Horror tales, American; Murderers -- Fiction; Parricide -- Fiction; Short stories, American
"Meantime Uncle William's shrieks had abated with his motion, and
nothing was heard from him but long, low moans, and at long intervals
my name, uttered in pleading tones exceedingly grateful to my ear.
Evidently the man had not the faintest notion of what was being done
to him, and was inexpressibly terrified. When Death comes cloaked in
mystery he is terrible indeed. Little by little my uncle's
oscillations diminished, and finally he hung motionless. I went to
him and was about to give him the _coup de grace_, when I heard and
felt a succession of smart shocks which shook the ground like a series
of light earthquakes, and turning in the direction of the ram, saw a
long cloud of dust approaching me with inconceivable rapidity and
alarming effect! At a distance of some thirty yards away it stopped
short, and from the near end of it rose into the air what I at first
thought a great white bird. Its ascent was so smooth and easy and
regular that I could not realize its extraordinary celerity, and was
lost in admiration of its grace. To this day the impression remains
that it was a slow, deliberate movement, the ram--for it was that
animal--being upborne by some power other than its own impetus, and
supported through the successive stages of its flight with infinite
tenderness and care. My eyes followed its progress through the air
with unspeakable pleasure, all the greater by contrast with my former
terror of its approach by land. Onward and upward the noble animal
sailed, its head bent down almost between its knees, its fore-feet
thrown back, its hinder legs trailing to rear like the legs of a
soaring heron.
"At a height of forty or fifty feet, as fond recollection presents it
to view, it attained its zenith and appeared to remain an instant
stationary; then, tilting suddenly forward without altering the
relative position of its parts, it shot downward on a steeper and
steeper course with augmenting velocity, passed immediately above me
with a noise like the rush of a cannon shot and struck my poor uncle
almost squarely on the top of the head! So frightful was the impact
that not only the man's neck was broken, but the rope too; and the
body of the deceased, forced against the earth, was crushed to pulp
beneath the awful front of that meteoric sheep! The concussion
stopped all the clocks between Lone Hand and Dutch Dan's, and
Professor Davidson, a distinguished authority in matters seismic, who
happened to be in the vicinity, promptly explained that the vibrations
were from north to southwest.
"Altogether, I cannot help thinking that in point of artistic atrocity
my murder of Uncle William has seldom been excelled."
OIL OF DOG
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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