Yermah the Dorado: The story of a lost raceWait, Frona Eunice
Science
Yermah the Dorado: The story of a lost race
Wait, Frona Eunice
Fantasy fiction; Geographical myths -- Fiction
Ashes, smoke and lava began pouring down the sides of the peak, and
there was a mad rush of wild animals, coming to man in their mute
helplessness from the rocking mountains hemming in the little valley.
Suddenly the gloom was lighted by a meteoric shower, which for an hour
made the heavens blaze in a magnificent electrical display. A terrific
crash of thunder followed, then an ominous rumble, ending in a long
groan which seemed to rend the bosom of the trembling earth.
Red-hot stones and burning cinders fell like a storm of fire upon the
whole surrounding country. Land surfaces subsided and rose again like
immense chests in regular and lusty breathing. The rubble walls and
battlements of the pavilion fell as a pack of cards.
A second shock leveled every house, and brought trees and rocks crashing
down the mountain sides, dealing death and destruction everywhere. The
whole artillery of the heavens was in action, drowning the feeble cries
of man, dying terror-stricken in the heaps of ruins.
Lizards, snakes, rats, mice, and moles raced madly in every direction,
while timid owls and other birds flew close to the ground and screeched
in their fright and bewilderment. The larger animals huddled close
together, while the dogs howled dismally.
A little handful of men and women, surviving the first terrific shocks,
attempted to escape over the lower range of hills, but, to their horror,
a yawning gulf opened at their feet.
Moving in sinister majesty and strangeness, was a bottomless abyss,
impassable in width and several miles long. Before their very eyes, it
swallowed up human beings, houses and forests, grinding and crushing
them between its gigantic jaws. With another terrific wrench, it belched
them up again, followed by a deluge of steam, mud and hot water.
The river lying below Anokia had deserted its natural bed, driven before
the avalanche of lava, and the sea of mud, vapor, gas, black smoke and
effluvia showed where it had forever disappeared through a crevice.
A thick shower of ashes filled the air. The earth undulated and quivered
for a few seconds, and then a tempest of lightning and hail cleared the
suffocating atmosphere.
In the lurid flashes could be seen the oscillation forth and back as if
the very heart of Mount Lassen were being torn out. Its black vomit,
streaked with red, trailed like a snake over the floor of the valley,
setting fire to the combustible wreckage, and stealing up the base of
the peak as well.
Kerœcia led her little band of devoted followers up the high mountain
walling in the western side of the valley. The subterranean rumblings
sounded in her ears like the drum-beating on stumps of trees or logs
done by the wings of male pheasants when they are calling to their
females.
“I hear not the call of a mate. It is death—and thou art welcome!” she
said, turning a pale but composed face to the burning heights.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account