Short Fiction - H. P. Lovecraft (i can read book club .TXT) š
- Author: H. P. Lovecraft
Book online Ā«Short Fiction - H. P. Lovecraft (i can read book club .TXT) šĀ». Author H. P. Lovecraft
Here he faltered, and seemed to shiver afresh with the fright that had sent him flying home. Mrs. Corey, unable to extract more information, began telephoning the neighbors; thus starting on its rounds the overture of panic that heralded the major terrors. When she got Sally Sawyer, housekeeper at Seth Bishopās, the nearest place to Whateleyās, it became her turn to listen instead of transmit; for Sallyās boy Chauncey, who slept poorly, had been up on the hill toward Whateleyās, and had dashed back in terror after one look at the place, and at the pasturage where Mr. Bishopās cows had been left out all night.
āYes, Misā Corey,ā came Sallyās tremulous voice over the party wire, āChaāncey he just come back a-post-inā, and couldnāt haff talk fer beinā scairt! He says Olā Whateleyās haouse is all blowed up, with the timbers scattered raound like theyād ben dynamite inside; only the bottom floor aināt through, but is all covered with a kind oā tarlike stuff that smells awful anā drips daown offen the aidges onto the graounā whar the side timbers is blowed away. Anā theyās awful kinder marks in the yard, tewā āgreat raound marks bigger raound than a hogshead, anā all sticky with stuff like is on the blowed-up haouse. Chaāncey he says they leads off into the medders, whar a great swath widerān a barn is matted daown, anā all the stun walls tumbled every which way wherever it goes.
āAnā he says, says he, Misā Corey, as haow he sot to look fer Sethās caows, frighted ez he was; anā faound āem in the upper pasture nigh the Devilās Hop Yard in an awful shape. Haff on āemās clean gone, anā nigh haff oā them thatās left is sucked most dry oā blood, with sores on āem like theyās ben on Whateleyās cattle ever senct Lavinnyās black brat was born. Seth heās gone aout naow to look at āem, though Iāll vaow he wunāt keer ter git very nigh Wizard Whateleyās! Chaāncey didnāt look keerful ter see whar the big matted-daown swath led arter it leff the pasturage, but he says he thinks it pāinted towards the glen rud to the village.
āI tell ye, Misā Corey, theyās suthinā abroad as hadnāt orter be abroad, anā I fer one think that black Wilbur Whateley, as come to the bad eend he desarved, is at the bottom of the breedinā of it. He waānāt all human hisself, I allus says to everybody; anā I think he anā Olā Whateley must a raised suthinā in that there nailed-up haouse as aināt even so human as he was. Theyās allus ben unseen things araound Dunwichā ālivinā thingsā āas aināt human anā aināt good fer human folks.
āThe graounā was aātalkinā lass night, anā towards morninā Chaāncey he heerd the whippoorwills so laoud in Colā Spring Glen he couldnāt sleep none. Then he thought he heerd another faintlike saound over towards Wizard Whateleyāsā āa kinder rippinā or tearinā oā wood, like some big box or crate was beinā opened fur off. What with this anā that, he didnāt git to sleep at all till sunup, anā no sooner was he up this morninā, but heās got to go over to Whateleyās anā see whatās the matter. He see enough, I tell ye, Misā Corey! This dunāt mean no good, anā I think as all the men-folks ought to git up a party anā do suthinā. I know suthinā awfulās abaout, anā feel my time is nigh, though only Gawd knows jest what it is.
āDid your Luther take accaount oā whar them big tracks led tew? No? Wal, Misā Corey, ef they was on the glen rud this side oā the glen, anā aināt got to your haouse yet, I calcālate they must go into the glen itself. They would do that. I allus says Colā Spring Glen aināt no healthy nor decent place. The whippoorwills anā fireflies there never did act like they was creaters oā Gawd, anā theyās them as says ye kin hear strange things a-rushinā anā a-talkinā in the air daown thar ef ye stand in the right place, atween the rock falls anā Bearās Den.ā
By that noon fully three-quarters of the men and boys of Dunwich were trooping over the roads and meadows between the new-made Whateley ruins and Cold Spring Glen; examining in horror the vast, monstrous prints, the maimed Bishop cattle, the strange, noisome wreck of the farmhouse, and the bruised, matted vegetation of the fields and roadsides. Whatever had burst loose upon the world had assuredly gone down into the great sinister ravine; for all the trees on the banks were bent and broken, and a great avenue had been gouged in the precipice-hanging underbrush. It was as though a house, launched by an avalanche, had slid down through the tangled growths of the almost vertical slope. From below no sound came, but only a distant, undefinable fetor; and it is not to be wondered at that the men preferred to stay on the edge and argue, rather than descend and beard the unknown Cyclopean horror in its lair. Three dogs that were with the party had barked furiously at first, but seemed cowed and reluctant when near the glen. Someone telephoned the news to the Aylesbury Transcript; but the editor, accustomed to wild tales from Dunwich, did no more than concoct a humorous paragraph about it; an item soon afterward reproduced by the Associated Press.
That night everyone went home, and every house and barn was barricaded as stoutly as possible. Needless to say, no cattle were allowed to remain in open pasturage. About two in the morning
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