Many of his friends called him Howard, which seems natural. Yet he almost lawyas signed H.P. Lovecraft. I was reading through a 1904 story by Sabine Baring-Gould featured in his A Book of Ghosts. The story is entitled, "H.P."
Spoiler Warning.
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Still time to stop reading ...
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OK.
H. P. stands for Homo Praehistoricus. An explorer through a series of events is confined through accident and collapse of the roof in a cave. Inside, H.P. appears with a rather viscious temperment and the enlightened scientist has a civil conversation - via telepathy - as means to calm the savage. A debate of sorts ensues about the merits of the ancient and Victorian era. At the end, svaiours rush in and the ghost of H.P. vanishes. The scientific-adventurer exclaims, "Let H.P. lie where he is ... I have enough of prehistoric antiquities."
You, gentle reader, be the judge of this, The Beast in the Cave and a dislocated, high school dropout and wannbe astronomer named Howard.
{Barng-Gould wrote Onward Christian Soldiers, many other hymns, and was a prolific author of many subjects.}
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