large/9571/short_ghost_and_horror_collection_025_1411_librivox_64kb_mp3/ghohor025_14_various_64kb_74
large/9571/short_ghost_and_horror_collection_025_1411_librivox_64kb_mp3/ghohor025_14_various_64kb
English
9571
The old man saw it, and stopped whispering even before my expression of horror made it necessary; saw it and glanced quickly toward the floor of the room he had left an hour before. THE OLD MAN SAW IT AND STOPPED WHISPERING EVEN BEFORE MY EXPRESSION OF HORROR MADE IT NECESSARY SAW IT AND GLANCED QUICKLY UPWARDS TOWARD THE FLOOR OF THE ROOM HE HAD LEFT AN HOUR BEFORE
y fer victuals I couldn’t raise nor buy—here, set still, what’s ailin’ ye?—I didn’t do nothin’, only I wondered haow ’twud be ef I did— They say meat makes blood an’ flesh, an’ gives ye new life, so I wondered ef ’twudn’t make a man live longer an’ longer ef ’twas more the same—” But the whisperer never continued. The interruption was not produced by my fright, nor by the rapidly increasing storm amidst whose fury I was presently to open my eyes on a smoky solitude of blackened ruins. It was produced by a very simple though somewhat unusual happening. The open book lay flat between us, with the picture staring repulsively upward. As the old man whispered the words “more the same” a tiny spattering impact was heard, and something shewed on the yellowed paper of the upturned volume. I thought of the rain and of a leaky roof, but rain is not red. On the butcher’s shop of the Anzique cannibals a small red spattering glistened picturesquely, lending vividness to the horror of the engraving. PICTUR BEGUN TO MAKE ME HUNGRY FOR VICTUALS I COULDN'T RAISE NOR BUY HERE SET STILL WHAT'S AILING YE I DIDN'T DO NOTHIN ONLY I WONDERED HOW TWOULD BE IF I DID THEY SAY MEAT MAKES BLOOD AND FLESH AND GIVES YOU NEW LIFE SO I WONDERED IF TWOULDN'T MAKE A MAN LIVE LONGER AND LONGER EF TWAS MORE THE SAME BUT THE WHISPER NEVER CONTINUED THE INTERRUPTION WAS NOT PRODUCED BY MY FRIGHT NOR BY THE RAPIDLY INCREASING STORM AMIDST WHOSE FURY I WAS PRESENTLY TO OPEN MY EYES ON A SMOKY SOLITUDE OF BLACKENED RUINS IT WAS PRODUC BY A VERY SIMPLE THOUGH SOMEWHAT UNUSUAL HAPPENING THE OPEN BOOK LAY FLAT BETWEEN US WITH THE PICTURE STARING REPULSIVELY UPWARD AS THE OLD MAN WHISPERED THE WORDS MORE THE SAME A TINY SPATTERING IMPACT WAS HEARD AND SOMETHING SHOWED ON THE YELLOW PAPER OF THE UPTURNED VOLUME I THOUGHT OF THE RAIN AND OF A LEAKY ROOF BUT RAIN IS NOT RED ON THE BUTCHER'S SHOP OF THE ANSECUS CANNIBALS A SMALL RED SPATTERING GLISTENED PICTURESQUELY LENDING VIVIDNESS TO THE HORROR OF THE ENGRAVING
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