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- Говард Лавкрафт
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- Цвет из иных миров
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- Стр. 11/11
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They
say
the
mental
influences
are
very
bad
,
too
.
Numbers
went
queer
in
the
years
after
Nahum
's
taking
,
and
always
they
lacked
the
power
to
get
away
.
Then
the
stronger-minded
folk
all
left
the
region
,
and
only
the
foreigners
tried
to
live
in
the
crumbling
old
homesteads
.
They
could
not
stay
,
though
;
and
one
sometimes
wonders
what
insight
beyond
ours
their
wild
,
weird
stores
of
whispered
magic
have
given
them
.
Their
dreams
at
night
,
they
protest
,
are
very
horrible
in
that
grotesque
country
;
and
surely
the
very
look
of
the
dark
realm
is
enough
to
stir
a
morbid
fancy
.
No
traveller
has
ever
escaped
a
sense
of
strangeness
in
those
deep
ravines
,
and
artists
shiver
as
they
paint
thick
woods
whose
mystery
is
as
much
of
the
spirit
as
of
the
eye
.
I
myself
am
curious
about
the
sensation
I
derived
from
my
one
lone
walk
before
Ammi
told
me
his
tale
.
When
twilight
came
I
had
vaguely
wished
some
clouds
would
gather
,
for
an
odd
timidity
about
the
deep
skyey
voids
above
had
crept
into
my
soul
.
Do
not
ask
me
for
my
opinion
.
I
do
not
know
--
that
is
all
.
There
was
no
one
but
Ammi
to
question
;
for
Arkham
people
will
not
talk
about
the
strange
days
,
and
all
three
professors
who
saw
the
aërolite
and
its
coloured
globule
are
dead
.
There
were
other
globules
--
depend
upon
that
.
One
must
have
fed
itself
and
escaped
,
and
probably
there
was
another
which
was
too
late
.
No
doubt
it
is
still
down
the
well
--
I
know
there
was
something
wrong
with
the
sunlight
I
saw
above
that
miasmal
brink
.
The
rustics
say
the
blight
creeps
an
inch
a
year
,
so
perhaps
there
is
a
kind
of
growth
or
nourishment
even
now
.
But
whatever
daemon
hatchling
is
there
,
it
must
be
tethered
to
something
or
else
it
would
quickly
spread
.
Is
it
fastened
to
the
roots
of
those
trees
that
claw
the
air
?
One
of
the
current
Arkham
tales
is
about
fat
oaks
that
shine
and
move
as
they
ought
not
to
do
at
night
.
What
it
is
,
only
God
knows
.
In
terms
of
matter
I
suppose
the
thing
Ammi
described
would
be
called
a
gas
,
but
this
gas
obeyed
laws
that
are
not
of
our
cosmos
.
This
was
no
fruit
of
such
worlds
and
suns
as
shine
on
the
telescopes
and
photographic
plates
of
our
observatories
.
This
was
no
breath
from
the
skies
whose
motions
and
dimensions
our
astronomers
measure
or
deem
too
vast
to
measure
It
was
just
a
colour
out
of
space
--
a
frightful
messenger
from
unformed
realms
of
infinity
beyond
all
Nature
as
we
know
it
;
from
realms
whose
mere
existence
stuns
the
brain
and
numbs
us
with
the
black
extra-cosmic
gulfs
it
throws
open
before
our
frenzied
eyes
.
I
doubt
very
much
if
Ammi
consciously
lied
to
me
,
and
I
do
not
think
his
tale
was
all
a
freak
of
madness
as
the
townfolk
had
forewarned
.
Something
terrible
came
to
the
hills
and
valleys
on
that
meteor
,
and
something
terrible
--
though
I
know
not
in
what
proportion
--
still
remains
.
I
shall
be
glad
to
see
the
water
come
.
Meanwhile
I
hope
nothing
will
happen
to
Ammi
.
He
saw
so
much
of
the
thing
--
and
its
influence
was
so
insidious
.
Why
has
he
never
been
able
to
move
away
?
How
clearly
he
recalled
those
dying
words
of
Nahum
's
--
"
ca
n't
git
away
...
draws
ye
...
ye
know
summ
'
at
's
comin
'
,
but
'
tai
n't
no
use
...
"
Ammi
is
such
a
good
old
man
--
when
the
reservoir
gang
gets
to
work
I
must
write
the
chief
engineer
to
keep
a
sharp
watch
on
him
.
I
would
hate
to
think
of
him
as
the
grey
,
twisted
,
brittle
monstrosity
which
persists
more
and
more
in
troubling
my
sleep
.