Contrary to my
expectation this gave me no relief; the light seemed
rather an added danger, for I reflected that it would
shine out under the door, disclosing my presence to
whatever evil thing might lurk outside. You that
are still in the flesh, subject to horrors of the imagi-
nation, think what a monstrous fear that must be
which seeks in darkness security from malevolent
existences of the night. That is to spring to close
quarters with an unseen enemy--the strategy of
despair!
Extinguishing the lamp I pulled the bedclothing
about my head and lay trembling and silent, unable
to shriek, forgetful to pray. In this pitiable state I
must have lain for what you call hours--with us
there are no hours, there is no time.
At last it came--a soft, irregular sound of footfalls
on the stairs! They were slow, hesitant, uncertain,
as of something that did not see its way; to my dis-
ordered reason all the more terrifying for that, as
the approach of some blind and mindless malevo-
lence to which is no appeal. I even thought that I
must have left the hall lamp burning and the grop-
ing of this creature proved it a monster of the night.
This was foolish and inconsistent with my previous
dread of the light, but what would you have? Fear
has no brains; it is an idiot. The dismal witness that
it bears and the cowardly counsel that it whispers
are unrelated. We know this well, we who have
passed into the Realm of Terror, who skulk in
eternal dusk among the scenes of our former lives,
invisible even to ourselves, and one another, yet
hiding forlorn in lonely places; yearning for speech
with our loved ones, yet dumb, and as fearful of
them as they of us.
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