The House on the Borderland, by William Hope Hodgson



“I WAS SEATED in my chair, back again in this old study. My glance wandered round the room. For a minute, it had a strange, quivery appearance — unreal and unsubstantial. This disappeared, and I saw that nothing was altered in any way. I looked towards the end window — the blind was up.

“I rose to my feet, shakily. As I did so, a slight noise, in the direction of the door, attracted my attention. I glanced towards it. For a short instant, it appeared to me that it was being closed, gently. I stared, and saw that I must have been mistaken — it seemed closely shut.

“With a succession of efforts, I trod my way to the window, and looked out. The sun was just rising, lighting up the tangled wilderness of gardens. For, perhaps, a minute, I stood, and stared. I passed my hand, confusedly, across my forehead.

“Presently, amid the chaos of my senses, a sudden thought came to me; I turned, quickly, and called to Pepper. There was no answer, and I stumbled across the room, in a quick access of fear. As I went, I tried to frame his name; but my lips were numb. I reached the table, and stooped down to him, with a catching at my heart. He was lying in the shadow of the table, and I had not been able to see him, distinctly, from the window. Now, as I stooped, I took my breath, shortly. There was no Pepper; instead, I was reaching towards an elongated, little heap of grey, ash-like dust. . .  . . . .

“I must have remained, in that half-stooped position, for some minutes. I was dazed — stunned. Pepper had really passed into the land of shadows.

Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:55