Ужас Данвича

           Nowthatverystoneformedthecentreofavastspacethrashedaroundbythemountainoushorror,whilstuponitsslightlyconcavesurfacewasathickandfoetiddepositofthesametarrystickinessobservedontheflooroftheruinedWhateleyfarmhousewhenthehorrorescaped.Menlookedatoneanotherandmuttered.Thentheylookeddownthehill. Apparentlythehorrorhaddescendedbyaroutemuchthesameasthatofitsascent.Tospeculatewasfutile. Reason,logic,andnormalideasofmotivationstoodconfounded.OnlyoldZebulon,whowasnotwiththegroup,couldhavedonejusticetothesituationorsuggestedaplausibleexplanation. 

           Thursdaynightbeganmuchliketheothers,butitendedlesshappily. Thewhippoorwillsintheglenhadscreamedwithsuchunusualpersistencethatmanycouldnotsleep,andabout3A.M.allthepartytelephonesrangtremulously. Thosewhotookdowntheirreceiversheardafright-madvoiceshriekout, ‘Help,oh,myGawd!...’ andsomethoughtacrashingsoundfollowedthebreakingoffoftheexclamation. Therewasnothingmore.Noonedareddoanything,andnooneknewtillmorningwhencethecallcame. Thenthosewhohadhearditcalledeveryoneontheline,andfoundthatonlytheFryesdidnotreply. Thetruthappearedanhourlater,whenahastilyassembledgroupofarmedmentrudgedouttotheFryeplaceattheheadoftheglen. Itwashorrible,yethardlyasurprise. Thereweremoreswathsandmonstrousprints,buttherewasnolongeranyhouse.