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- Говард Лавкрафт
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- Зов Ктулху
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- Стр. 12/13
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Briden
pushed
at
the
stone
in
several
places
without
result
.
Then
Donovan
felt
over
it
delicately
around
the
edge
,
pressing
each
point
separately
as
he
went
.
He
climbed
interminably
along
the
grotesque
stone
moulding
--
that
is
,
one
would
call
it
climbing
if
the
thing
was
not
after
all
horizontal
--
and
the
men
wondered
how
any
door
in
the
universe
could
be
so
vast
.
Then
,
very
softly
and
slowly
,
the
acre-great
panel
began
to
give
inward
at
the
top
;
and
they
saw
that
it
was
balanced
.
Donovan
slid
or
somehow
propelled
himself
down
or
along
the
jamb
and
rejoined
his
fellows
,
and
everyone
watched
the
queer
recession
of
the
monstrously
carven
portal
.
In
this
phantasy
of
prismatic
distortion
it
moved
anomalously
in
a
diagonal
way
,
so
that
all
the
rules
of
matter
and
perspective
seemed
upset
.
The
aperture
was
black
with
a
darkness
almost
material
.
That
tenebrousness
was
indeed
a
positive
quality
;
for
it
obscured
such
parts
of
the
inner
walls
as
ought
to
have
been
revealed
,
and
actually
burst
forth
like
smoke
from
its
aeon-long
imprisonment
,
visibly
darkening
the
sun
as
it
slunk
away
into
the
shrunken
and
gibbous
sky
on
flapping
membraneous
wings
.
The
odour
rising
from
the
newly
opened
depths
was
intolerable
,
and
at
length
the
quick-eared
Hawkins
thought
he
heard
a
nasty
,
slopping
sound
down
there
.
Everyone
listened
,
and
everyone
was
listening
still
when
It
lumbered
slobberingly
into
sight
and
gropingly
squeezed
Its
gelatinous
green
immensity
through
the
black
doorway
into
the
tainted
outside
air
of
that
poison
city
of
madness
.
Poor
Johansen
's
handwriting
almost
gave
out
when
he
wrote
of
this
.
Of
the
six
men
who
never
reached
the
ship
,
he
thinks
two
perished
of
pure
fright
in
that
accursed
instant
.
The
Thing
can
not
be
described
--
there
is
no
language
for
such
abysms
of
shrieking
and
immemorial
lunacy
,
such
eldritch
contradictions
of
all
matter
,
force
,
and
cosmic
order
.
A
mountain
walked
or
stumbled
.
God
!
What
wonder
that
across
the
earth
a
great
architect
went
mad
,
and
poor
Wilcox
raved
with
fever
in
that
telepathic
instant
?
The
Thing
of
the
idols
,
the
green
,
sticky
spawn
of
the
stars
,
had
awaked
to
claim
his
own
.
The
stars
were
right
again
,
and
what
an
age-old
cult
had
failed
to
do
by
design
,
a
band
of
innocent
sailors
had
done
by
accident
.
After
vigintillions
of
years
great
Cthulhu
was
loose
again
,
and
ravening
for
delight
.
Three
men
were
swept
up
by
the
flabby
claws
before
anybody
turned
.
God
rest
them
,
if
there
be
any
rest
in
the
universe
.
They
were
Donovan
,
Guerrera
,
and
˚Angstrom
.
Parker
slipped
as
the
other
three
were
plunging
frenziedly
over
endless
vistas
of
green-crusted
rock
to
the
boat
,
and
Johansen
swears
he
was
swallowed
up
by
an
angle
of
masonry
which
should
n't
have
been
there
;
an
angle
which
was
acute
,
but
behaved
as
if
it
were
obtuse
.
So
only
Briden
and
Johansen
reached
the
boat
,
and
pulled
desperately
for
the
Alert
as
the
mountainous
monstrosity
flopped
down
the
slimy
stones
and
hesitated
floundering
at
the
edge
of
the
water
.
Steam
had
not
been
suffered
to
go
down
entirely
,
despite
the
departure
of
all
hands
for
the
shore
;
and
it
was
the
work
of
only
a
few
moments
of
feverish
rushing
up
and
down
between
wheel
and
engines
to
get
the
Alert
under
way
.
Slowly
,
amidst
the
distorted
horrors
of
that
indescribable
scene
,
she
began
to
churn
the
lethal
waters
;
whilst
on
the
masonry
of
that
charnel
shore
that
was
not
of
earth
the
titan
Thing
from
the
stars
slavered
and
gibbered
like
Polypheme
cursing
the
fleeing
ship
of
Odysseus
.
Then
,
bolder
than
the
storied
Cyclops
,
great
Cthulhu
slid
greasily
into
the
water
and
began
to
pursue
with
vast
wave-raising
strokes
of
cosmic
potency
.
Briden
looked
back
and
went
mad
,
laughing
shrilly
as
he
kept
on
laughing
at
intervals
till
death
found
him
one
night
in
the
cabin
whilst
Johansen
was
wandering
deliriously
.
But
Johansen
had
not
given
out
yet
.
Knowing
that
the
Thing
could
surely
overtake
the
Alert
until
steam
was
fully
up
,
he
resolved
on
a
desperate
chance
;
and
,
setting
the
engine
for
full
speed
,
ran
lightning-like
on
deck
and
reversed
the
wheel
.
There
was
a
mighty
eddying
and
foaming
in
the
noisome
brine
,
and
as
the
steam
mounted
higher
and
higher
the
brave
Norwegian
drove
his
vessel
head
on
against
the
pursuing
jelly
which
rose
above
the
unclean
froth
like
the
stern
of
a
daemon
galleon
.
The
awful
squidhead
with
writhing
feelers
came
nearly
up
to
the
bowsprit
of
the
sturdy
yacht
,
but
Johansen
drove
on
relentlessly
.
There
was
a
bursting
as
of
an
exploding
bladder
,
a
slushy
nastiness
as
of
a
cloven
sunfish
,
a
stench
as
of
a
thousand
opened
graves
,
and
a
sound
that
the
chronicler
could
not
put
on
paper
.
For
an
instant
the
ship
was
befouled
by
an
acrid
and
blinding
green
cloud
,
and
then
there
was
only
a
venomous
seething
astern
;
where
--
God
in
heaven
!
--
the
scattered
plasticity
of
that
nameless
sky-spawn
was
nebulously
recombining
in
its
hateful
original
form
,
whilst
its
distance
widened
every
second
as
the
Alert
gained
impetus
from
its
mounting
steam
.
That
was
all
.
After
that
Johansen
only
brooded
over
the
idol
in
the
cabin
and
attended
to
a
few
matters
of
food
for
himself
and
the
laughing
maniac
by
his
side
.
He
did
not
try
to
navigate
after
the
first
bold
flight
,
for
the
reaction
had
taken
something
out
of
his
soul
.
Then
came
the
storm
of
April
2nd
,
and
a
gathering
of
the
clouds
about
his
consciousness
.
There
is
a
sense
of
spectral
whirling
through
liquid
gulfs
of
infinity
,
of
dizzying
rides
through
reeling
universes
on
a
comet
's
tail
,
and
of
hysterical
plunges
from
the
pit
to
the
moon
and
from
the
moon
back
again
to
the
pit
,
all
livened
by
a
cachinnating
chorus
of
the
distorted
,
hilarious
elder
gods
and
the
green
,
bat-winged
mocking
imps
of
Tartarus
.
Out
of
that
dream
came
rescue
--
the
Vigilant
,
the
vice-admiralty
court
,
the
streets
of
Dunedin
,
and
the
long
voyage
back
home
to
the
old
house
by
the
Egeberg
.
He
could
not
tell
--
they
would
think
him
mad
.
He
would
write
of
what
he
knew
before
death
came
,
but
his
wife
must
not
guess
.
Death
would
be
a
boon
if
only
it
could
blot
out
the
memories
.
That
was
the
document
I
read
,
and
now
I
have
placed
it
in
the
tin
box
beside
the
bas-relief
and
the
papers
of
Professor
Angell
.
With
it
shall
go
this
record
of
mine
--
this
test
of
my
own
sanity
,
wherein
is
pieced
together
that
which
I
hope
may
never
be
pieced
together
again
.
I
have
looked
upon
all
that
the
universe
has
to
hold
of
horror
,
and
even
the
skies
of
spring
and
the
flowers
of
summer
must
ever
afterward
be
poison
to
me
.
But
I
do
not
think
my
life
will
be
long
.
As
my
uncle
went
,
as
poor
Johansen
went
,
so
I
shall
go
.
I
know
too
much
,
and
the
cult
still
lives
.
