Howard Lovecraft & the Frozen Kingdom

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Howard?

Howard, dear, are you scared?

There's no need to be frightened,

the storm can't hurt you.

It... It's not that, Mother.

It's just... Tonight's the

night we visit Father.

In the bad place.

Oh, Howard.

He's really looking forward to seeing you.

You're all he has left.

Just hold my hand, Howard.

Everything will be fine.

I don't like this place, Mother.

I know, darling. I don't either.

But you know why we've come.

I'm certain your father

will want to see you on his birthday.

Good evening, Dr West.

I received your message.

I know there's been no official change,

but I thought my husband could see his son

on his birthday.

Mrs Lovecraft,

I wish I could tell you that seeing his son

would be therapeutic for your husband,

but Winfield's mind

is like a shattered looking-glass.

That's a good one.

"Shattered... Looking... Glass."

But in all honesty,

I'm more concerned about the harm

it could do to the boy

to see his father in this state.

But haven't the treatments

shown any progress?

Oh, don't expect him to tango.

"Progress" is such an inexact term,

Mrs Lovecraft.

Most assuredly we have done everything

within medical boundaries to assist,

even a few things outside of

those boundaries to be honest.

I feel for you, and the child,

but Winfield is still showing

extreme nervous exhaustion

and nothing is calming him down.

I cannot advise visitation.

I just... I was hoping on his birthday

he could actually see his son.

Oh, why listen to me?

I'm merely a highly-trained professional

with expert opinions

on the secrets of life and death.

I don't know. Whatever am I to do?

Come along, Mrs Lovecraft.

Come along.

A little fatherly fear never hurt anyone.

I hear a lot of writers

are made that way, in fact.

He's coming.

He's coming.

King Abdul...

He always took care of everything.

Now I'm just lost.

He's coming.

He's coming.

Father?

He's coming, he's coming, he's coming,

he's coming, he's coming.

Father, it's me.

It's Howard. Who's coming?

Abdul Alhazred.

King Abdul. He is coming.

Father, please speak to me.

He's coming, he's...

- Howard?

- Father.

Howard, son.

Listen!

Listen to me!

I made a mistake.

No. I discovered it.

A mistake...

A glorious mistake.

Father, I miss you. I miss you so much.

Listen to me, son.

Listen! But not to King Abdul.

And not to the words.

Don't ever listen to the words! Or symbols!

The symbols will speak to you,

but do not listen.

Listen to me.

I saw it.

I heard it.

Should never have been written. Ever.

My mistake.

I never should have.

Howard. The words. The symbols.

Do not look.

Do not listen.

Do not read.

- Father.

- Swear it!

King Abdul, the Necronomicon,

the words, the symbols,

they will lead to...

To the sleeper of R'lyeh.

The Great Old One!

"That is not dead which can eternal lie,

and with strange aeons even death may die."

- Please.

- The Necronomicon, destroy it, Howard!

- Destroy it for my sake, for yours!

- Let go!

What do you think you're doing?

He must remain sleeping!

The Necronomicon must be destroyed, son!

- Help!

- Orderly.

The symbols must be destroyed,

before they destroy us all!

Orderlies!

Swear you'll destroy it!

Cthulhu cannot awake!

Restrain him!

I see the symbols.

And it's madness.

It's OK, Howard. Mummy's here.

Madness!

Why did you take him there

in the first place?

- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...

- No, Mary, you're right.

I mean, I have to raise Howard alone.

Oh, shh now. It's all right.

I'll help you, Sarah.

We all will.

I just worry.

He's always been an odd child.

That imagination of his,

it puts off the other children.

Now all he ever does

is sit in his room alone and read.

There's nothing wrong

with Howard loving to read.

It's the only reasonable trait

my nephew left his son.

Must be in the blood

because Winfield was never around.

His incredible curiosity

led to dark journeys.

Ever since he was a boy,

Winfield had a hunger for knowledge.

He was always reading, always exploring.

I don't think he ever

took the same road home twice.

There was always something more to know.

But it never occurred to me

such atoll that life took on him.

The stories that would come out of his

mouth grew from strange, to utter madness.

Until...

Well, we must deal with what's

in front of us, here and now.

But the worrying,

that he gets from you, Sarah.

He's my son, Mary.

And he gets sick so often.

What kind of mother would I be

if I didn't worry?

He's turned a corner, Sarah.

He's much healthier now than he was.

Things will turn out all

right in the end, dear.

Just give them a chance to.

Howard will be just fine.

You'll see.

I can't sleep.

I know today was difficult, sweetheart.

But you need to get some sleep.

You're a growing boy.

Your father loves you so much.

- Could you tell me a story?

- I'm not very good at telling stories.

- I have an idea.

- What is it?

This was your father's.

I wasn't sure when I was

gonna give it to you.

- It's a book.

- It's a journal.

He wrote it a long time ago,

back when he was well.

- Before his nervous exhaustion?

- Yes.

He told me how he wanted you to have it.

You're sure I can read this?

You can read it until you fall asleep,

if you like.

All right, Mother.

I love you, Howard.

Every inch of my soul cried out,

pleading with me to leave that place.

But I was powerless to leave,

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