On the third morning the soil was dry enough to walk upon with ease.
set out for an unknown goal
guided by a faraway hummock
the unbroken monotony of the rolling plain
a source of horror
the summit of the mount
peering over the rim into a fathomless
chaos of eternal night
curious reminiscences of Satan’s hideous climb
through the unfashioned realms of darkness
The moon, now near the zenith, shone weirdly and vividly
above the towering steeps that hemmed in the chasm, and revealed the fact that a farflung body of water
flowed at the bottom, winding out of sight in both directions.
Across the chasm, the wavelets washed the base of a cyclopean monolith
creatures shewn disporting like fishes in the waters of some marine grotto
Grotesque beyond the imagination of a Poe or a Bulwer, they were damnably human
in general outline despite webbed hands and feet, shockingly wide and flabby lips, glassy, bulging eyes, and other features less pleasant to recall
With only a slight churning to mark its rise to the surface, the thing slid into view above the dark waters.
Vast, Polyphemuslike, and loathsome,
it darted like a stupendous monster of nightmares to the monolith,
about which it flung its gigantic scaly arms,
the while it bowed its hideous head and gave vent to certain measured sounds.
A frantic ascent of the slope and cliff
A delirious journey back to the stranded
boat
indistinct recollections of a great storm
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