The thing on the door-stepLovecraft, H. P. (Howard Phillips)
Science
The thing on the door-step
Lovecraft, H. P. (Howard Phillips)
Horror tales; Paranormal fiction
I hastened over in a flood of delight, but stood bewildered when a
nurse took me to Edward's room. The patient rose to greet me, extending
his hand with a polite smile; but I saw in an instant that he bore the
strangely energized personality which had seemed so foreign to his own
nature--the competent personality I had found so vaguely horrible,
and which Edward himself had once vowed was the intruding soul of his
wife. There was the same blazing vision--so like Asenath's and old
Ephraim's--and the same firm mouth! and when he spoke I could sense the
same grim, pervasive irony in his voice--the deep irony so redolent of
potential evil. This was the person who had driven my car through the
night five months before--the person I had not seen since that brief
call when he had forgotten the old-time door-bell signal and stirred
such nebulous fears in me--and now he filled me with the same dim
feeling of blasphemous alienage and ineffable cosmic hideousness.
He spoke affably of arrangements for release--and there was nothing
for me to do but assent, despite some remarkable gaps in his recent
memories. Yet I felt that something was terribly, inexplicably wrong
and abnormal. There were horrors in this thing that I could not reach.
This was a sane person--but was it indeed the Edward Derby I had known?
If not, who or what was it--and where was Edward? Ought it to be free
or confined--or ought it to be extirpated from the face of the earth?
There was a hint of the abysmally sardonic in everything the creature
said--the Asenath-like eyes lent a special and baffling mockery to
certain words about the early liberty earned by an _especially close
confinement_! I must have behaved very awkwardly, and was glad to beat
a retreat.
All that day and the next I racked my brain over the problem. What had
happened? What sort of mind looked out through those alien eyes in
Edward's face? I could think of nothing but this dimly terrible enigma,
and gave up all efforts to perform my usual work. The second morning
the hospital called up to say that the recovered patient was unchanged,
and by evening I was close to a nervous collapse--a state I admit,
though others will vow it colored my subsequent vision. I have nothing
to say on this point except that no madness of mine could account for
_all_ the evidence.
7
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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