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Hodgson, William Hope, 1877-1918

"The House on the Borderland"

But then, ages of years had passed, since I had awaked--tens of
thousands of years!
My look rested thoughtfully, again upon the place where once had stood
my chair. Suddenly, I passed from abstraction to intentness; for there,
in its standing place, I made out a long undulation, rounded off with
the heavy dust. Yet it was not so much hidden, but that I could tell
what had caused it. I knew--and shivered at the knowledge--that it was a
human body, ages-dead, lying there, beneath the place where I had slept.
It was lying on its right side, its back turned toward me. I could make
out and trace each curve and outline, softened, and moulded, as it were,
in the black dust. In a vague sort of way, I tried to account for its
presence there. Slowly, I began to grow bewildered, as the thought came
to me that it lay just about where I must have fallen when the chair
collapsed.
Gradually, an idea began to form itself within my brain; a thought that
shook my spirit. It seemed hideous and insupportable; yet it grew upon
me, steadily, until it became a conviction.


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