Тень над Иннсмутом

           Itwasforedoomedtofailure—forwhocouldcrouchblindlywhilealegionofcroaking,bayingentitiesofunknownsourcefloppednoisomelypast,scarcelymorethanahundredyardsaway?

           IthoughtIwaspreparedfortheworst,andIreallyoughttohavebeenpreparedconsideringwhatIhadseenbefore.

           Myotherpursuershadbeenaccursedlyabnormal—soshouldInothavebeenreadytofaceastrengtheningoftheabnormalelement;tolookuponformsinwhichtherewasnomixtureofthenormalatall?Ididnotopenmyeyesuntiltheraucousclamourcameloudlyfromapointobviouslystraightahead.ThenIknewthatalongsectionofthemmustbeplainlyinsightwherethesidesofthecutflattenedoutandtheroadcrossedthetrack—andIcouldnolongerkeepmyselffromsamplingwhateverhorrorthatleeringyellowmoonmighthavetoshew.

           Itwastheend,forwhateverremainstomeoflifeonthesurfaceofthisearth,ofeveryvestigeofmentalpeaceandconfidenceintheintegrityofnatureandofthehumanmind.NothingthatIcouldhaveimagined—nothing,even,thatIcouldhavegatheredhadIcreditedoldZadok’scrazytaleinthemostliteralway—wouldbeinanywaycomparabletothedemoniac,blasphemousrealitythatIsaw—orbelieveIsaw.Ihavetriedtohintwhatitwasinordertopostponethehorrorofwritingitdownbaldly.