On the BorderlandAustin, F. Britten (Frederick Britten)
Science
On the Borderland
Austin, F. Britten (Frederick Britten)
English fiction -- 20th century; Paranormal fiction; Short stories, English
“I cannot make you realize, sir, the awful fear that surged up in me,
mastering me, throttling me. I almost choked. The lights, the houses,
the people swam in my vision. For some moments I walked along blind,
unseeing. I trust that I am not a coward, that ordinary danger would
find me ready to meet it with some calmness of mind, but in contact
now with the peril I had dreaded, such firmness as I have gave way.
The seeming innocence of the manner in which my death-sentence was
conveyed, the apparently innocuous character of the messenger they
had sent, accentuated my terror. I felt that it was useless to appeal
to my fellow-creatures for help. The certain reply would have been an
imputation of madness. Above all, the purpose of the dog baffled me. It
seemed impossible that my enemies, with all the vast forces at their
command, should use so petty an instrument to strike at me. I could not
even imagine in what manner the dog was to bring about my annihilation.
The disparity of means to the end seemed grotesque.
“So strongly did I feel this that I half-persuaded myself that I was
under an illusion, that the dog was merely a stray that had followed
me for a few yards in the hope of finding a new home. Walking along,
looking straight in front of me, for I dared not turn my head, I
was almost comforted by a semi-belief that the dog was no longer in
pursuit. Presently, with an effort of will, I looked back--to find, as
reason told me I should, the animal still at my heels, padding along
with its nose to the ground.
“I stopped, more from a suspension of faculties than from any desire
to do so, and the dog stopped also. It sat calmly down, looking at me,
and I could almost fancy a quiet, diabolic smile on the loose, ugly,
dripping jaws. We exchanged a steadfast gaze--I can see it now; its
eyes were red-rimmed, bleary, cunning. Standing there, I strove to
divine its purpose. Suddenly it flashed upon me. The dog was tracking
me to my home. Over the trail it had gone once it would go again, this
time accompanied by the active agents of my foes. Why this roundabout
method of reaching me was adopted will no doubt seem a puzzle to you,
sir--it is so to me. But I was and am convinced of the fact.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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