The House on the Borderland (4 page)

An idea came swiftly, and I turned, and glanced rapidly upward,
searching the gloomy crags, away to my left. Something loomed out under
a great peak, a shape of greyness. I wondered I had not seen it earlier,
and then remembered I had not yet viewed that portion. I saw it more
plainly now. It was, as I have said, grey. It had a tremendous head; but
no eyes. That part of its face was blank.

Now, I saw that there were other things up among the mountains. Further
off, reclining on a lofty ledge, I made out a livid mass, irregular and
ghoulish. It seemed without form, save for an unclean, half-animal face,
that looked out, vilely, from somewhere about its middle. And then I saw
others—there were hundreds of them. They seemed to grow out of the
shadows. Several I recognized almost immediately as mythological
deities; others were strange to me, utterly strange, beyond the power of
a human mind to conceive.

On each side, I looked, and saw more, continually. The mountains were
full of strange things—Beast-gods, and Horrors so atrocious and bestial
that possibility and decency deny any further attempt to describe them.
And I—I was filled with a terrible sense of overwhelming horror and
fear and repugnance; yet, spite of these, I wondered exceedingly. Was
there then, after all, something in the old heathen worship, something
more than the mere deifying of men, animals, and elements? The thought
gripped me—was there?

Later, a question repeated itself. What were they, those Beast-gods,
and the others? At first, they had appeared to me just sculptured
Monsters placed indiscriminately among the inaccessible peaks and
precipices of the surrounding mountains. Now, as I scrutinized them with
greater intentness, my mind began to reach out to fresh conclusions.
There was something about them, an indescribable sort of silent vitality
that suggested, to my broadening consciousness, a state of
life-in-death—a something that was by no means life, as we understand
it; but rather an inhuman form of existence, that well might be likened
to a deathless trance—a condition in which it was possible to imagine
their continuing, eternally. 'Immortal!' the word rose in my thoughts
unbidden; and, straightway, I grew to wondering whether this might be
the immortality of the gods.

And then, in the midst of my wondering and musing, something happened.
Until then, I had been staying just within the shadow of the exit of the
great rift. Now, without volition on my part, I drifted out of the
semi-darkness and began to move slowly across the arena—toward the
House. At this, I gave up all thoughts of those prodigious Shapes above
me—and could only stare, frightenedly, at the tremendous structure
toward which I was being conveyed so remorselessly. Yet, though I
searched earnestly, I could discover nothing that I had not already
seen, and so became gradually calmer.

Presently, I had reached a point more than halfway between the House
and the gorge. All around was spread the stark loneliness of the place,
and the unbroken silence. Steadily, I neared the great building. Then,
all at once, something caught my vision, something that came 'round one
of the huge buttresses of the House, and so into full view. It was a
gigantic thing, and moved with a curious lope, going almost upright,
after the manner of a man. It was quite unclothed, and had a remarkable
luminous appearance. Yet it was the face that attracted and frightened
me the most. It was the face of a swine.

Silently, intently, I watched this horrible creature, and forgot my
fear, momentarily, in my interest in its movements. It was making its
way, cumbrously 'round the building, stopping as it came to each window
to peer in and shake at the bars, with which—as in this house—they
were protected; and whenever it came to a door, it would push at it,
fingering the fastening stealthily. Evidently, it was searching for an
ingress into the House.

I had come now to within less than a quarter of a mile of the great
structure, and still I was compelled forward. Abruptly, the Thing turned
and gazed hideously in my direction. It opened its mouth, and, for the
first time, the stillness of that abominable place was broken, by a
deep, booming note that sent an added thrill of apprehension through me.
Then, immediately, I became aware that it was coming toward me, swiftly
and silently. In an instant, it had covered half the distance that lay
between. And still, I was borne helplessly to meet it. Only a hundred
yards, and the brutish ferocity of the giant face numbed me with a
feeling of unmitigated horror. I could have screamed, in the supremeness
of my fear; and then, in the very moment of my extremity and despair, I
became conscious that I was looking down upon the arena, from a rapidly
increasing height. I was rising, rising. In an inconceivably short
while, I had reached an altitude of many hundred feet. Beneath me, the
spot that I had just left, was occupied by the foul Swine-creature. It
had gone down on all fours and was snuffing and rooting, like a
veritable hog, at the surface of the arena. A moment and it rose to its
feet, clutching upward, with an expression of desire upon its face such
as I have never seen in this world.

Continually, I mounted higher. A few minutes, it seemed, and I had
risen above the great mountains—floating, alone, afar in the redness.
At a tremendous distance below, the arena showed, dimly; with the mighty
House looking no larger than a tiny spot of green. The Swine-thing was
no longer visible.

Presently, I passed over the mountains, out above the huge breadth of
the plain. Far away, on its surface, in the direction of the ring-shaped
sun, there showed a confused blur. I looked toward it, indifferently. It
reminded me, somewhat, of the first glimpse I had caught of the
mountain-amphitheatre.

With a sense of weariness, I glanced upward at the immense ring of
fire. What a strange thing it was! Then, as I stared, out from the dark
center, there spurted a sudden flare of extraordinary vivid fire.
Compared with the size of the black center, it was as naught; yet, in
itself, stupendous. With awakened interest, I watched it carefully,
noting its strange boiling and glowing. Then, in a moment, the whole
thing grew dim and unreal, and so passed out of sight. Much amazed, I
glanced down to the Plain from which I was still rising. Thus, I
received a fresh surprise. The Plain—everything had vanished, and only
a sea of red mist was spread far below me. Gradually as I stared this
grew remote, and died away into a dim far mystery of red against an
unfathomable night. A while, and even this had gone, and I was wrapped
in an impalpable, lightless gloom.

Thus I was, and only the memory that I had lived through the dark, once
before, served to sustain my thoughts. A great time passed—ages. And
then a single star broke its way through the darkness. It was the first
of one of the outlying clusters of this universe. Presently, it was far
behind, and all about me shone the splendor of the countless stars.
Later, years it seemed, I saw the sun, a clot of flame. Around it, I
made out presently several remote specks of light—the planets of the
Solar system. And so I saw the earth again, blue and unbelievably
minute. It grew larger, and became defined.

A long space of time came and went, and then at last I entered into the
shadow of the world—plunging headlong into the dim and holy earth
night. Overhead were the old constellations, and there was a crescent
moon. Then, as I neared the earth's surface, a dimness swept over me,
and I appeared to sink into a black mist.

For a while, I knew nothing. I was unconscious. Gradually, I became
aware of a faint, distant whining. It became plainer. A desperate
feeling of agony possessed me. I struggled madly for breath, and tried
to shout. A moment, and I got my breath more easily. I was conscious
that something was licking my hand. Something damp swept across my face.
I heard a panting, and then again the whining. It seemed to come to my
ears, now, with a sense of familiarity, and I opened my eyes. All was
dark; but the feeling of oppression had left me. I was seated, and
something was whining piteously, and licking me. I felt strangely
confused, and, instinctively, tried to ward off the thing that licked.
My head was curiously vacant, and, for the moment, I seemed incapable of
action or thought. Then, things came back to me, and I called 'Pepper,'
faintly. I was answered by a joyful bark, and renewed and
frantic caresses.

In a little while, I felt stronger, and put out my hand for the
matches. I groped about, for a few moments, blindly; then my hands lit
upon them, and I struck a light, and looked confusedly around. All about
me, I saw the old, familiar things. And there I sat, full of dazed
wonders, until the flame of the match burnt my finger, and I dropped it;
while a hasty expression of pain and anger, escaped my lips, surprising
me with the sound of my own voice.

After a moment, I struck another match, and, stumbling across the room,
lit the candles. As I did so, I observed that they had not burned away,
but had been put out.

As the flames shot up, I turned, and stared about the study; yet there
was nothing unusual to see; and, suddenly, a gust of irritation took me.
What had happened? I held my head, with both hands, and tried to
remember. Ah! the great, silent Plain, and the ring-shaped sun of red
fire. Where were they? Where had I seen them? How long ago? I felt dazed
and muddled. Once or twice, I walked up and down the room, unsteadily.
My memory seemed dulled, and, already, the thing I had witnessed came
back to me with an effort.

I have a remembrance of cursing, peevishly, in my bewilderment.
Suddenly, I turned faint and giddy, and had to grasp at the table for
support. During a few moments, I held on, weakly; and then managed to
totter sideways into a chair. After a little time, I felt somewhat
better, and succeeded in reaching the cupboard where, usually, I keep
brandy and biscuits. I poured myself out a little of the stimulant, and
drank it off. Then, taking a handful of biscuits, I returned to my
chair, and began to devour them, ravenously. I was vaguely surprised at
my hunger. I felt as though I had eaten nothing for an uncountably
long while.

As I ate, my glance roved about the room, taking in its various
details, and still searching, though almost unconsciously, for something
tangible upon which to take hold, among the invisible mysteries that
encompassed me. 'Surely,' I thought, 'there must be something—' And, in
the same instant, my gaze dwelt upon the face of the clock in the
opposite corner. Therewith, I stopped eating, and just stared. For,
though its ticking indicated most certainly that it was still going, the
hands were pointing to a little
before
the hour of midnight; whereas
it was, as well I knew, considerably
after
that time when I had
witnessed the first of the strange happenings I have just described.

For perhaps a moment I was astounded and puzzled. Had the hour been the
same as when I had last seen the clock, I should have concluded that the
hands had stuck in one place, while the internal mechanism went on as
usual; but that would, in no way, account for the hands having traveled
backward. Then, even as I turned the matter over in my wearied brain,
the thought flashed upon me that it was now close upon the morning of
the twenty-second, and that I had been unconscious to the visible world
through the greater portion of the last twenty-four hours. The thought
occupied my attention for a full minute; then I commenced to eat again.
I was still very hungry.

During breakfast, next morning, I inquired casually of my sister
regarding the date, and found my surmise correct. I had, indeed, been
absent—at least in spirit—for nearly a day and a night.

My sister asked me no questions; for it is not by any means the first
time that I have kept to my study for a whole day, and sometimes a
couple of days at a time, when I have been particularly engrossed in my
books or work.

And so the days pass on, and I am still filled with a wonder to know
the meaning of all that I saw on that memorable night. Yet, well I know
that my curiosity is little likely to be satisfied.

This house is, as I have said before, surrounded by a huge estate, and
wild and uncultivated gardens.

Away at the back, distant some three hundred yards, is a dark, deep
ravine—spoken of as the 'Pit,' by the peasantry. At the bottom runs a
sluggish stream so overhung by trees as scarcely to be seen from above.

In passing, I must explain that this river has a subterranean origin,
emerging suddenly at the East end of the ravine, and disappearing, as
abruptly, beneath the cliffs that form its Western extremity.

It was some months after my vision (if vision it were) of the great
Plain that my attention was particularly attracted to the Pit.

I happened, one day, to be walking along its Southern edge, when,
suddenly, several pieces of rock and shale were dislodged from the face
of the cliff immediately beneath me, and fell with a sullen crash
through the trees. I heard them splash in the river at the bottom; and
then silence. I should not have given this incident more than a passing
thought, had not Pepper at once begun to bark savagely; nor would he be
silent when I bade him, which is most unusual behavior on his part.

Feeling that there must be someone or something in the Pit, I went back
to the house, quickly, for a stick. When I returned, Pepper had ceased
his barks and was growling and smelling, uneasily, along the top.

Whistling to him to follow me, I started to descend cautiously. The
depth to the bottom of the Pit must be about a hundred and fifty feet,
and some time as well as considerable care was expended before we
reached the bottom in safety.