There have been so many dozens of Mammoth Book of [insert theme here] books that I have no unearthly idea how Cthulhu got away unscathed all these years.
Hundreds of pages. Dozens of stories. Which is pretty much what you get with one of these Mammoth books. For my own piece, “It’s All the Same Road in the End,” it gave me the chance to use as a launch pad the best creepy obscure thing I ever found online, make it my own, then make it worse.
As cruel fate would have it, the source anecdote wasn’t one bit true, which is just as well. But we’re still left with this twisty tale of a fifty-year-old disappearance, the prison of family obligations, and the endless variety of deeply weird stuff that can go on in places where hardly anyone ever wants to live, before it all threatens to come to an end.