V
I come now to the end of the apocalyptic events concerning Mr Allan and the mystery surrounding the house in the forgotten dead. I hesitate to put them here, even now, knowing full well that the charge that it weighs on me to be exacerbated and would lead to serious doubts about my mental health. But I have no other choice. In fact, the entire future of humanity, the course of what we call civilization, can be affected by what may or may not write about this issue. The culminating events developed rapidly after the conversation with Rose Dexter, this unsatisfactory telephone exchange.
After a busy day worrying and full of anxiety, I concluded that I had to give an explanation supporting Rose. The next night, I went early to the library, where I used to meet her, and placed me in a place where you could see the main entrance. They waited for over an hour until I realized that I might not go to the library that night.
again resorted to the phone, intending to ask if he could get close to her to explain to him the previous night. It was his sister, not Rose, who answered the phone. Rose had gone
"A gentleman called her.
- Do you know him? I asked.
"No, Mr. Phillips.
- Did you hear his name?
I had not heard. In fact he had only been partially when Rose came hurrying to meet him, but at my insistence he admitted that the gentleman who had called Rose had a mustache.
Mr. Allan! No need to find out more.
and for a moment I did not know what to do. Maybe Rose and Mr Allan were dedicated only to walk along Benefit Street. But maybe they had gone to that mysterious house. Just thinking about it fills me with apprehension that made me lose my head.
I left the library and went home. It was ten when I got home from Angell Street. Fortunately my mother had slept, so I could take my father's gun without disturbing. Once loaded, walked hurriedly through a Providence invaded at night, block after block, toward the edge of the Seekonk and the alley was the strange house Mr Allan, unaware of the show that night for other walkers, representing the uncontrolled haste with which he walked. Anyway, I did not care, then maybe Rose's life was in danger, and beyond that, little defined, was about an evil more awful still and older.
When I got home that Mr Allan was gone, I was struck by his solitude and dark windows. Stunned, hesitated to continue, and waited for a minute or two to take a breath and calm my pulse. Then, always in the shadows, I moved silently toward the house, watching the smallest ray of light. I returned to the house from the front to rear door. It did not look the slightest ray of light. But she could hear a low humming, vibrating sound, like the whistle of a cable responding to the wind. Crossed to one end of the house, and there I saw signs of light, not yellow, like a lamp inside, but a pale lavender radiation that seemed to emanate softly from the wall itself.
I retired, vividly recalling what he had seen at home. But I could not passive role. I had to know if Rose was in the dark house, perhaps in this very room of unknown machinery and glass container with the monster in violet radiation. I turned toward the front of the house and climbed the steps leading to the front door. Again the door was open. Bowed to pressure from my fingers. I stopped only to take the heavy gun in my hands, I pushed the door and entered the lobby. I stopped a moment to accustom my eyes to the darkness, standing there, she felt better tarareante sound he had heard, and something more: the same kind of song that I had left in a hypnotic state when I witnessed the disturbing vision that supposedly life was like in another world. I realized its significance immediately. Rose thought it would be with the Lord Allan and his brothers, going through a similar experience.
I wish I had been more than that!
Well, when I entered the large room in the back of the house, I saw something that will always remain etched in my mind. Room lit by the radiation of glass container, could see Mr. Allan and his brothers prostrate on the ground around the two containers, delivered to your song. Behind them, next to the wall, lay-in life-size reproduction of Poe that I had seen in the strange creature in the glass container bathed violet radiation. But it was Mr. Allan and his brothers which gave me the profound shock and repelled me. It was what I saw in glass containers!
The giving brightness to the room with his throbbing, agitated violet radiation was Dexter Rose, fully dressed, and certainly under hypnosis. And it was over, long and furiously with their tentacles lashing, the cone-shaped rugged that the last time I had seen on the skyline shrink Poe. And in the container to be connected, almost frightens me to write it down here, lay, identical in every detail, a perfect duplicate of Rose Dexter!
What happened next was unclear in my mind. I know that I lost control, I fired blindly against the glass containers, trying to break them. I know I gave one or both, as the impact of radiation faded, the room was plunged into darkness, screams of fear and alarm by Mr. Allan and his brothers, and between the succession of bursts of machine I ran forward and grabbed Rose Dexter.
Somehow I reached the street with Rose.
I looked back and saw the flames appeared windows in the damn house, and then, unexpectedly, the north wall collapsed, and something-an object that I could not identify, left the house on fire and vanished into the sky. I ran, with Rose in my arms.
Once you regained consciousness, Rose became hysterical, but I finally managed to calm her down and was silent, not saying anything. In silence I took her home. He knew how terrible it must have been his experience, and was willing to say nothing until he had fully recovered.
During the following week, I could see clearly what had occurred in the house of dead, but the crime of arson, for which I blame, instead much more seriously, had left the gun in the house was burning, blinded to the police and rejected any interpretation of the facts they had anything to do with extraterrestrial issues. I insisted that they saw Rose Dexter when it was recovered and could speak, and wished to do so. I can not make them understand what I now understand perfectly. But the facts are there, unchallenged. They say they found charred meat in the house is not human, at least most of it is not. Could they expect anything else? "Seven men like Edgar Allan Poe? They understand that what was inside the house came from another world, a dying world, which sought to invade and take over Earth in human form playing! They must know that the first human model chosen for these to be reincarnated beings had, by chance, Poe, chosen because they were unaware that did not represent the average man. They have to know, as I came to know that the tentacles rugose cone fitted in violet radiation, was the source of its material form, and that the machinery and pipes, which they said had been too damaged by the fire for be identified, as if they could identify their function even without being destroyed! - created, from material provided by the violet light cone, simulating material flesh, a human-shaped creatures like Poe.
himself "Sir Allan" gave me the clue, although I did not know then, when I asked why mankind was under scrutiny interplanetary "Why make war? Why invade? ", And said:" A highly developed form of life would not need to use such primitive methods. " Could anything provide a better explanation for this strange occupation of the house on the Seekonk? Since then, it was clear now that what the "Mr. Allan," and his brothers gave me in my own house was a vision of the Planet of the rough cubes and cones, their planet.
And probably the most abominable of all, obvious to any impartial observer, was the reason they wanted to Rose. Sought to reproduce its kind in the form of men and women to mingle with us, undetected, without suspecting them, and slowly, over decades, perhaps centuries, while their world was dying, take and prepare Land for those who might come later.
Only God knows how many of them may be here among us even now!
later. I could see Rose yet, tonight, and I do not know whether to call. I can think of something terrible. I feel horrible prisoner of doubt. I did not think during the ordeal, after the shooting in a room lit with violet, and now when I started to ask me, and my concern has been growing hour by hour, until it became unbearable. How I can be sure that in those minutes of madness rescued the real Rose Dexter? If I did, indeed, she confirmed it tonight. If God did not know what I've released unintentionally on Providence and the world!
Extract The Providence Journal, July l7:
A NEIGHBORHOOD GIRL KILLS HER AGGRESSOR
Rose Dexter, daughter of Mr. Elisha Dexter and his wife, of 127 of the Benevolent Street, repelled and killed last night to a young man accused of assaulting. Ms. Dexter was found in a state of hysteria as he ran down Benefit Street, near the Cathedral of San Juan, near the cemetery where the event took place.
His assailant was identified as an old friend, Arthur Phillips ...
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