Detective and mystery stories, English; Horror tales, English
"The whole aspect of this monster was formidable and threatening, and
it kept changing its colour from a very light mauve to a dark, angry
purple so thick that it cast a shadow as it drifted between my
monoplane and the sun. On the upper curve of its huge body there were
three great projections which I can only describe as enormous bubbles,
and I was convinced as I looked at them that they were charged with
some extremely light gas which served to buoy up the misshapen and
semi-solid mass in the rarefied air. The creature moved swiftly along,
keeping pace easily with the monoplane, and for twenty miles or more it
formed my horrible escort, hovering over me like a bird of prey which
is waiting to pounce. Its method of progression--done so swiftly that
it was not easy to follow--was to throw out a long, glutinous streamer
in front of it, which in turn seemed to draw forward the rest of the
writhing body. So elastic and gelatinous was it that never for two
successive minutes was it the same shape, and yet each change made it
more threatening and loathsome than the last.
"I knew that it meant mischief. Every purple flush of its hideous body
told me so. The vague, goggling eyes which were turned always upon me
were cold and merciless in their viscid hatred. I dipped the nose of
my monoplane downwards to escape it. As I did so, as quick as a flash
there shot out a long tentacle from this mass of floating blubber, and
it fell as light and sinuous as a whip-lash across the front of my
machine. There was a loud hiss as it lay for a moment across the hot
engine, and it whisked itself into the air again, while the huge, flat
body drew itself together as if in sudden pain. I dipped to a
vol-pique, but again a tentacle fell over the monoplane and was shorn
off by the propeller as easily as it might have cut through a smoke
wreath. A long, gliding, sticky, serpent-like coil came from behind and
caught me round the waist, dragging me out of the fuselage. I tore at
it, my fingers sinking into the smooth, glue-like surface, and for an
instant I disengaged myself, but only to be caught round the boot by
another coil, which gave me a jerk that tilted me almost on to my back.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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