The House on the Borderland (18 page)

Later, I came out upon the breadth of the enormous arena. There, at an
apparent distance of some five miles, stood the House, huge, monstrous
and silent—lying in the very center of that stupendous amphitheatre. So
far as I could see, it had not altered in any way; but looked as though
it were only yesterday that I had seen it. Around, the grim, dark
mountains frowned down upon me from their lofty silences.

Far to my right, away up among inaccessible peaks, loomed the enormous
bulk of the great Beast-god. Higher, I saw the hideous form of the dread
goddess, rising up through the red gloom, thousands of fathoms above
me. To the left, I made out the monstrous Eyeless-Thing, grey and
inscrutable. Further off, reclining on its lofty ledge, the livid
Ghoul-Shape showed—a splash of sinister color, among the dark
mountains.

Slowly, I moved out across the great arena—floating. As I went, I made
out the dim forms of many of the other lurking Horrors that peopled
those supreme heights.

Gradually, I neared the House, and my thoughts flashed back across the
abyss of years. I remembered the dread Specter of the Place. A short
while passed, and I saw that I was being wafted directly toward the
enormous mass of that silent building.

About this time, I became aware, in an indifferent sort of way, of a
growing sense of numbness, that robbed me of the fear, which I should
otherwise have felt, on approaching that awesome Pile. As it was, I
viewed it, calmly—much as a man views calamity through the haze of his
tobacco smoke.

In a little while, I had come so close to the House, as to be able to
distinguish many of the details about it. The longer I looked, the more
was I confirmed in my long-ago impressions of its entire similitude to
this strange house. Save in its enormous size, I could find
nothing unlike.

Suddenly, as I stared, a great feeling of amazement filled me. I had
come opposite to that part, where the outer door, leading into the
study, is situated. There, lying right across the threshold, lay a great
length of coping stone, identical—save in size and color—with the
piece I had dislodged in my fight with the Pit-creatures.

I floated nearer, and my astonishment increased, as I noted that the
door was broken partly from its hinges, precisely in the manner that my
study door had been forced inward, by the assaults of the Swine-things.
The sight started a train of thoughts, and I began to trace, dimly,
that the attack on this house, might have a far deeper significance than
I had, hitherto, imagined. I remembered how, long ago, in the old
earth-days, I had half suspected that, in some unexplainable manner,
this house, in which I live, was
en rapport
—to use a recognized
term—with that other tremendous structure, away in the midst of that
incomparable Plain.

Now, however, it began to be borne upon me, that I had but vaguely
conceived what the realization of my suspicion meant. I began to
understand, with a more than human clearness, that the attack I had
repelled, was, in some extraordinary manner, connected with an attack
upon that strange edifice.

With a curious inconsequence, my thoughts abruptly left the matter; to
dwell, wonderingly, upon the peculiar material, out of which the House
was constructed. It was—as I have mentioned, earlier—of a deep, green
color. Yet, now that I had come so close to it, I perceived that it
fluctuated at times, though slightly—glowing and fading, much as do the
fumes of phosphorus, when rubbed upon the hand, in the dark.

Presently, my attention was distracted from this, by coming to the
great entrance. Here, for the first time, I was afraid; for, all in a
moment, the huge doors swung back, and I drifted in between them,
helplessly. Inside, all was blackness, impalpable. In an instant, I had
crossed the threshold, and the great doors closed, silently, shutting me
in that lightless place.

For a while, I seemed to hang, motionless; suspended amid the darkness.
Then, I became conscious that I was moving again; where, I could not
tell. Suddenly, far down beneath me, I seemed to hear a murmurous noise
of Swine-laughter. It sank away, and the succeeding silence appeared
clogged with horror.

Then a door opened somewhere ahead; a white haze of light filtered
through, and I floated slowly into a room, that seemed strangely
familiar. All at once, there came a bewildering, screaming noise, that
deafened me. I saw a blurred vista of visions, flaming before my sight.
My senses were dazed, through the space of an eternal moment. Then, my
power of seeing, came back to me. The dizzy, hazy feeling passed, and I
saw, clearly.

I was seated in my chair, back again in this old study. My glance
wandered 'round the room. For a minute, it had a strange, quivery
appearance—unreal and unsubstantial. This disappeared, and I saw that
nothing was altered in any way. I looked toward the end window—the
blind was up.

I rose to my feet, shakily. As I did so, a slight noise, in the
direction of the door, attracted my attention. I glanced toward it. For
a short instant, it appeared to me that it was being closed, gently. I
stared, and saw that I must have been mistaken—it seemed closely shut.

With a succession of efforts, I trod my way to the window, and looked
out. The sun was just rising, lighting up the tangled wilderness of
gardens. For, perhaps, a minute, I stood, and stared. I passed my hand,
confusedly, across my forehead.

Presently, amid the chaos of my senses, a sudden thought came to me; I
turned, quickly, and called to Pepper. There was no answer, and I
stumbled across the room, in a quick access of fear. As I went, I tried
to frame his name; but my lips were numb. I reached the table, and
stooped down to him, with a catching at my heart. He was lying in the
shadow of the table, and I had not been able to see him, distinctly,
from the window. Now, as I stooped, I took my breath, shortly. There was
no Pepper; instead, I was reaching toward an elongated, little heap of
grey, ashlike dust....

I must have remained, in that half-stooped position, for some minutes.
I was dazed—stunned. Pepper had really passed into the land of shadows.

Pepper is dead! Even now, at times, I seem scarcely able to realize
that this is so. It is many weeks, since I came back from that strange
and terrible journey through space and time. Sometimes, in my sleep, I
dream about it, and go through, in imagination, the whole of that
fearsome happening. When I wake, my thoughts dwell upon it. That
Sun—those Suns, were they indeed the great Central Suns, 'round which
the whole universe, of the unknown heavens, revolves? Who shall say? And
the bright globules, floating forever in the light of the Green Sun! And
the Sea of Sleep on which they float! How unbelievable it all is. If it
were not for Pepper, I should, even after the many extraordinary things
that I have witnessed, be inclined to imagine that it was but a gigantic
dream. Then, there is that dreadful, dark nebula (with its multitudes of
red spheres) moving always within the shadow of the Dark Sun, sweeping
along on its stupendous orbit, wrapped eternally in gloom. And the faces
that peered out at me! God, do they, and does such a thing really
exist? ... There is still that little heap of grey ash, on my study
floor. I will not have it touched.

At times, when I am calmer, I have wondered what became of the outer
planets of the Solar System. It has occurred to me, that they may have
broken loose from the sun's attraction, and whirled away into space.
This is, of course, only a surmise. There are so many things, about
which I wonder.

Now that I am writing, let me record that I am certain, there is
something horrible about to happen. Last night, a thing occurred, which
has filled me with an even greater terror, than did the Pit fear. I will
write it down now, and, if anything more happens, endeavor to make a
note of it, at once. I have a feeling, that there is more in this last
affair, than in all those others. I am shaky and nervous, even now, as I
write. Somehow, I think death is not very far away. Not that I fear
death—as death is understood. Yet, there is that in the air, which bids
me fear—an intangible, cold horror. I felt it last night. It
was thus:—

Last night, I was sitting here in my study, writing. The door, leading
into the garden, was half open. At times, the metallic rattle of a dog's
chain, sounded faintly. It belongs to the dog I have bought, since
Pepper's death. I will not have him in the house—not after Pepper.
Still, I have felt it better to have a dog about the place. They are
wonderful creatures.

I was much engrossed in my work, and the time passed, quickly.
Suddenly, I heard a soft noise on the path, outside in the garden—pad,
pad, pad, it went, with a stealthy, curious sound. I sat upright, with a
quick movement, and looked out through the opened door. Again the noise
came—pad, pad, pad. It appeared to be approaching. With a slight
feeling of nervousness, I stared into the gardens; but the night hid
everything.

Then the dog gave a long howl, and I started. For a minute, perhaps, I
peered, intently; but could hear nothing. After a little, I picked up
the pen, which I had laid down, and recommenced my work. The nervous
feeling had gone; for I imagined that the sound I had heard, was nothing
more than the dog walking 'round his kennel, at the length of his chain.

A quarter of an hour may have passed; then, all at once, the dog howled
again, and with such a plaintively sorrowful note, that I jumped to my
feet, dropping my pen, and inking the page on which I was at work.

'Curse that dog!' I muttered, noting what I had done. Then, even as I
said the words, there sounded again that queer—pad, pad, pad. It was
horribly close—almost by the door, I thought. I knew, now, that it
could not be the dog; his chain would not allow him to come so near.

The dog's growl came again, and I noted, subconsciously, the taint of
fear in it.

Outside, on the windowsill, I could see Tip, my sister's pet cat. As I
looked, it sprang to its feet, its tail swelling, visibly. For an
instant it stood thus; seeming to stare, fixedly, at something, in the
direction of the door. Then, quickly, it began to back along the sill;
until, reaching the wall at the end, it could go no further. There it
stood, rigid, as though frozen in an attitude of extraordinary terror.

Frightened, and puzzled, I seized a stick from the corner, and went
toward the door, silently; taking one of the candles with me. I had come
to within a few paces of it, when, suddenly, a peculiar sense of fear
thrilled through me—a fear, palpitant and real; whence, I knew not, nor
why. So great was the feeling of terror, that I wasted no time; but
retreated straight-way—walking backward, and keeping my gaze,
fearfully, on the door. I would have given much, to rush at it, fling it
to, and shoot the bolts; for I have had it repaired and strengthened,
so that, now, it is far stronger than ever it has been. Like Tip, I
continued my, almost unconscious, progress backward, until the wall
brought me up. At that, I started, nervously, and glanced 'round,
apprehensively. As I did so, my eyes dwelt, momentarily, on the rack of
firearms, and I took a step toward them; but stopped, with a curious
feeling that they would be needless. Outside, in the gardens, the dog
moaned, strangely.

Suddenly, from the cat, there came a fierce, long screech. I glanced,
jerkily, in its direction—Something, luminous and ghostly, encircled
it, and grew upon my vision. It resolved into a glowing hand,
transparent, with a lambent, greenish flame flickering over it. The cat
gave a last, awful caterwaul, and I saw it smoke and blaze. My breath
came with a gasp, and I leant against the wall. Over that part of the
window there spread a smudge, green and fantastic. It hid the thing from
me, though the glare of fire shone through, dully. A stench of burning,
stole into the room.

Pad, pad, pad—Something passed down the garden path, and a faint,
mouldy odor seemed to come in through the open door, and mingle with the
burnt smell.

The dog had been silent for a few moments. Now, I heard him yowl,
sharply, as though in pain. Then, he was quiet, save for an occasional,
subdued whimper of fear.

A minute went by; then the gate on the West side of the gardens,
slammed, distantly. After that, nothing; not even the dog's whine.

I must have stood there some minutes. Then a fragment of courage stole
into my heart, and I made a frightened rush at the door, dashed it to,
and bolted it. After that, for a full half-hour, I sat,
helpless—staring before me, rigidly.

Slowly, my life came back into me, and I made my way, shakily,
up-stairs to bed.

That is all.

This morning, early, I went through the gardens; but found everything
as usual. Near the door, I examined the path, for footprints; yet, here
again, there was nothing to tell me whether, or not, I dreamed
last night.

It was only when I came to speak to the dog, that I discovered tangible
proof, that something did happen. When I went to his kennel, he kept
inside, crouching up in one corner, and I had to coax him, to get him
out. When, finally, he consented to come, it was in a strangely cowed
and subdued manner. As I patted him, my attention was attracted to a
greenish patch, on his left flank. On examining it, I found, that the
fur and skin had been apparently, burnt off; for the flesh showed, raw
and scorched. The shape of the mark was curious, reminding me of the
imprint of a large talon or hand.

I stood up, thoughtful. My gaze wandered toward the study window. The
rays of the rising sun, shimmered on the smoky patch in the lower
corner, causing it to fluctuate from green to red, oddly. Ah! that was
undoubtedly another proof; and, suddenly, the horrible Thing I saw last
night, rose in my mind. I looked at the dog, again. I knew the cause,
now, of that hateful looking wound on his side—I knew, also, that, what
I had seen last night, had been a real happening. And a great discomfort
filled me. Pepper! Tip! And now this poor animal ...! I glanced at the
dog again, and noticed that he was licking at his wound.