WINMX Assorted Textfiles/Ebooks.tar/Text - Compilations - The Library - Volume 02 - D to L - 350 fiction ebooks (PDF HTM(L) RTF TXT DOC).zip/Lovecraft, H P - The Outsider.txt

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The OutsiderSpooked out



      The Outsider

      ⌐ by H. P. Lovecraft
      Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and
      sadness. Wretched is he who looks back upon lone hours in vast and dismal
      chambers with brown hangings and maddening rows of antique books, or upon
      awed watches in twilight groves of grotesque, gigantic, and
      vine-encumbered trees that silently wave twisted branches far aloft. Such
      a lot the gods gave to me - to me, the dazed, the disappointed; the
      barren, the broken. And yet I am strangely content and cling desperately
      to those sere memories, when my mind momentarily threatens to reach beyond
      to the other.
      I know not where I was born, save that the castle was infinitely old and
      infinitely horrible, full of dark passages and having high ceilings where
      the eye could find only cobwebs and shadows. The stones in the crumbling
      corridors seemed always hideously damp, and there was an accursed smell
      everywhere, as of the piled-up corpses of dead generations. It was never
      light, so that I used sometimes to light candles and gaze steadily at them
      for relief, nor was there any sun outdoors, since the terrible trees grew
      high above the topmost accessible tower. There was one black tower which
      reached above the trees into the unknown outer sky, but that was partly
      ruined and could not be ascended save by a well-nigh impossible climb up
      the sheer wall, stone by stone.
      I must have lived years in this place, but I cannot measure the time.
      Beings must have cared for my needs, yet I cannot recall any person except
      myself, or anything alive but the noiseless rats and bats and spiders. I
      think that whoever nursed me must have been shockingly aged, since my
      first conception of a living person was that of somebody mockingly like
      myself, yet distorted, shrivelled, and decaying like the castle. To me
      there was nothing grotesque in the bones and skeletons that strewed some
      of the stone crypts deep down among the foundations. I fantastically
      associated these things with everyday events, and thought them more
      natural than the coloured pictures of living beings which I found in many
      of the mouldy books. From such books I learned all that I know. No teacher
      urged or guided me, and I do not recall hearing any human voice in all
      those years - not even my own; for although I had read of speech, I had
      never thought to try to speak aloud. My aspect was a matter equally
      unthought of, for there were no mirrors in the castle, and I merely
      regarded myself by instinct as akin to the youthful figures I saw drawn
      and painted in the books. I felt conscious of youth because I remembered
      so little.
      Outside, across the putrid moat and under the dark mute trees, I would
      often lie and dream for hours about what I read in the books; and would
      longingly picture myself amidst gay crowds in the sunny world beyond the
      endless forests. Once I tried to escape from the forest, but as I went
      farther from the castle the shade grew denser and the air more filled with
      brooding fear; so that I ran frantically back lest I lose my way in a
      labyrinth of nighted silence.
      So through endless twilights I dreamed and waited, though I knew not what
      I waited for. Then in the shadowy solitude my longing for light grew so
      frantic that I could rest no more, and I lifted entreating hands to the
      single black ruined tower that reached above the forest into the unknown
      outer sky. And at last I resolved to scale that tower, fall though I
      might; since it were better to glimpse the sky and perish, than to live
      without ever beholding day.
      In the dank twilight I climbed the worn and aged stone stairs till I
      reached the level where they ceased, and thereafter clung perilously to
      small footholds leading upward. Ghastly and terrible was that dead,
      stairless cylinder of rock; black, ruined, and deserted, and sinister with
      startled bats whose wings made no noise. But more ghastly and terrible
      still was the slowness of my progress; for climb as I might, the darkness
      overhead grew no thinner, and a new chill as of haunted and venerable
      mould assailed me. I shivered as I wondered why I did not reach the light,
      and would have looked down had I dared. I fancied that night had come
      suddenly upon me, and vainly groped with one free hand for a window
      embrasure, that I might peer out and above, and try to judge the height I
      had once attained.
      All at once, after an infinity of awesome, sightless, crawling up that
      concave and desperate precipice, I felt my head touch a solid thing, and I
      knew I must have gained the roof, or at least some kind of floor. In the
      darkness I raised my free hand and tested the barrier, finding it stone
      and immovable. Then came a deadly circuit of the tower, clinging to
      whatever holds the slimy wall could give; till finally my testing hand
      found the barrier yielding, and I turned upward again, pushing the slab or
      door with my head as I used both hands in my fearful ascent. There was no
      light revealed above, and as my hands went higher I knew that my climb was
      for the nonce ended; since the slab was the trapdoor of an aperture
      leading to a level stone surface of greater circumference than the lower
      tower, no doubt the floor of some lofty and capacious observation chamber.
      I crawled through carefully, and tried to prevent the heavy slab from
      falling back into place, but failed in the latter attempt. As I lay
      exhausted on the stone floor I heard the eerie echoes of its fall, hoped
      when necessary to pry it up again.
      Believing I was now at prodigious height, far above the accursed branches
      of the wood, I dragged myself up from the floor and fumbled about for
      windows, that I might look for the first time upon the sky, and the moon
      and stars of which I had read. But on every hand I was disappointed; since
      all that I found were vast shelves of marble, bearing odious oblong boxes
      of disturbing size. More and more I reflected, and wondered what hoary
      secrets might abide in this high apartment so many aeons cut off from the
      castle below. Then unexpectedly my hands came upon a doorway, where hung a
      portal of stone, rough with strange chiselling. Trying it, I found it
      locked; but with a supreme burst of strength I overcame all obstacles and
      dragged it open inward. As I did so there came to me the purest ecstasy I
      have ever known; for shining tranquilly through an ornate grating of iron,
      and down a short stone passageway of steps that ascended from the newly
      found doorway, was the radiant full moon, which I had never before seen
      save in dreams and in vague visions I dared not call memories.
      Fancying now that I had attained the very pinnacle of the castle, I
      commenced to rush up the few steps beyond the door; but the sudden veiling
      of the moon by a cloud caused me to stumble, and I felt my way more slowly
      in the dark. It was still very dark when I reached the grating - which I
      tried carefully and found unlocked, but which I did not open for fear of
      falling from the amazing height to which I had climbed. Then the moon came
      out.
      Most demoniacal of all shocks is that of the abysmally unexpected and
      grotesquely unbelievable. Nothing I had before undergone could compare in
      terror with what I now saw; with the bizarre marvels that sight implied.
      The sight itself was as simple as it was stupefying, for it was merely
      this: instead of a dizzying prospect of treetops seen from a lofty
      eminence, there stretched around me on the level through the grating
      nothing less than the solid ground, decked and diversified by marble slabs
      and columns, and overshadowed by an ancient stone church, whose ruined
      spire gleamed spectrally in the moonlight.
      Half unconscious, I opened the grating and staggered out upon the white
      gravel path that stretched away in two directions. My mind, stunned and
      chaotic as it was, still held the frantic craving for light; and not even
      the fantastic wonder which had happened could stay my course. I neither
      knew nor cared whether my experience was insanity, dreaming, or magic; but
      was determined to gaze on brilliance and gaiety at any cost. I knew not
      who I was or what I was, or what my surroundings might be; though as I
      continued to stumble along I became conscious of a kind of fearsome latent
      memory that made my progress not wholly fortuitous. I passed under an arch
      out of that region of slabs and columns, and wandered through the open
      country; sometimes following the visible road, but sometimes leaving it
      curiously to tread across meadows where only occasional ruins bespoke the
      ancient presence of a forgotten road. Once I swam across a swift river
      where crumbling, mossy masonry told of a bridge long vanished.
      Over two hours must have passed before I reached what seemed to be my
      goal, a venerable ivied castle in a thickly wooded park, maddeningly
      familiar, yet full of perplexing strangeness to me. I saw that the moat
      was filled in, and that some of the well-known towers were demolished,
      whilst new wings existed to confuse the beholder. But what I observed with
      chief interest and delight were the open windows - gorgeously ablaze with
      light and sending forth sound of the gayest revelry. Advancing to one of
      these I looked in and saw an oddly dressed company indeed; making merry,
      and speaking brightly to one another. I had never, seemingly, heard human
      speech before and could guess only vaguely what was said. Some of the
      faces seemed to hold expressions that brought up incredibly remote
      recollections, others were utterly alien.
      I now stepped through the low window into the brilliantly lighted room,
      stepping as I did so from my single bright moment of hope to my blackest
      convulsion of despair and realization. The nightmare was quick to come,
      for as I entered, there occurred immediately one of the most terrifying
      demonstrations I had ever conceived. Scarcely had I crossed the sill when
      there descended upon the whole company a sudden and unheralded fear of
      hideous intensity, distorting every face and evoking the most horrible
      screams from nearly every throat. Flight was universal, and in the clamour
      and panic several fell in a swoon and were dragged away by their madly
      fleeing companions. Many covered their eyes with their hands, and plunged
      blindly and awkwardly in their race to escape, overturning furniture and
      stumbling against the walls before they managed to reach one of the many
      doors.
      The cries were shocking; and as I stood in the brilliant apartment alone
      and dazed, listening to their vanishing echoes, I trembled at the thought
      of what might be lurking near me unseen. At a casual inspection the room
      seemed deserted, but when I moved towards one of the alcoves I thought I
      detected a presence there - a hint of motion beyond the golden-arched
      doorway leading to another and somewhat similar room. As I approached the
      arch I began to perceive the presence more clearly; and then, with the
      first and last sound I ever uttered - a ghastly ululation that revolted me
      almost as poignantly as its noxious cause - I beheld in full, frightful
      vividness the inconceivable, indescribable, and unmentionable monstrosity
      which had by its simple appearance changed a merry company to a herd of
      delirious fugitives.
      I cannot even hint what it was like, for it was a compound of all that is
      unclean, uncanny, unwelcome, abnormal, and detestable. It was the ghoulish
      shade of decay, antiquity, and dissolution; the putrid, dripping eidolon
      of unwholesome revelation, the awful baring of that which the merciful
      earth should always hide. God knows it was not of this world - or no
      longer of this world - yet to my horror I saw in its eaten-away and
      bone-revealing outlines a leering, abhorrent travesty on the human shape;
      and in its mouldy, disintegrating apparel an unspeakable quality that
      chilled me even more.
      I was almost paralysed, but not too much so to make a feeble effort
      towards flight; a backward stumble which failed to break the spell in
      which the nameless, voiceless monster held me. My eyes bewitched by the
      glassy orbs which stared loathsomely into them, refused to close; though
      they were mercifully blurred, and showed the terrible object but
      indistinctly after the first shock. I tried to raise my hand to shut out
      the sight, yet so stunned were my nerves that my arm could not fully obey
      my will. The attempt, however, was enough to disturb my balance; so that I
      had to stagger forward several steps to avoid falling. As I did so I
      became suddenly and agonizingly aware of the nearness of the carrion
      thing, whose hideous hollow breathing I half fancied I could hear. Nearly
      mad, I found myself yet able to throw out a hand to ward of the foetid
      apparition which pressed so close; when in one cataclysmic second of
      cosmic nightmarishness and hellish accident my fingers touched the rotting
      outstretched paw of the monster beneath the golden arch.
      I did not shriek, but all the fiendish ghouls that ride the nightwind
      shrieked for me as in that same second there crashed down upon my mind a
      single fleeting avalanche of soul-annihilating memory. I knew in that
      second all that had been; I remembered beyond the frightful castle and the
      trees, and recognized the altered edifice in which I now stood; I
      recognized, most terrible of all, the unholy abomination that stood
      leering before me as I withdrew my sullied fingers from its own.
      But in the cosmos there is balm as well as bitterness, and that balm is
      nepenthe. In the supreme horror of that second I forgot what had horrified
      me, and the burst of black memory vanished in a chaos of echoing images.
      In a dream I fled from that haunted and accursed pile, and ran swiftly and
      silently in the moonlight. When I returned to the churchyard place of
      marble and went down the steps I found the stone trap-door immovable; but
      I was not sorry, for I had hated the antique castle and the trees. Now I
      ride with the mocking and friendly ghouls on the night-wind, and play by
      day amongst the catacombs of Nephren-Ka in the sealed and unknown valley
      of Hadoth by the Nile. I know that light is not for me, save that of the
      moon over the rock tombs of Neb, nor any gaiety save the unnamed feasts of
      Nitokris beneath the Great Pyramid; yet in my new wildness and freedom I
      almost welcome the bitterness of alienage.
      For although nepenthe has calmed me, I know always that I am an outsider;
      a stranger in this century and among those who are still men. This I have
      known ever since I stretched out my fingers to the abomination within that
      great gilded frame; stretched out my fingers and touched a cold and
      unyielding surface of polished glass.