The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 3Poe, Edgar Allan
General
The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 3
Poe, Edgar Allan
American fiction -- 19th century; Fantasy fiction; Horror tales, American
As soon as we sufficiently recovered from our fright and surprise
to be capable of conversing rationally, we both came to the
conclusion that the walls of the fissure in which we had ventured
had, by some convulsion of nature, or probably from their own
weight, caved in overhead, and that we were consequently lost for
ever, being thus entombed alive. For a long time we gave up
supinely to the most intense agony and despair, such as cannot be
adequately imagined by those who have never been in a similar
position. I firmly believed that no incident ever occurring in
the course of human events is more adapted to inspire the
supremeness of mental and bodily distress than a case like our
own, of living inhumation. The blackness of darkness which
envelops the victim, the terrific oppression of lungs, the
stifling fumes from the damp earth, unite with the ghastly
considerations that we are beyond the remotest confines of hope,
and that such is the allotted portion of the dead, to carry into
the human heart a degree of appalling awe and horror not to be
tolerated—never to be conceived.
At length Peters proposed that we should endeavour to ascertain
precisely the extent of our calamity, and grope about our prison;
it being barely possible, he observed, that some opening might
yet be left us for escape. I caught eagerly at this hope, and,
arousing myself to exertion, attempted to force my way through
the loose earth. Hardly had I advanced a single step before a
glimmer of light became perceptible, enough to convince me that,
at all events, we should not immediately perish for want of air.
We now took some degree of heart, and encouraged each other to
hope for the best. Having scrambled over a bank of rubbish which
impeded our farther progress in the direction of the light, we
found less difficulty in advancing and also experienced some
relief from the excessive oppression of lungs which had tormented
us. Presently we were enabled to obtain a glimpse of the objects
around, and discovered that we were near the extremity of the
straight portion of the fissure, where it made a turn to the
left. A few struggles more, and we reached the bend, when to our
inexpressible joy, there appeared a long seam or crack extending
upward a vast distance, generally at an angle of about forty-five
degrees, although sometimes much more precipitous. We could not
see through the whole extent of this opening; but, as a good deal
of light came down it, we had little doubt of finding at the top
of it (if we could by any means reach the top) a clear passage
into the open air.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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