Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Martians -- Fiction; Science fiction
While these unfinished exclamations were actually passing my lips I
chanced to cross that infernal mat, and it is no more startling than
true, but at my word a quiver of expectation ran through that gaunt
web--a rustle of anticipation filled its ancient fabric, and one frayed
corner surged up, and as I passed off its surface in my stride, the
sentence still unfinished on my lips, wrapped itself about my left leg
with extraordinary swiftness and so effectively that I nearly fell into
the arms of my landlady, who opened the door at the moment and came in
with a tray and the steak and tomatoes mentioned more than once already.
It was the draught caused by the opening door, of course, that had made
the dead man's rug lift so strangely--what else could it have been? I
made this apology to the good woman, and when she had set the table and
closed the door took another turn or two about my den, continuing as I
did so my angry thoughts.
"Yes, yes," I said at last, returning to the stove and taking my stand,
hands in pockets, in front of it, "anything were better than this, any
enterprise however wild, any adventure however desperate. Oh, I wish I
were anywhere but here, anywhere out of this redtape-ridden world of
ours! I WISH I WERE IN THE PLANET MARS!"
How can I describe what followed those luckless words? Even as I spoke
the magic carpet quivered responsively under my feet, and an undulation
went all round the fringe as though a sudden wind were shaking it. It
humped up in the middle so abruptly that I came down sitting with a
shock that numbed me for the moment. It threw me on my back and
billowed up round me as though I were in the trough of a stormy sea.
Quicker than I can write it lapped a corner over and rolled me in its
folds like a chrysalis in a cocoon. I gave a wild yell and made one
frantic struggle, but it was too late. With the leathery strength of a
giant and the swiftness of an accomplished cigar-roller covering a
"core" with leaf, it swamped my efforts, straightened my limbs, rolled
me over, lapped me in fold after fold till head and feet and everything
were gone--crushed life and breath back into my innermost being, and
then, with the last particle of consciousness, I felt myself lifted
from the floor, pass once round the room, and finally shoot out, point
foremost, into space through the open window, and go up and up and up
with a sound of rending atmospheres that seemed to tear like riven silk
in one prolonged shriek under my head, and to close up in thunder
astern until my reeling senses could stand it no longer, and time and
space and circumstances all lost their meaning to me.
CHAPTER II
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account