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Hodgson, William Hope, 1877-1918

"The House on the Borderland"


There was no night-sky, as we know it. Even the few straggling stars
had vanished, conclusively. I might have been in a shuttered room,
without a light; for all that I could see. Only, in the impalpableness
of gloom, opposite, burnt that vast, encircling hair of dull fire.
Beyond this, there was no ray in all the vastitude of night that
surrounded me; save that, far in the North, that soft, mistlike glow
still shone.
Silently, years moved on. What period of time passed, I shall never
know. It seemed to me, waiting there, that eternities came and went,
stealthily; and still I watched. I could see only the glow of the sun's
edge, at times; for now, it had commenced to come and go--lighting up a
while, and again becoming extinguished.
All at once, during one of these periods of life, a sudden flame cut
across the night--a quick glare that lit up the dead earth, shortly;
giving me a glimpse of its flat lonesomeness. The light appeared to come
from the sun--shooting out from somewhere near its center, diagonally.


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