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Acolyte, v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 5, Fall 1943
Page 17
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small clumps of bushes and trees as best I could. It wasn't until I was almost at the graveyard that I remembered--suddenly, disturbingly--something Eb Corey had said; about the youngest Munroe boy who had been playing in the ravine, and had run home to tell his mother he'd seen his lost brother's face, "with a lot of others". At the thought of it, I hurried my steps. I cut across a corner of the graveyard into the house. Looking up at the window of the rear room, I saw no light there. Thinking Bruce must be asleep, I went around the house, entered the front door a bit breathlessly, and hurried upstairs. I had intended to waken Bruce, if necessary, to tell him of Lyle Wilson's nocturnal excursion, for it might mean something to him. I pushed open the door and entered his room, and moved through the darkness to the table and the dimly-seen oil lamp. I searched in my picket for a match, while with the other hand I fumbled for the lamp. "Damn!" My searching fingers had found the lamp all right, and i had burned them on the still hot glass chimney. Bruce must have turned it off no more than a few minutes before. I finally managed to light it again, and as the shadows flickered about the room, I saw that Bruce wasn't there at all, nor had his bed been slept in. Perhaps he had stepped out for a breath of air. On the table one of the heavy tomes lay open, which I recognized as Monstres and Their Kynde. Beside it was a soft-leaded pencil. Then I noticed that Bruce apparently had been checking certain passages with the pencil, very lightly on the crisp yellowish pages. I decide to wait for him, so drew up a chair and began to read those passages which Bruce had so painstakingly marked. Now, after twelve years, I cannot precisely remember those excerpts; but I do know they were in a quaint old English spelling, the first paragraph to strike my eye was almost as follows: "These be nott manifest, but They do wait in patience for a tyme that ys nott yet. Of a hydeous potency be ye blackness wherein They dwell, for They do nott always sleep. They be remote one from another; nonetheless They do have a devious yntercourse. Beneath that far Northe, in ye ancient tymes yclept Hyperborea, do They wait. Afar in ye East, beneath vaste plateaus, They be rumoured. In ye new darke lande across ye seas They surely be. Men of ye sea have whispered of unspeakable manifestations on strange Islands. Indeede there be fearfulle rumour of ye fate of men who go down with doomed shippes. These Creatures be nameless, but assuredly must They be spawned of ancient B'Moth and Ftakhar, Lloigor and Kathuln and ye others. In silence do They await ye call of these Elder Ones...." I stopped reading there, aware that this all sounded vaguely familiar. I must have read similar things in other old books of Bruce's. I turned a few pages to see if he had checked other passages. He had. "Some mortals there do be who revere Them, and some fewe also whom They instruct in a certain wyse. One of these was ye Eybon of that ancient Hyperborea, and there have been others." Suddenly startled, I remembered old Zickler sitting at that very window talking a sort of gibberish to something in the tomb, which he hinted had answered him. Now I read on, suddenly eager, seeking out those passages which Bruce had marked: "There be divers ways, mostly forgotte, in which They may be awakened; and it ys then that They become resteless and impatient for ye tyme, and provoke Their powers. One of ye ways, as sette down by Eybon in hys Booke, doth follow..." Here there was only the beginning of a long incantation of indistinguishable words. Most of it had faded away, as though from constant reference to this page. As I thought again of old Zickler sitting mumbling at this window, my interest surpassed all previous bounds. I turned back a few pages, to where Bruce had first begun marking. "So evyl They be, that ye lande whych under They lie doth become strangely polluted, and ye very soil dothe crawle, and strangely be ye thynges whych growe thereon. . . Alhazred in hys chronicle hath avowed: that hwomsoever be attracted unto Them (by ye nefarious ynfluence wych They project when invoked), doth remain forever a parte of Them, nott dead, but newe and oddly bodied, instructing ye very grounde and adding to ye power of Them ... also hath Alhazred said: evyl ye Mynde whych ys helde by no Hedde, and dyre ys ye grounde whych...." -- 17 --
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small clumps of bushes and trees as best I could. It wasn't until I was almost at the graveyard that I remembered--suddenly, disturbingly--something Eb Corey had said; about the youngest Munroe boy who had been playing in the ravine, and had run home to tell his mother he'd seen his lost brother's face, "with a lot of others". At the thought of it, I hurried my steps. I cut across a corner of the graveyard into the house. Looking up at the window of the rear room, I saw no light there. Thinking Bruce must be asleep, I went around the house, entered the front door a bit breathlessly, and hurried upstairs. I had intended to waken Bruce, if necessary, to tell him of Lyle Wilson's nocturnal excursion, for it might mean something to him. I pushed open the door and entered his room, and moved through the darkness to the table and the dimly-seen oil lamp. I searched in my picket for a match, while with the other hand I fumbled for the lamp. "Damn!" My searching fingers had found the lamp all right, and i had burned them on the still hot glass chimney. Bruce must have turned it off no more than a few minutes before. I finally managed to light it again, and as the shadows flickered about the room, I saw that Bruce wasn't there at all, nor had his bed been slept in. Perhaps he had stepped out for a breath of air. On the table one of the heavy tomes lay open, which I recognized as Monstres and Their Kynde. Beside it was a soft-leaded pencil. Then I noticed that Bruce apparently had been checking certain passages with the pencil, very lightly on the crisp yellowish pages. I decide to wait for him, so drew up a chair and began to read those passages which Bruce had so painstakingly marked. Now, after twelve years, I cannot precisely remember those excerpts; but I do know they were in a quaint old English spelling, the first paragraph to strike my eye was almost as follows: "These be nott manifest, but They do wait in patience for a tyme that ys nott yet. Of a hydeous potency be ye blackness wherein They dwell, for They do nott always sleep. They be remote one from another; nonetheless They do have a devious yntercourse. Beneath that far Northe, in ye ancient tymes yclept Hyperborea, do They wait. Afar in ye East, beneath vaste plateaus, They be rumoured. In ye new darke lande across ye seas They surely be. Men of ye sea have whispered of unspeakable manifestations on strange Islands. Indeede there be fearfulle rumour of ye fate of men who go down with doomed shippes. These Creatures be nameless, but assuredly must They be spawned of ancient B'Moth and Ftakhar, Lloigor and Kathuln and ye others. In silence do They await ye call of these Elder Ones...." I stopped reading there, aware that this all sounded vaguely familiar. I must have read similar things in other old books of Bruce's. I turned a few pages to see if he had checked other passages. He had. "Some mortals there do be who revere Them, and some fewe also whom They instruct in a certain wyse. One of these was ye Eybon of that ancient Hyperborea, and there have been others." Suddenly startled, I remembered old Zickler sitting at that very window talking a sort of gibberish to something in the tomb, which he hinted had answered him. Now I read on, suddenly eager, seeking out those passages which Bruce had marked: "There be divers ways, mostly forgotte, in which They may be awakened; and it ys then that They become resteless and impatient for ye tyme, and provoke Their powers. One of ye ways, as sette down by Eybon in hys Booke, doth follow..." Here there was only the beginning of a long incantation of indistinguishable words. Most of it had faded away, as though from constant reference to this page. As I thought again of old Zickler sitting mumbling at this window, my interest surpassed all previous bounds. I turned back a few pages, to where Bruce had first begun marking. "So evyl They be, that ye lande whych under They lie doth become strangely polluted, and ye very soil dothe crawle, and strangely be ye thynges whych growe thereon. . . Alhazred in hys chronicle hath avowed: that hwomsoever be attracted unto Them (by ye nefarious ynfluence wych They project when invoked), doth remain forever a parte of Them, nott dead, but newe and oddly bodied, instructing ye very grounde and adding to ye power of Them ... also hath Alhazred said: evyl ye Mynde whych ys helde by no Hedde, and dyre ys ye grounde whych...." -- 17 --
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