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- Стр. 10/11
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Ammi
shewed
them
the
back
door
and
the
path
up
through
the
fields
to
the
ten-acre
pasture
.
They
walked
and
stumbled
as
in
a
dream
,
and
did
not
dare
look
back
till
they
were
far
away
on
the
high
ground
.
They
were
glad
of
the
path
,
for
they
could
not
have
gone
the
front
way
,
by
that
well
.
It
was
bad
enough
passing
the
glowing
barn
and
sheds
,
and
those
shining
orchard
trees
with
their
gnarled
,
fiendish
contours
;
but
thank
heaven
the
branches
did
their
worst
twisting
high
up
.
The
moon
went
under
some
very
black
clouds
as
they
crossed
the
rustic
bridge
over
Chapman
's
Brook
,
and
it
was
blind
groping
from
there
to
the
open
meadows
.
When
they
looked
back
toward
the
valley
and
the
distant
Gardner
place
at
the
bottom
they
saw
a
fearsome
sight
.
All
the
farm
was
shining
with
the
hideous
unknown
blend
of
colour
;
trees
,
buildings
,
and
even
such
grass
and
herbage
as
had
not
been
wholly
changed
to
lethal
grey
brittleness
.
The
boughs
were
all
straining
skyward
,
tipped
with
tongues
of
foul
flame
,
and
lambent
tricklings
of
the
same
monstrous
fire
were
creeping
about
the
ridgepoles
of
the
house
,
barn
,
and
sheds
.
It
was
a
scene
from
a
vision
of
Fuseli
,
and
over
all
the
rest
reigned
that
riot
of
luminous
amorphousness
,
that
alien
and
undimensioned
rainbow
of
cryptic
poison
from
the
well
--
seething
,
feeling
,
lapping
,
reaching
,
scintillating
,
straining
,
and
malignly
bubbling
in
its
cosmic
and
unrecognisable
chromaticism
.
Then
without
warning
the
hideous
thing
shot
vertically
up
toward
the
sky
like
a
rocket
or
meteor
,
leaving
behind
no
trail
and
disappearing
through
a
round
and
curiously
regular
hole
in
the
clouds
before
any
man
could
gasp
or
cry
out
.
No
watcher
can
ever
forget
that
sight
,
and
Ammi
stared
blankly
at
the
stars
of
Cygnus
,
Deneb
twinkling
above
the
others
,
where
the
unknown
colour
had
melted
into
the
Milky
Way
.
But
his
gaze
was
the
next
moment
called
swiftly
to
earth
by
the
crackling
in
the
valley
.
It
was
just
that
.
Only
a
wooden
ripping
and
crackling
,
and
not
an
explosion
,
as
so
many
others
of
the
party
vowed
.
Yet
the
outcome
was
the
same
,
for
in
one
feverish
,
kaleidoscopic
instant
there
burst
up
from
that
doomed
and
accursed
farm
a
gleamingly
eruptive
cataclysm
of
unnatural
sparks
and
substance
;
blurring
the
glance
of
the
few
who
saw
it
,
and
sending
forth
to
the
zenith
a
bombarding
cloudburst
of
such
coloured
and
fantastic
fragments
as
our
universe
must
needs
disown
.
Through
quickly
re-closing
vapours
they
followed
the
great
morbidity
that
had
vanished
,
and
in
another
second
they
had
vanished
too
.
Behind
and
below
was
only
a
darkness
to
which
the
men
dared
not
return
,
and
all
about
was
a
mounting
wind
which
seemed
to
sweep
down
in
black
,
frore
gusts
from
interstellar
space
.
It
shrieked
and
howled
,
and
lashed
the
fields
and
distorted
woods
in
a
mad
cosmic
frenzy
,
till
soon
the
trembling
party
realised
it
would
be
no
use
waiting
for
the
moon
to
shew
what
was
left
down
there
at
Nahum
's
.
Too
awed
even
to
hint
theories
,
the
seven
shaking
men
trudged
back
toward
Arkham
by
the
north
road
.
Ammi
was
worse
than
his
fellows
,
and
begged
them
to
see
him
inside
his
own
kitchen
,
instead
of
keeping
straight
on
to
town
.
He
did
not
wish
to
cross
the
nighted
,
wind-whipped
woods
alone
to
his
home
on
the
main
road
.
For
he
had
had
an
added
shock
that
the
others
were
spared
,
and
was
crushed
forever
with
a
brooding
fear
he
dared
not
even
mention
for
many
years
to
come
.
As
the
rest
of
the
watchers
on
that
tempestuous
hill
had
stolidly
set
their
faces
toward
the
road
,
Ammi
had
looked
back
an
instant
at
the
shadowed
valley
of
desolation
so
lately
sheltering
his
ill-starred
friend
.
And
from
that
stricken
,
far-away
spot
he
had
seen
something
feebly
rise
,
only
to
sink
down
again
upon
the
place
from
which
the
great
shapeless
horror
had
shot
into
the
sky
.
It
was
just
a
colour
--
but
not
any
colour
of
our
earth
or
heavens
.
And
because
Ammi
recognised
that
colour
,
and
knew
that
this
last
faint
remnant
must
still
lurk
down
there
in
the
well
,
he
has
never
been
quite
right
since
.
Ammi
would
never
go
near
the
place
again
.
It
is
over
half
a
century
now
since
the
horror
happened
,
but
he
has
never
been
there
,
and
will
be
glad
when
the
new
reservoir
blots
it
out
.
I
shall
be
glad
,
too
,
for
I
do
not
like
the
way
the
sunlight
changed
colour
around
the
mouth
of
that
abandoned
well
I
passed
.
I
hope
the
water
will
always
be
very
deep
--
but
even
so
,
I
shall
never
drink
it
.
I
do
not
think
I
shall
visit
the
Arkham
country
hereafter
.
Three
of
the
men
who
had
been
with
Ammi
returned
the
next
morning
to
see
the
ruins
by
daylight
,
but
there
were
not
any
real
ruins
.
Only
the
bricks
of
the
chimney
,
the
stones
of
the
cellar
,
some
mineral
and
metallic
litter
here
and
there
,
and
the
rim
of
that
nefandous
well
.
Save
for
Ammi
's
dead
horse
,
which
they
towed
away
and
buried
,
and
the
buggy
which
they
shortly
returned
to
him
,
everything
that
had
ever
been
living
had
gone
.
Five
eldritch
acres
of
dusty
grey
desert
remained
,
nor
has
anything
ever
grown
there
since
.
To
this
day
it
sprawls
open
to
the
sky
like
a
great
spot
eaten
by
acid
in
the
woods
and
fields
,
and
the
few
who
have
ever
dared
glimpse
it
in
spite
of
the
rural
tales
have
named
it
"
the
blasted
heath
"
.
The
rural
tales
are
queer
.
They
might
be
even
queerer
if
city
men
and
college
chemists
could
be
interested
enough
to
analyse
the
water
from
that
disused
well
,
or
the
grey
dust
that
no
wind
seems
ever
to
disperse
.
Botanists
,
too
,
ought
to
study
the
stunted
flora
on
the
borders
of
that
spot
,
for
they
might
shed
light
on
the
country
notion
that
the
blight
is
spreading
--
little
by
little
,
perhaps
an
inch
a
year
.
People
say
the
colour
of
the
neighbouring
herbage
is
not
quite
right
in
the
spring
,
and
that
wild
things
leave
queer
prints
in
the
light
winter
snow
.
Snow
never
seems
quite
so
heavy
on
the
blasted
heath
as
it
is
elsewhere
.
Horses
--
the
few
that
are
left
in
this
motor
age
--
grow
skittish
in
the
silent
valley
;
and
hunters
can
not
depend
on
their
dogs
too
near
the
splotch
of
greyish
dust
.
