Thirty Strange StoriesWells, H. G. (Herbert George)
Science
Thirty Strange Stories
Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)
Fantasy fiction, English; Science fiction, English; Short stories, English
The rounded bodies fell apart as he came into sight over the ridge, and
displayed the pinkish object to be the partially devoured body of a
human being, but whether of a man or woman he was unable to say. And the
rounded bodies were new and ghastly-looking creatures, in shape somewhat
resembling an octopus, and with huge and very long and flexible
tentacles, coiled copiously on the ground. The skin had a glistening
texture, unpleasant to see, like shiny leather. The downward bend of the
tentacle-surrounded mouth, the curious excrescence at the bend, the
tentacles, and the large, intelligent eyes, gave the creatures a
grotesque suggestion of a face. They were the size of a fair-sized swine
about the body, and the tentacles seemed to him to be many feet in
length. There were, he thinks, seven or eight at least of the creatures.
Twenty yards beyond them, amid the surf of the now returning tide, two
others were emerging from the sea.
Their bodies lay flatly on the rocks, and their eyes regarded him with
evil interest; but it does not appear that Mr. Fison was afraid, or that
he realised that he was in any danger. Possibly his confidence is to be
ascribed to the limpness of their attitudes. But he was horrified, of
course, and intensely excited and indignant at such revolting creatures
preying upon human flesh. He thought they had chanced upon a drowned
body. He shouted to them, with the idea of driving them off, and,
finding they did not budge, cast about him, picked up a big rounded lump
of rock, and flung it at one.
And then, slowly uncoiling their tentacles, they all began moving
towards him—creeping at first deliberately, and making a soft, purring
sound to each other.
In a moment Mr. Fison realised that he was in danger. He shouted again,
threw both his boots, and started off, with a leap, forthwith. Twenty
yards off he stopped and faced about, judging them slow, and, behold!
the tentacles of their leader were already pouring over the rocky ridge
on which he had just been standing!
At that he shouted again, but this time not threatening, but a cry of
dismay, and began jumping, striding, slipping, wading across the uneven
expanse between him and the beach. The tall red cliffs seemed suddenly
at a vast distance, and he saw, as though they were creatures in another
world, two minute workmen engaged in the repair of the ladder-way, and
little suspecting the race for life that was beginning below them. At
one time he could hear the creatures splashing in the pools not a dozen
feet behind him, and once he slipped and almost fell.
They chased him to the very foot of the cliffs, and desisted only when
he had been joined by the workmen at the foot of the ladder-way up the
cliff. All three of the men pelted them with stones for a time, and then
hurried to the cliff top and along the path towards Sidmouth, to secure
assistance and a boat, and to rescue the desecrated body from the
clutches of these abominable creatures.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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