."

　　 As a result, Zhang Heng did not get up after hearing this.

　　 He looked at the man in front of him and asked, "How long have you been suffering from a mental illness? Is it inherited from your father?"

Lovecraft was stunned, and a moment later he showed a bitter smile, "How do you know, my father... I did have a low spirit after death, no, to be precise about that time My spirit would break down from time to time. I failed to complete my high school and therefore failed to enter the university I wanted to go to. But now I feel much better. Dr. Green prescribed me the medicine and I have been taking it."

　　 Lovecraft pointed to a small medicine bottle on the table.

　　 Zhang Heng opened his eyes, but the inside was empty at some point.

　　 This is not surprising. Because of Lovecraft’s face and living environment, there is no money left in his family at this moment, and he is almost out of food~www.wuxiaspot.com~ of course the medicine prescribed by the doctor before. It makes no sense to continue to afford it.

In the final stage of his life, the horror novelist has reached the point where there is nowhere to go. At the same time, he has been suffering from mental problems. He may even be unable to distinguish between reality and hallucinations, just like what he wrote. Affected by Cthulhu, he gradually lost his mind like a believer.

Zhang Heng suddenly understood how the monster in the city under the ice was born. He looked at the thin, sickly horror novelist in front of him, and said, "I don’t need to eat. I have something else to do today. do."

Lovecraft's expression dimmed when he heard the words. Although he kept shutting himself in the room and not going out, he could see that deep down in his heart he also longed for friends, especially those who would recognize him, even though he and Zhang Heng didn’t know each other for a long time, but when Zhang Heng said he appreciated his talent, he really planned to regard the stranger who met by the water as his friend. Therefore, when Zhang Heng refused his invitation to eat together Will feel extremely disappointed.

However, before he could say anything, I heard Zhang Heng continue, "You said that you are helping other authors to change the text. It happens that I also have some writing problems. If it is not troublesome, can I continue to visit you afterwards? ?"

　　 "Of course." Lovecraft exclaimed.

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