School District Number Seven bordered a wild region west of Arkham. It stood in the center of a small grove of oaks, elms and some one or two maples. The road leading from one side to Arkham and the other was lost in the dark woods of the west. When I took up my new role as teacher, in early September 1920, the school building seemed really lovely, although not part of any architectural order and that was just like thousands of other schools in New England: amazacotada, Traditional, painted white, shining amid the surrounding trees.
was by then an old building. No doubt is now abandoned or demolished. Currently, the school district has much more money, but at that time subsidies were a bit miserable and everything was spared. When I entered teaching, still used as textbooks, published editions before this century. My charge was to twenty-seven students, among them, Allen and Whateley, and Perkins, Dunlock, Abbott, Talbot ... and a certain Andrew Potter.
I can not remember now exactly why I was struck by Andrew Potter. It was a big boy for his age boy, a brown face, stare and deep, and black hair, thick, shaggy. His eyes looked at me with a persistence that perplexed me at first, but finally made me feel strangely uncomfortable. I was in fifth grade and did not take long to discover what would happen to the seventh or the eighth with ease, but made no effort to get it. It seemed that merely tolerating their peers, which, in turn, respected him, not affection, but rather out of fear. Pretty soon I realize that this strange boy treated me with amused tolerance the same as their classmates.
Perhaps it was his way of seeing which inevitably led me to watch him surreptitiously to the extent that it permitted the development of the class. That's how I came to notice a vaguely disturbing fact: occasionally Andrew Potter responded to a stimulus that my senses could not pick them, and reacted exactly as if someone called, take care of himself then, it became alert and took the same animals attitude when they hear sounds imperceptible to the human ear.
Increasingly intrigued, I took the first opportunity to ask about it. One of the boys in eighth grade, Wilbur Dunlock, used to stay after completing the class and help clean the classroom.
-Wilbur, "I said one afternoon, when all were gone, I note that none of you will pay heed to Andrew Potter. Why?
I looked at with suspicion, and thought before shrugging the shoulders to answer.
"It's not like us.
- In what sense? "The boy shook his head.
"It does not matter if we let him play with us or not. Also, do not want.
seemed reluctant to answer, but managed to force questions get some information. The Potters lived inland, in the forested hills west, near a deviation from the nearly abandoned road through this wild area. His farm was located in a small valley, known locally as the Hole of the Witches and Wilbur described as "a bad place." The family consisted of four members: Andrew, an older sister that he and the parents. Not "mixed" with other people in the district, even with the Dunlock, who were his closest neighbors living than a mile from the school and about seven in the Hoya de las Brujas. Both farms were separated by forest.
could not or would not, tell me more.
about a week later, Andrew Potter asked to stay after class. Did not object, as if my request was the most natural thing. As soon as the other children had left, approached my table and waited standing with her black eyes expectantly fixed on me, and a shadow of a smile on her full lips.
"I've been looking at your grades, Andrew "I said, and I think with a little effort you could spend the sixth grade ... maybe even the seventh. Would not you like to make that effort? "He shrugged.
- What will you do when you leave school? "He shrugged again.
- Are you going to Secondary School in Arkham? "I looked with eyes that seemed to have suddenly acquired a keen wit, was missing its lethargy.
"Mr. Williams, I am here because there is a law that says I have to," he said. No law says I have to go to the Institute.
"But are not you interested?
"No matter what interests me. What counts is what my people want.
"Well, talk to them," I decided at that moment. Come on. I'll take you home.
For a moment she appeared in her expression a shade of alarm, but a few seconds later dissipated, giving way to that aspect of lethargy vigilant so characteristic of him. He turned to shrug his shoulders and stood, waiting, while I kept my books and papers in the portfolio that usually took me. Then he walked gently with me to the car and went, looking with an unequivocal smile of superiority.
We went into the forest went silent, quite in harmony with the melancholy sadness coming over me is going into the hill country. The trees were stuck to the road and the more we went, it became darker the forest (perhaps because both were in late October as the growing thicket of trees). Of distinct relatively large, we plunged into an ancient forest, and when they finally turn off on a country road, little more than a trail-Andrew pointed me in silence, began to roll among very old tree, strangely distorted. Had to drive with caution, the road was so little traffic that the weed was invaded by both sides. And, strangely enough, despite my degree in botany, those plants is unknown to me, but I thought that there were some who had a curious saxifrage mutation. Suddenly, unexpectedly, ended at the fence of the house of Potter.
The sun had hidden behind the wall of trees and the house was engulfed in a light of dusk. Farther up the valley, they understood a few fields of work. One had corn in another, stubble, and in another squash. The house itself was horrible, I was almost in ruins and had a top floor occupying half the floor, a mansard roof and shuttered, its dependencies, cold and dismantled, seemed to have been used ever. The whole farm seemed abandoned. The only signs of life consisted of a few chickens scratching the ground behind the house.
Had it not been for the road we had taken ended up here, would have doubted that this was the home of the Potter. Andrew looked at me as if trying to guess my thoughts. Then he jumped lightly the car, leaving me to follow him.
entered the house before me. I heard myself proclaimed.
"Here is Mr. Williams, a teacher. There was no answer.
Then, suddenly, I found myself in the room lit only by an old oil lamp, where were the other three Potter. The father was a tall, stoop-shouldered and gray hair, which was not more than fifty years, but that looks to be much older, not physically and mentally. The mother was indecently fat, and the girl, tall and slim, had the same air and expectant advised that he had observed in Andrew
Andrew made short presentations, and four were kept waiting for me to say what he had to say, I got the impression that his attitude was somewhat uncomfortable, as if they wanted to be over soon and leave.
"I wanted to talk about Andrew," I said. I see great skill in it, and could advance a grade or two, consider a little more. "My words did not get any response.
"I'm convinced he has sufficient knowledge and enough capacity to be in eighth grade, I said and kept quiet.
"If I was in eighth grade," said the father, the Institute would have to go after school, by age thing. It's the law. I have been told.
came to my mind what I had said Wilbur Dunlock isolation of the Potter and, while listening to the old reasons, I realized that the whole family was tense and that their attitude had imperceptibly changed. At the time when the father stopped speaking, he restored a singular uniformity was as if the four were hearing an inner voice. I doubt even they heard my words of protest.
"They can expect a smart guy like Andrew is confined in a place like this," I said finally.
"Here is the old well," said Potter. Furthermore, it is ours. Now do not go around talking to us, Mr. Williams.
His voice had a threatening note left me amazed. At the same time I was becoming increasingly clear the atmosphere of hostility, which did not come as much from them as the house and the surrounding fields.
"Thanks" I said. I'm going. "I turned around and left. Andrew I followed the steps. Once outside, he said softly:
"You must not talk about us, Mr. Williams. Dad gets crazy when he finds that about him. You Dunlock asked Wilbur. "I stayed in one piece. With one foot in the stirrup of the car, I turned and asked:
- he has told you that? He shook his head negatively.
"It was you, Mr Williams said while retrocedÃa." And before I could open my mouth again, had gotten into the house like an arrow.
For a moment, I remained undecided. But I soon to react. Suddenly, at dusk, the house took on a threatening and all contour trees seemed to be waiting to bend me. In truth, I heard a whisper, like the sound of a breeze around the forest, but no air blowing of any kind, and the house came a wave of malevolence that struck me like a slap. I got into the car and drove away, still feeling in the neck that impression of malignancy, as the hot breath of a wild chase.
I came to my apartment in Arkham in a state of great agitation. There, pondering what had happened, I decided I had had a very disturbing psychic influence. There was no other explanation. He was convinced that I had blindly cast a much deeper water than I thought, truly unexpected and distressing this experience made me more shocking. I could not eat, wondering what happened in the Hoya de las Brujas, which supported the family as firmly united, which tied her to that place, and what a boy suffocated Andrew Potter promising as even the most fleeting desire to leave that dark valley and go to a more bright and cheerful.
During most of the night was walking around without being able to sleep, full of nameless fears, unexplained, and when at last I slept, my dream was invaded by hideous nightmares in which I represented infinitely beings unrelated to any human fancy and horrific events took place. When I woke up the next morning, I experienced the feeling of having touched a world completely foreign to men.
I came to school early morning, but Wilbur Dunlock was already there. His eyes looked at me with sad reproach. I did not understand what had happened to cause this attitude in a student normally so helpful.
"You should not have told Andrew Potter we had talked about it," he said with a sort of unhappy resignation.
"I did, Wilbur.
"What I know is that I was not, so that must have been you," he said, adding "Tonight killed six of our cows. They have been sunk over the shed where they were. "At the moment I was so stunned that I could not replicate.
"Some sudden gust of wind ... "I began, but cut me right away.
"There was no wind tonight, Mr. Williams. And the cows were crushed.
-not think that Potter has nothing to do with it, "cried Wilbur. He gave me a look of patience, as sometimes see who knows who should know but do not understand and said nothing.
This news seemed even more alarming that the experience of the previous evening. At least Wilbur was convinced there was a relationship between our conversation about the Potters and the loss of half a dozen cows. And he was so deeply convinced, that beforehand seemed that nothing could deter the world. When he entered Adrew Potter, tried in vain to discover in it a change from the last time I saw him. Mal worse, I concluded that day of class. Immediately after finishing, I went in haste to Arkham and went to the offices of the Gazette, whose editor in chief, as a member of the Board of Education District had been very kindly helping me to find accommodation. He was a man of almost seventy years and maybe could help me in my research .. My face must reflect the state of agitation that was because, as she entered, raised his eyebrows and said
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