Eldritch Tales (7 page)

Having readjusted my aim, I discharged my second missile, this time most effectively, for with a flood of joy I listened as the creature fell in what sounded like a complete collapse and evidently remained prone and unmoving. Almost overpowered by the great relief which rushed over me, I reeled back against the wall. The breathing continued, in heavy, gasping inhalations and expirations, whence I realised that I had no more than wounded the creature. And now all desire to examine the
thing
ceased. At last something allied to groundless, superstitious fear had entered my brain, and I did not approach the body, nor did I continue to cast stones at it in order to complete the extinction of its life. Instead, I ran at full speed in what was, as nearly as I could estimate in my frenzied condition, the direction from which I had come. Suddenly I heard a sound or rather, a regular succession of sounds. In another instant they had resolved themselves into a series of sharp, metallic clicks. This time there was no doubt.
It was the guide
. And then I shouted, yelled, screamed, even shrieked with joy as I beheld in the vaulted arches above the faint and glimmering effulgence which I knew to be the reflected light of an approaching torch. I ran to meet the flare, and before I could completely understand what had occurred, was lying upon the ground at the feet of the guide, embracing his boots and gibbering, despite my boasted reserve, in a most meaningless and idiotic manner, pouring out my terrible story, and at the same time overwhelming my auditor with protestations of gratitude. At length, I awoke to something like my normal consciousness. The guide had noted my absence upon the arrival of the party at the entrance of the cave, and had, from his own intuitive sense of direction, proceeded to make a thorough canvass of by-passages just ahead of where he had last spoken to me, locating my whereabouts after a quest of about four hours.

By the time he had related this to me, I, emboldened by his torch and his company, began to reflect upon the strange beast which I had wounded but a short distance back in the darkness, and suggested that we ascertain, by the flashlight’s aid, what manner of creature was my victim. Accordingly I retraced my steps, this time with a courage born of companionship, to the scene of my terrible experience. Soon we descried a white object upon the floor, an object whiter even than the gleaming limestone itself. Cautiously advancing, we gave vent to a simultaneous ejaculation of wonderment, for of all the unnatural monsters either of us had in our lifetimes beheld, this was in surpassing degree the strangest. It appeared to be an anthropoid ape of large proportions, escaped, perhaps, from some itinerant menagerie. Its hair was snow-white, a thing due no doubt to the bleaching action of a long existence within the inky confines of the cave, but it was also surprisingly thin, being indeed largely absent save on the head, where it was of such length and abundance that it fell over the shoulders in considerable profusion. The face was turned away from us, as the creature lay almost directly upon it. The inclination of the limbs was very singular, explaining, however, the alternation in their use which I had before noted, whereby the beast used sometimes all four, and on other occasions but two for its progress. From the tips of the fingers or toes, long rat-like claws extended. The hands or feet were not prehensile, a fact that I ascribed to that long residence in the cave which, as I before mentioned, seemed evident from the all-pervading and almost unearthly whiteness so characteristic of the whole anatomy. No tail seemed to be present.

The respiration had now grown very feeble, and the guide had drawn his pistol with the evident intent of despatching the creature, when a sudden
sound
emitted by the latter caused the weapon to fall unused. The sound was of a nature difficult to describe. It was not like the normal note of any known species of simian, and I wonder if this unnatural quality were not the result of a long continued and complete silence, broken by the sensations produced by the advent of the light, a thing which the beast could not have seen since its first entrance into the cave. The sound, which I might feebly attempt to classify as a kind of deep-tone chattering, was faintly continued.

All at once a fleeting spasm of energy seemed to pass through the frame of the beast. The paws went through a convulsive motion, and the limbs contracted. With a jerk, the white body rolled over so that its face was turned in our direction. For a moment I was so struck with horror at the eyes thus revealed that I noted nothing else. They were black, those eyes, deep jetty black, in hideous contrast to the snow-white hair and flesh. Like those of other cave denizens, they were deeply sunken in their orbits, and were entirely destitute of iris. As I looked more closely, I saw that they were set in a face less prognathous than that of the average ape, and infinitely less hairy. The nose was quite distinct. As we gazed upon the uncanny sight presented to our vision, the thick lips opened, and several
sounds
issued from them, after which the
thing
relaxed in death.

The guide clutched my coat sleeve and trembled so violently that the light shook fitfully, casting weird moving shadows on the walls.

I made no motion, but stood rigidly still, my horrified eyes fixed upon the floor ahead.

The fear left, and wonder, awe, compassion, and reverence succeeded in its place, for the
sounds
uttered by the stricken figure that lay stretched out on the limestone had told us the awesome truth. The creature I had killed, the strange beast of the unfathomed cave, was, or had at one time been a
MAN!!!

THE POE-ET’S NIGHTMARE

Luxus tumultus semper causa est.

And connoisseur of rarebits and mince pies,

A bard by choice, a grocer’s clerk by trade,

(Grown pessimist thro’ honours long delay’d),

A secret yearning bore, that he might shine

In breathing numbers, and in song divine.

Each day his fountain pen was wont to drop

An ode or dirge or two about the shop,

Yet naught could strike the chord within his heart

That throbb’d for poesy, and cry’d for art.

Each eve he sought his bashful Muse to wake

With overdoses of ice-cream and cake;

But thou’ th’ ambitious youth a dreamer grew,

Th’ Aonian Nymph declin’d to come to view.

Sometimes at dusk he scour’d the heav’ns afar,

Searching for raptures in the evening star;

One night he strove to catch a tale untold

In crystal deeps – but only caught a cold.

So pin’d Lucullus with his lofty woe,

Till one drear day he bought a set of Poe:

Charm’d with the cheerful horrors there display’d,

He vow’d with gloom to woo the Heav’nly Maid.

Of Auber’s tarn and Yaanek’s slope he dreams,

And weaves an hundred Ravens in his schemes.

Not far from our young hero’s peaceful home

Lies the fair grove wherein he loves to roam.

Tho’ but a stunted copse in vacant lot,

He dubs it Tempe, and adores the spot;

When shallow puddles dot the wooded plain,

And brim o’er muddy banks with muddy rain,

He calls them limpid lakes or poison pools

(Depending on which bard his fancy rules).

’Tis here he comes with Heliconian fire

On Sundays when he smites the Attic lyre;

And here one afternoon he brought his gloom,

Resolv’d to chant a poet’s lay of doom.

Roget’s Thesaurus, and a book of rhymes,

Provide the rungs whereon his spirit climbs:

With this grave retinue he trod the grove

And pray’d the Fauns he might a Poe-et prove.

But sad to tell, ere Pegasus flew high,

The not unrelish’d supper hour drew nigh;

Our tuneful swain th’ imperious call attends,

And soon above the groaning table bends.

Tho’ it were too prosaic to relate

Th’ exact particulars of what he ate

(Such long-drawn lists the hasty reader skips,

Like Homer’s well-known catalogue of ships),

This much we swear: that as adjournment near’d,

A monstrous lot of cake had disappear’d!

Soon to his chamber the young bard repairs,

And courts soft Somnus with sweet Lydian airs;

Thro’ open casement scans the star-strown deep,

And ’neath Orion’s beams sinks off to sleep.

Now start from airy dell the elfin train

That dance each midnight o’er the sleeping plain,

To bless the just, or cast a warning spell

On those who dine not wisely, but too well.

First Deacon Smith they plague, whose nasal glow

Comes from what Holmes hath call’d ‘Elixir Pro’;

Group’d round the couch his visage they deride,

Whilst thro’ his dreams unnumber’d serpents glide.

Next troop the little folk into the room

Where snores our young Endymion, swath’d in gloom:

A smile lights up his boyish face, whilst he

Dreams of the moon – or what he ate at tea.

The chieftain elf th’ unconscious youth surveys,

And on his form a strange enchantment lays:

Those lips, that lately thrill’d with frosted cake,

Uneasy sounds in slumbrous fashion make;

At length their owner’s fancies they rehearse,

And lisp this awesome Poe-em in blank verse:

Omnia risus et omnia pulvis et omnia nihil.

Of soundless heav’n, smother’d the brooding night;

Nor came the wonted whisp’rings of the swamp,

Nor voice of autumn wind along the moor,

Nor mutter’d noises of th’ insomnious grove

Whose black recesses never saw the sun.

Within that grove a hideous hollow lies,

Half bare of trees; a pool in centre lurks

That none dares sound; a tarn of murky face

(Tho’ naught can prove its hue, since light of day,

Affrighted, shuns the forest-shadow’d banks).

Hard by, a yawning hillside grotto breathes,

From deeps unvisited, a dull, dank air

That sears the leaves on certain stunted trees

Which stand about, clawing the spectral gloom

With evil boughs. To this accursed dell

Come woodland creatures, seldom to depart:

Once I behold, upon a crumbling stone

Set altar-like before the cave, a thing

I saw not clearly, yet from glimpsing, fled.