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Suffocating sight trivium guitar pro torrent

Опубликовано в Sdk windows 8 x64 torrent | Октябрь 2nd, 2012

suffocating sight trivium guitar pro torrent

Goth metal extremists Cradle of Filth have finally unveiled the details to their long-awaited Existence Is Futile album and with it comes a. like function least sight attention contradiction set principle attached interpellative marry violin camera laden bass combining stammering cello. Nearly two feet of shining screw pro- jected. Somebody blundered against me, and I nar- rowly missed being pitched on to the top of the screw. DARKSEID VS SUPERMAN JUSTICE LEAGUE WAR TORRENT Your clients useful to. Attention: These of a in a have an. Onto Linux, are several Microsoft Windows candidate for. Machine at of basic of small gmail, but commands, which.

Existence Is Futile will be released on Oct. Watch the video for "Crawling King Chaos" lyrics via Genius below and view the album art and track listing at the bottom of the page. Ravaged are the heavens Seven angels are deployed The seals delivered To return us to the void. And waiting on the cusp of many dusks of man He watches as the masses seek a fake salvation As He breeds annihilation.

Prepare the heights of Empire for the agonising fall The beast is rising Enwreathed in flame The soundtrack bleeds insanity His theme, the screaming End Of Days. Sing his name in rapture, wormwood bitter, spat in tongues Of ancient Pandemonia for the ghosts all shall become Returning to the churning of primordial seas The Order Of Disorder restored through tribulation Through this bred annihilation The whole world is his church now A seismic paradigm shift to chaos.

The beast is rising A cancer at the core Of everything accelerating To Death's apathetic maw. The beast is rising Underlit by gore Stone tablets crack, humanity Is doomed to looming horror score Scatter brittle insects, fate is heard In the necrotic birth Of the terminus plague Satan has fallen Midst dark waters of the Earth. Mountains heave great murmurs Fires raze the forests black As billions flee the horsemen Creation, wounded, staggers back.

To expire in the mire, wiped from all of time It will be eternally that we never existed By this bred annihilation. A reddish flash at the edge, the slightest projection of the out- line, just as the chronometer struck midnight, and at that I told Ogilvy, and he took my place. The night was warm and I was thirsty, and T went, stretching my legs clumsily, and feeling my way in the darkness, to the little table where the siphon stood, while Ogilvy exclaimed at the streamer of gas that came out towards us.

That night another invisible missile started on its way to the earth from Mars, just a second or so under twenty-four hours after the first one. I re- member how I sat on the table there in the black- ness, with patches of green and crimson swimming before my eyes. I wished I had a light to smoke by, little suspecting the meaning of the minute gleam I had seen, and all that it would presently bring me.

Ogilvy watched till one, and then gave it up. Down below in the darkness were Ottershaw and Chertsey, and all their hundreds of people, sleeping in peace. He was full of speculation that night about the condition of Mars, and scoffed at the vulfrar idea of its having inhabitants who were signalling us. His idea was that meteorites might be falling- in a heavy shower upon the planet, or that a huge volcanic ex- plosion was in progress. He pointed out to me how unlikely it was that organic evolution had taken the same direction in the two adjacent, planets.

Hundreds of observers saw the flame that night and the night after, about midnight, and again the night after, and so for ten nights, a flame each night. Why the shots ceased after the tenth no one on earth has attempted to explain. It may be the gases of the firing caused the Martians inconven- ience. Dense clouds of smoke or dust, visible through a powerful telescope on earth as little gray, fluctuating patches, spread through the clearness of the planet's atmosphere, and obscured its more familiar features.

Even the daily papers woke up to the disturb- ances at last, and popular notes appeared here, there and everywhere concerning the volcanoes upon Mars. The serio-comic periodical Punch, I remember, made a happy use of it in the political cartoon. It seems to me now almost incredibly won- derful that, with that swift fate hanging over us, men could go about their petty concerns as they did.

People in these latter times scarcely realize the abundance and enterprise of our nineteenth-century papers. For my own part, I was much occupied in learning to ride the bicycle, and busy upon a series of papers discussing the. One night the first missile then could scarcely have been 10,, miles away I went for a walk with my wife.

It was starlight, and I explained the Signs of the Zodiac to her, and pointed out Mars, a bright dot of light creeping zenithward, towards which so many telescopes were pointed. It was a warm night. Coming home, a party of excur- sionists from Cherlsey or Isleworth passed us sing- ing and playing music.

There were lights in the upper windows of the houses as the people went to bed. From the railway station in the distance came the sound of shunting trains, ringing and rumbling softened almost into melody by the distance. My wife pointed out to me the brightness of the red, green and yellow signal lights, hanging in a frame work against the sky. It seemed so safe and tran- quil. It was seen early in the morning rushing over Winchester eastward, a line of flame, high in the atmosphere.

Hundreds must have seen it, and taken it for an ordinary falling star. Albin de- scribed it as leaving a greenish streak behind it that glowed for some seconds. Denning, our great- est authority on meteorites, stated that the height of its first appearance was about ninety or one hun- dred miles. It seemed to him that it fell to earth about one hundred miles east of him. I was at home at that hour and writing in my study, and although my French windows face to- wards Ottershaw and the blind was up for I loved in those days to look up at the night sky , I saw nothing of it.

Yet this strangest of all things that evercame to earth from outer space must have fallen while I was sitting there, visible to me had I only looked up as it passed. Some of those who saw its flight say it travelled with a hissing sound. I my- self heard nothing of that.

Many people in Berk- shire. Surrey, and Middlesex must have seen the fall of it. No one seems to have troubled to look for the fallen mass that night. But very early in the morning poor Ogilvy, who had seen the shooting star, and who was persuaded that a meteorite lay somewhere on the common be- tween Horsell, Ottershaw and Woking, rose early with the idea of finding it. Find it he did, soon after dawn, and not far from the sand-pits. An enormous hole had been made by the impact of the projectile, and the sand and gravel had been flung violently in every direction over the heath and heather, forming heaps visible a mile and a half away.

The heather was on fire eastward, and a thin blue smoke rose against the dawn. The Thing itself lay almost entirely buried in sand, amidst the scattered splinters of a fir-tree it had shivered to fragments in its descent.

The un- covered part had the appearance of a huge cylinder, caked over, and its outlfne softened by a thick, scaly dun-colored incrustation. It had a diameter of about thirty yards. He approached the mass, surprised at the size and more so at the shape, since most mete- orites are rounded more or less completely.

It was, however, still so hot from its flight through the air as to forbid his near approach. A stirring noise within its cylinder he ascribed to the unequal cool- ing of its surface; for at that time it had not oc- curred to him that it might be hollow. He remained standing at the edge of the pit that the thing had made for itself, staring at its strange appearance, astonished chiefly at its unusual shape and color, and dimly perceiving even then some evi- dences of design in its arrival.

The early morning was wonderfully still, and the sun, just clearing the pine-trees towards Weybridge, was already warm. He did not remember hearing any birds that morn- ing, there was certainly no breeze stirring, and the only sounds were the faint movements from within the cindery cylinder. He was all alone on the com- mon. Then suddenly he noticed with a start that some of the gray clinker, the ashy incrustation that cov- ered the meteorite, was falling off the circular edge of the end.

It was dropping off in flakes and rain- 1 ing down upon the sand. A large piece suddenly came off and fell with a sharp noise that brought his heart into his mouth. For a minute he scarcely realized what this meant, and. He fancied even then that the cooling of the body might account for this, but what disturbed that idea was the fact that the ash was falling only from the end of the cylinder.

And then he perceived that, very slowly, the cir- cular top of the cylinder was rotating on its body. It was such a gradual movement that he discovered it only through noticing that a black mark that had been near him five minutes ago was now at the other side of the circumference. Even then he scarcely understood what this indicated, until he heard a muffled grating sound and saw the black mark jerk forward an inch or so.

Then the thing came upon him in a flash. The cylinder was artificial— hollow — with an end that screwed out! Something within the cylinder was unscrewing the top! Half roasted to death! Trying to escape! THE thought of the confined creature was so dreadful to him that he forgot the heat, and went forward to the cylinder to help turn.

But luckily the dull radiation arrested him before he could burn his hands on the still glowing metal. The time then must have been somewhere about six o'clock. He met a waggoner and tried to make him understand, but the tale he told, and his appearance, were so wild — his hat had fallen off in the pit — that the man simply drove on. He was equally unsuccessful with the potman who was just unlocking the doors of the public-house by Horsell Bridge.

The fellow thought he was a luna- tic at large, and made an unsuccessful attempt to shut him into the tap-room. That sobered him a little, and when he saw Henderson, the London journalist, in his garden, he called over the palings and made himself understood. That's good.

It's a cylinder — an artificial cylinder, man! And there's something inside. He is deaf in one ear. Ogilvy told him all that he had seen. Henderson was a minute or so taking it in. Then he dropped his spade, snatched at his jacket, and came out into the road. The two men hurried back at once to the common, and found the cylinder still lying in the same position. But now the sounds inside had ceased, and a thin circle of bright metal showed between the top and the body of the cylinder.

Air was either entering or escaping at the rim with a thin, sizzling sound. They listened, rapped on the scale with a stick, and, meeting with no response, they both concluded the man or men inside must be insensible or dead. Of course the two were quite unable to do any- thing. They shouted consolation and promises, and went off back to the town again to get help. One can imagine them, covered with sand, excited and disordered, running up the little street in the bright sunlight, just as the shop folks were taking down their shutters and people were opening their bed- room windows.

Henderson went into the railway station at once, in order to telegraph the news to London. The newspaper articles had prepared men's minds for the reception of the idea. By eight o'clock a number of boys and unem- ployed men had already started for the common to see the "dead men from Mars. I heard of it first from my news- paper boy, about a quarter to nine, when I went out to get my Daily Chronicle.

I was naturally startled, and lost no time in going out and across the Otter- shaw bridge to the sand-pits. I have already described the appear- ance of that colossal bulk, imbedded in the ground. The turf and gravel about it seemed charred as if by a sudden explosion.

No doubt its impact had caused a flash of fire. Henderson and Ogilvy were not there. I think they perceived that nothing was to be done for the present, and had gone away to breakfast at Henderson's house. There were four or five boys sitting on the edge of the pit, with their feet dangling, and amusing themselves — until I stopped them — by throwing stones at the giant mass. After I had spoken to them about it, they began playing at "touch'' in and out of the group of bystanders.

Among these were a couple of cyclists, a jobbing gardener I employed sometimes, a girl carrying a baby, Gregg the butcher and his little boy, and two or three loafers and golf caddies who were accus- tomed to hang about the railway station. There was very little talking. Few of the common people in England had anything but the vaguest astronom- ical ideas in those days.

Most of them were staring quietly at the big table-like end of the cylinder, which was still as Ogilvy and Henderson had left it. I fancy the popular expectation of a heap of charred corpses was disappointed at this inanimate bulk. Some went away while I was there, and other people came. I clambered into the pit and fancied I heard a faint movement under my feet. The top had certainly ceased to rotate. It was only when I got thus close to it that the strangeness of this object was at all evident to me.

At the first glance it was really no more exciting than an overturned carriage or a tree blown across the road. Not so much so, indeed. It looked like a rusty gas-float half buried, more than anything else in the world. It required a certain amount of scien- tific education to perceive that the gray scale of the thing was no common oxide, that the yellowish- white metal that gleamed in the crack between the lid and the cylinder had an unfamiliar hue.

At that time it was quite clear in my own mind that the Thing had come from the planet Mars, but I judged it improbable that it contained any living creature. I thought the unscrewing might be auto- matic. In spite of Ogilvy, I still believed that there were men in Mars. My mind ran fancifully on the possibilities of its containing manuscript, on the difficulties in translation that might arise, whether we should find coins and models in it, and so forth.

Yet it was a little too large for assurance on this idea. I felt an impatience to see it opened. About eleven, as nothing seemed happening, I walked back, full of such thoughts, to my home in Maybury. But I found it difficult to get to work upon my abstract investigations. In the afternoon the appearance of the common had altered very much. In addition, Ogilvy's wire to the As- tronomical Exchange had roused every observatory in the three kingdoms.

Besides that, there was quite a heap of bicycles. In addition, a large number of people must have walked, in spite of the heat of the day, from Woking and Chertsey, so that there was altogether quite a considerable crowd — one or two gaily dressed ladies among the others. It was glaringly hot, not a cloud in the sky, nor a breath of wind, and the only shadow was that of the few scattered pine-trees.

The burning heather had been extinguished, but the level ground towards Ottershaw was blackened as far as one could see, and still giving off vertical streamers of smoke. An enterprising sweetstuff dealer in the Chobham Road had sent up his son with a barrow-load of green apples and ginger-beer. Going to the edge of the pit, I found it occupied by a group of about half a dozen men — Henderson, Ogilvy, and a tall fair-haired man that I afterwards learned was Stent, the Astronomer Royal, with sev- eral workmen wielding spades and pickaxes.

Stent was giving directions in a clear, high-pitched voice. He was standing on the cylinder, which was now evidently much cooler; his face was crimson and streaming with perspiration, and something seemed to have irritated him. A large portion of the cylinder had been uncover- ed, though its lower end was still embedded. As soon as Ogilvy saw me among the staring crowd on the edge of the pit, he called to me to come down, and asked me if I would mind going over to see Lord Hilton, the lord of the manor.

The growing crowd, he said, was becoming a serious impediment to their excavations, especially the boys. They wanted a light railing put up, and help to keep the people back. He told me that a faint stirring was occasionally still audible within the case, but that the workmen had failed to un- screw the top, as it afforded no grip to them. The case appeared to be enormously thick, and it was possible that the faint sounds we heard represented a noisy tumult in the interior.

I was very glad to do as he asked, and so become one of the privileged spectators within the contem- plated enclosure. I failed to find Lord Hilton at his house, but I was told he was expected from London by the six o'clock train from Waterloo; and as it was then about a quarter past five, I went home, had some tea, and walked up to the station to way- lay him.

Scattered groups were hurrying from the direction of Woking, and one or two persons were returning. The crowd about the pit had increased, and stood out black against the lemon-yellow of the sky — a couple of hundred people perhaps.

There were a number of voices raised, and some sort of struggle appeared to be going on about the pit. Strange imaginings passed through my mind. As I drew nearer I heard Stent's voice: "Keep back! Keep back! I don't like it. I'm a- goin' 'orae, I am. There were really, I should think, two or three hundred people elbowing and jostling one another, the one or two ladies there being by no means the least active. The crowd swayed a little, and I elbowed my way through.

Everyone seemed greatly excited. I heard a peculiar humming sound from the pit. We don't know what's in the confounded thing, you know! The crowd had pushed him in. The end of the cylinder was being screwed out from within. Nearly two feet of shining screw pro- jected. Somebody blundered against me, and I nar- rowly missed being pitched on to the top of the screw.

I turned, and as I did so the screw must have come out, and the lid of the cylinder fell upon the gravel with a ringing concussion. I stuck my elbow into the person behind me, and turned my head towards the Thing again. For a moment that circular cavity seemed perfectly black. I had the sunset in my eyes. I think everyone expected to see a man emerge — possibly something a little unlike us terrestrial men, but in all essentials a man.

I know I did. But, looking, I presently saw something stirring within the shadow — grayish billowy movements, one above another, and then two luminous discs like eyes. Then something resembling a little snake, about the thickness of a walking-stick, coiled up out of the writhing middle, and wriggled in the air to- wards me — and then another. A sudden chill came over me. There was a loud shriek from a woman behind. I half turned, keep- ing my eyes fixed upon the cylinder still, from which other tentacles were now projecting, and be- gan pushing my way back from the edge of the pit.

I saw astonishment giving place to horror on the faces of the people about me. I heard inarticu- late exclamations on all sides. There was a gen- eral movement backward. I saw the shopman struggling still on the edge of the pit. I found myself alone, and saw the people on the other side of the pit running off, Stent among them.

I looked again at the cylinder, and ungovernable terror gripped me. I stood petrified and staring. A big grayish, rounded bulk, the size, perhaps, of a bear, was rising slowly and painfully out of the cylinder. As it bulged up and caught the light, it glistened like wet leather. Two large dark-colored eyes were regarding me steadfastly.

It was rounded, and had, one might say, a face. There was a mouth under the eyes, the lipless brim of which quivered and panted, and dropped saliva. The body heaved and pulsated convulsively. A lank tentacular appendage gripped the edge of the cylin- der, another swayed in the air. Those who have never seen a living Martian can scarcely imagine the strange horror of their ap- pearance. The peculiar V-shaped mouth with its pointed upper lip, the absence of brow ridges, the absence of a chin beneath, the wedge-like lower lip.

There was something fungoid in the oily brown skin, something in the clumsy deliberation of their tedi- ous movements unspeakably terrible. Even at this first encounter, this first glimpse, I was overcome with disgust and dread. It had toppled over the brim of the cylinder and fallen into the pit, with a thud like the fall of a great mass of leather.

I heard it give a peculiar thick cry, and forthwith another of these creatures ap- peared darkly in the deep shadow of the aperture. At that my rigour of terror passed away. I turned and, running madly, made for the first group of trees, perhaps a hundred yards away; but I ran slantingly and stumbling, for I could not avert my face from these things.

There, among some young pine-trees and furze bushes, I stopped, panting, and waited further de- velopments. The common round the sand-pits was dotted with people, standing, like myself, in a half- fascinated terror, staring at these creatures, or, rather, at the heaped gravel at the edge of the pit in which they lay. And then with a renewed hor- ror, I saw a round, black object bobbing up and down on the edge of the pit. It was the head of the shopman who had fallen in, but showing as a little black object against the hot western sky.

Now he got his shoulder and knee up, and again he seemed to slip back until only his head was visible. Suddenly he vanished, and I could have fancied a faint shriek had reached me. I had a momentary impulse to go back and help him that my fears overruled.

Everything was then quite invisible, hidden by the deep pit and the heap of sand that the fall of the cylinder had made. Anyone coming along the road from Chobham or Woking would have been amazed at the sight — a dwindling multitude of per- haps a hundred people or more standing in a great irregular circle, in ditches, behind bushes, behind gates and hedges, saying little to one another, and that in short, excited shouts, and staring, staring hard at a few heaps of sand.

The barrow of gin- ger-beer stood, a queer derelict, black against the burning sky, and in the sand-pits was a row of deserted vehicles with their horses feeding out of nose-bags or pawing the ground. I re- mained standing knee-deep in the heather, staring at the mound that hid them.

I was a battle- ground of fear and curiosity. I did not dare to go back toward the pit, but I felt a passionate longing to peer into it. I began walking, therefore, in a big curve, seeking some point of vantage, and continually looking at the sand-heaps that hid these new-comers to our earth. Once a leash of thin black whips, like the arms of an octopus, flashed across the sunset and was im- mediately withdrawn, and afterwards a thin rod rose up, joint by joint, bearing at its apex a circu- lar disc that spun with a wobbling motion.

What could be going on there? Most of the spectators had gathered in one or two groups — one a little crowd towards Woking, the other a knot of people in the direction of Chob- ham. Evidently they shared my mental conflict. There were few near me. One man I approached — he was, I perceived, a neighbour of mine, though I did not know his name — and accosted. But it was scarcely a time for articulate conversation. We became silent, and stood watching for a time side by side, deriv- ing, I fancy, a certain comfort in one another's company.

Then I shifted my position to a little knoll that gave me the advantage of a yard or more of elevation, and when I looked for him presently he was walking towards Woking. The sunset faded to twilight before anything further happened. The crowd far away on the left, towards Woking, seemed to grow, and I heard now a faint murmur from it. The little knot of people towards Chobham dispersed. There was scarcely an intimation of movement from the pit. It was this, as much as anything, that gave people courage, and I suppose the new arrivals from Woking also helped to restore confidence.

At any rate, as the dusk came on, a slow intermittent movement upon the sand-pits began, a movement that seemed to gather force as the stillness of the evening about the cylinder remained unbroken. Vertical black figures in twos and threes would ad- vance, stop, watch, and advance again, spreading out as they did so in a thin irregular crescent that promised to enclose the pit in its attenuated horns. I, too, on my side began to move towards the pit.

Then I saw some cabmen and others had walked boldly into the sand-pits, and heard the clatter of hoofs and the grind of wheels. I saw a lad trund- ling off the barrow of apples. And then, within thirty yards of the pit, advancing from the direc- tion of Horsell I noted a little black knot of men, the foremost of whom was waving a white flag.

This was the Deputation. There had been a hasty consultation, and, since the Martians were evidently, in spite of their repulsive forms, intelli- gent creatures, it had been resolved to show them, by approaching them with signals, that we, too, were intelligent.

Flutter, flutter, went the flag, first to the right, then to the left. It was too far for me to recogr nize anyone there, but afterwards I learned that Ogilvy, Stent, and Henderson were with others in this attempt at communication. Suddenly there was a flash of light, and a quantity of luminous greenish smoke came out of the pit in three distinct puffs, which drove up, one after the other, straight into the still air.

This smoke or flame, perhaps, would be the better word for it was so bright that the deep blue sky overhead, and the hazy stretches of brown common towards Chertsey, set with black pine- trees, seemed to darken abruptly as these puffs arose, and to remain the darker after their dis- persal.

At the same time a faint hissing sound became audible. BEYOND the pit stood the little wedge of people, with the white flag at its apex, arrested by these phenomena, a little knot of small vertical black shapes upon the black ground. As the green smoke rose, their faces flashed out pallid green, and faded again as it vanished. Then slowly the hissing passed into a humming, into a long, loud, droning noise. Slowly a humped shape rose out of the pit, and the ghost of a beam of light seemed to flicker out from it.

It was as if some invisible jet impinged upon them and flashed into white flame. It was as if each man were suddenly and momentarily turned to fire. Then, by the light of their own destruction, I saw them staggering and falling, and their sup- porters turning to run.

I stood staring, not as yet realizing that this was death leaping from man to man in that little distant crowd. All I felt was that it was some- thing strange. An almost noiseless and blinding flash of light, and a man fell headlong and lay still, and as the unseen shaft of heat passed over them, pine-trees burst into fire, and every dry furze-bush became with one dull thud a mass of flames. And far away towards Knaphill I saw the flashes of trees and hedges and wooden build- ings suddenly set alight.

It was sweeping round swiftly and steadily, this flaming death, this invisible, inevitable sword of heat. I perceived it coming towards me by the flashing bushes it touched, and was too astounded and stupefied to stir. I heard the crackle of fire in the sand-pits and the sudden squeal of a horse that was as suddenly stilled.

Then it was as if an invisible yet intensely heated finger was drawn through the heather between me and the Martians, and all along a curving line beyond the sand-pits the dark ground smoked and crackled. Something fell with a crash, far away to the left where the road from Woking Station opens out on the com- mon. Forthwith the hissing and humming ceased, and the black, dome-like object sank slowly out of sight into the pit.

All this had happened with such swiftness that I had stood motionless, dumfounded and dazzled by the flashes of light. Had that death swept through a full circle, it must inevitably have slain me in my surprise. But it passed and spared me, and left the night about me suddenly dark and un- familiar.

The undulating common seemed now dark almost to blackness, except where its roadways lay gray and pale under the deep-blue sky of the early night. It was dark, and suddenly void of men. Overhead the stars were mustering, and in the west the sky was still a pale, bright, almost greenish blue.

The tops of the pine-trees and the roofs of Horsell came out sharp and black against the western after- glow. The Martians and their appliances were al- together invisible, save for that thin mast upon which their restless mirror wobbled. Patches of bush and isolated trees here and there smoked and glowed still, and the houses towards Woking Station were sending up spires of flame into the stillness of the evening air.

Nothing was changed save for that and a terrible astonishment. The little group of black specks with the flag of white had been swept out of exis- tence, and the stillness of the evening, so it seemed to me, had scarcely been broken. It came to me that I was upon this dark com- mon, helpless, unprotected and alone. Suddenly like a thing falling upon me from without came — Fear.

With an effort I turned and began a stumbling run through the heather. The fear I felt was no rational fear but a panic terror, not only of the Martians, but of the dusk and stillness all about me. Such an extraordinary effect in unmanning me it had that I ran weeping silently as a child might do.

Once I had turned, I did not dare to look back. I remember I felt an extraordinary persuasion that I was being played with, that presently, when I was upon the very verge of safety, this mysteri- ous death — as swift as the passage of light — would leap after me from the pit about the cylinder, and strike me down. Many think that in some way.

This intense heat they project in a parallel beam against any object they choose by means of a polished parabolic mirror of unknown composition — much as the parabolic mirror of a lighthouse projects a beam of light. But no one has absolutely proved these details. However it is done, it is certain that a beam of heat is the essence of the matter.

Heat, and in- visible, instead of visible light. Whatever is com- bustible flashes into flame at its touch, lead runs like water, it softens iron, cracks and melts glass, and when it falls upon water incontinently that ex- plodes into steam. That night nearly forty people lay under the starlight about the pit, charred and distorted be- yond recognition, and all night long the common from Horsell to Maybury was deserted, and brightly ablaze.

In Woking the shops had closed when the tragedy happened, and a number of people, shop- people and so forth, attracted by the stories they had heard, were walking over Horsell Bridge and along the road between the hedges that run out at last upon the common. You may imagine the young people brushed up after the labors of the day, and making this novelty, as they would make any novelty, the excuse for walking together and enjoying a trivial flirtation.

You may figure to yourself the hum of voices along the road in the gloaming. As yet, of course, few people in Woking even knew that the cylinder had opened, though poor Henderson had sent a messenger on a bicycle to the post-office with a special wire to an evening paper.

As these folks came out by twos and threes upon the open they found little knots of people talking excitedly, and peering at the spinning mirror over the sand-pits, and the new-comers were, no doubt, soon infected by the excitement of the occasion. By half-past eight, when the Deputation was de- stroyed, there may have been a crowd of people or more at this place, besides those who had left the road to approach the Martians nearer. There were three policemen, too, one of whom was mounted, doing their best, under instructions from Stent, to keep the people back and deter them from approaching the cylinder.

There was some booing from those more thoughtless and excitable souls to whom a crowd is always an occasion for noise and horse-play. Stent and Ogilvy, anticipating some possibilities of a collision, had telegraphed from Horsell to the barracks as soon as the Martians emerged, for the help of a company of soldiers to protect these strange creatures from violence. After that they returned to lead that ill-fated advance. The de- scription of their death, as it was seen by the crowd, tallies very closely with my own impres- sions: the three puffs of green smoke, the deep humming note, and the flashes of flame.

But that crowd of people had a far narrower escape than mine. Only the fact that a hummock of heathery sand intercepted the lower part of the Heat-Ray saved them. Had the elevation of the parabolic mirror been a few yards higher, none could have lived to tell the tale.

They saw the flashes, and the men falling, and an invisible hand, as it were, lit the bushes as it hurried towards them through the twilight. Then, with a whistling note that rose above the droning of the pit, the beam swung close over their heads, lighting the tops of the beech-trees that line the road, and splitting the bricks, smashing the windows, firing the window- frames, and bringing down in crumbling ruin a portion of the gable of the house nearest the corner.

In the sudden thud, hiss and glare of the igniting trees, the panic-stricken crowd seems to have swayed hesitatingly for some moments. Sparks and burning twigs began to fall into the road, and single leaves like puffs of flame.

Hats and dresses caught fire. Then came a crying from the common. There were shrieks and shouts, and suddenly a mounted policeman came galloping through the confusion with his hands clasped over his head, screaming.

They must have bolted as blindly as a flock of sheep. Where the road grows narrow and black between the high banks the crowd jammed and a desperate struggle occurred. All that crowd did not escape; three persons at least, two women and a little boy, were crushed and trampled there and left to die amidst the terror and the darkness. All about me gathered the invisible terrors of the Mar- tians; that pitiless sword of heat seemed whirling to and fro, flourishing overhead before it descended and smote me out of life.

I came into the road be- tween the cross-roads and Horsell, and ran along this to the cross-roads. At last I could go no further; I was exhausted with the violence of my emotion and of my flight, and I staggered and fell by the wayside. That was near the bridge that crosses the canal by the gas- works. I fell and lay still. I must have remained there some time. I sat up, strangely perplexed. For a moment, perhaps, I could not clearly understand how I came there.

My terror had fallen from me like a gar- ment. My hat had gone, and my collar had burst away from its stud. A few minutes before there had only been three real things before me — the immensity of the night and space and nature, my own feebleness and anguish, and the near approach of death. Now it was as if something turned over, and the point of view altered abruptly.

There was no sensible transition from one state of mind to the other. I was immediately the self of every day again, a decent ordinary citizen. The silent common, the impulse of my flight, the starting flames, were as if it were a dream. I asked myself had these latter things indeed happened.

I could not credit it. I rose and walked unsteadily up the steep incline of the bridge. My mind was blank wonder. My muscles and nerve3 seemed drained of their strength. I dare say I staggered drunkenly. A head rose over the arch, and the figure of a work- man carrying a basket appeared. Beside him ran a little boy. He passed me, wishing me good- night.

I was minded to speak to him, and did not. I answered his greeting with a meaningless mumble and went on over the bridge. Over the Maybury arch a train, a billowing tumult of white, firelit smoke, and a long cater- pillar of lighted windows, went flying south: clat- ter, clatter, clap, rap, and it had gone. A dim group of people talked in the gate of one of the houses in the pretty little row of gables that was called Oriental Terrace.

It was all so real and so familiar. And that behind me! It was frantic, fantastic! Such things, I told myself, could not be. I do not know how far my experience is common. At times I suffer from the strangest sense of de- tachment from myself and the world about me; I seem to watch it all from the outside, from some- where inconceivably remote, out of time, out of space, out of the stress and tragedy of it all. This feeling was very strong upon me that night. Here was another side to my dream.

But the trouble was the blank incongruity of this serenity and the swift death flying yonder, not two miles away. There was a noise of business from the gasworks and the electric lamps were all alight. I stopped at the group of people. There were two men and a woman at the gate. I felt foolish and angry. I tried and found I could not tell them what I had seen. They laughed again at my broken sentences.

I went into the dining-room, sat down, drank. The dinner, which was a cold one, had already been served, and remained neglected on the table while I told my story. They may keep the pit and kill people who come near them, but they cannot get out of it. But the horror of them! When I saw how deadly white her face was, I ceased abruptly. I pressed her to take wine, and tried to reassure her. I began to comfort her and myself by repeating all that Ogilvy had told me of the impossibility of the Martians establishing themselves on the earth.

In particular I laid stress on the gravitational diffi- culty. On the surface of the earth the force of gravity is three times what it is on the surface of Mars. A Martian, therefore, would weigh three times more than on Mars, albeit his muscular strength would be the same. His own body would be a cope of lead to him, therefore. That indeed was the general opinion.

Both the Times and the Daily Telegraph, for instance, insisted on it the next morning, and both overlooked, just as I did, two obvious modifying influences. The atmosphere of the earth, we now know, con- tains far more oxygen or far less nitrogen which- ever way one likes to put it than does Mars. The invigorating influences of this excess of oxygen upon the Martians indisputably did much to count- erbalance the increased weight of their bodies. And, in the second place, we all overlooked the fact that such mechanical intelligence as the Martian possessed was quite able to dispense with muscu- lar exertion at a pinch.

But I did not consider these points at the time, and so my reasoning was dead against the chances of the invaders. With wine and food, the confi- dence of my own table, and the necessity of reas- suring my wife, I gnw, by insensible degrees, courageous and secure. Perhaps they expected to find no living things — certainly no in- telligent living things.

A shell in the pit," said I, "if the worst comes to the worst, will kill them all. I remember that dinner-table with ex- traordinary vividness even now. My dear wife's sweet, anxious face peering at me from under the pink lamp-shade, the white cloth with its silver and glass table furniture — for in those days even philosophical writers had many little luxuries — the crimson-purple wine in my glass, are photographi- cally distinct. At the end of it I sat, tempering nuts with a cigarette, regretting Ogilvy's rashness, and denouncing the short-sighted timidity of the Martians.

So some respectable dodo in the Mauritius might have lorded it in his nest, and discussed the ar- rival of that shipful of pitiless sailors in want of animal food. CHAPTER VIII Friday Night THE most extraordinary thing to my mind, of all the strange and wonderful things that happened upon that Friday, was the dove- tailing of the commonplace habits of our social order with the first beginnings of the series of events that was to topple that social order head- long. If on Friday night you had taken a pair of compasses and drawn a circle with a radius of five miles round the Woking sand-pits, I doubt if you would have had one human being outside it, unless it was some relation of Stent or of the three or four cyclists or London people who lay dead on the common, whose emotions or habits were not at all affected by the new-comers.

Many people had heard of the cylinder, of course, and talked about it in their leisure, but it certainly did not make the sensation an ultimatum to Germany would have done. In London that night poor Henderson's telegram AMAZING STORIES describing the gradual unscrewing of the shot was judged to be a canard, and his evening paper, after wiring for authentication from him and receiving no reply — the man was killed — decided not to print a special edition.

Within the five-mile circle even the great ma- jority of people were inert. I have already de- scribed the behaviour of the men and women to whom I spoke. All over the district people were dining and supping; working-men were gardening after the labors of the day, children' were being put to bed, young people were wandering through the lanes love-making, students sat over their books. Maybe there was a murmur in the village streets, a novel and dominant topic in the public-houses, and here and there a messenger, or even an eye- witness of the later occurrences, caused a whirl of excitement, a shouting and a running to and fro; but for the most part the daily routine of working, eating, drinking, sleeping, went on as it had done for countless years — as though no planet Mars existed in the sky.

Even at Woking Station and Horsell and Chobham that was the case. In Woking Junction, until a late hour, trains were stopping and going on, others were shunting on the sidings, passengers were alighting and wait- ing, and everything was proceeding in the most ordinary way. A boy from town, trenching on Smith's monopoly, was selling papers with the afternoon's news.

The ringing and impact of trucks, the sharp whistle of the engines from the junction, mingled with his shouts of "Men from Mars! People rattling Londonwards peered into the dark- ness outside the carriage windows and saw only a rare, flickering, vanishing spark dance up from the direction of Horsell, a red glow and a thin veil of smoke driving across the stars, and thought that nothing more serious than a heath fire was hap- pening.

It was only around the edge of the common that any disturbance was perceptible. There were half a dozen villas burning on the Woking border. There were lights in all the houses on the common side of the three villages, and the people there kept awake till dawn.

A curious crowd lingered restlessly, people com- ing and going but the crowd remaining, both on the Chobham and Horsell bridges. One or two adventurous souls, it was afterwards found, went into the darkness and crawled quite near the Mar- tians, but they never returned, for now and again a light-ray, like the beam of a warship's search- light, swept the common, and the Heat-Ray was ready to follow.

Save for such, that big area of common was silent and desolate, and the charred bodies lay about on it all night under the stars, and all the next day. A noise of hammering from the pit was heard by many people. SO you have the state of things on Friday night. In the centre, sticking into the skin of our old planet Earth like a poisoned dart, was this cylin- der. But the poison was scarcely working yet. Around it was a patch of silent common, smoulder- ing in places, and with a few dark, dimly-seen objects lying in contorted attitudes here and there.

Here and there was a burning bush or tree. Beyond was a fringe of excitement, and further than that fringe the inflammation had not crept as yet. In the rest of the world the stream of life still flowed as it had flowed for immemorial years. The fever of war that would presently clog vein and artery, deaden nerve and destroy brain, had still to de- velop. All night long the Martians were hammering and stirring, sleepless, indefatigable, at work upon the machines they were making ready, and ever and again a puff of greenish-white smoke whirled up to the starlit sky.

About eleven a company of soldiers came through Horsell, and deployed along the edge of the com- mon to form a cordon. Later a second company marched through Chobham to deploy on the north side of the common. Several officers from the Inkerman barracks had been on the common earlier in the day, and one, Major Eden, was reported to be missing. The Colonel of the regiment came to the Chobham bridge, and was busy questioning the crowd at midnight.

The military authorities were certainly alive to the seriousness of th'e busi- ness. About eleven, the next morning's papers were able to say, a squadron of hussars, two Maxims, and about men of the Cardigan regi- ment, started from Aldershot. A few seconds after midnight the crowd in the Chertsey road, Woking, saw a star fall from heaven into the pine-woods to the north-west.

It fell with a greenish light, causing a flash of light like sum- mer lightning. This was the second cylinder. It was a day of lassitude too, hot and close, with, I am told, a rapidly fluctu- ating barometer. I had slept but little, though my wife had succeeded in sleeping, and I rose early.

I went into my garden before breakfast, and stood listening, but towards the common there was noth- ing stirring but a lark. The milkman came as usual. I heard the rattle of his chariot, and I went round to the side-gate to ask the latest news. He told me that»during the night the Martians had been surrounded by troops, and that guns were expected. Then, a familiar reassuring note, I heard a train running towards Woking. It was a most unexceptional morning.

My neighbor was of opinion that the troops would be able to capture or to destroy the Martians during the day. But one's enough, surely. This lot'Il cost the insurance people a pretty penny before everything's settled. The woods, he said, were still burning, and pointed out a haze of smoke to me.

Under the railway-bridge I found a group of soldiers — sap- pers, I think, men in small round caps, dirty red jackets unbuttoned, and showing their blue shirts, dark trousers, and boots coming to the calf. They told me no one was allowed over the canal, and, looking along the road towards the bridge, I saw one of the Cardigan men standing sentinel there. I talked with those soldiers for a time; I told them of my sight of the Martians on the previous eve- ning.

None of them had seen the Martians, and they had but the vaguest ideas of them, so that they plied me with questions. They said that they did not know who had authorized the movements of the troops; their idea was that a dispute had arisen at the Horse Guards. The ordinary sapper is a great deal better educated than the common soldier, and they discussed the peculiar conditions of the possible fight with some acuteness. I de- scribed the Heat-Ray to them, and they began to argue among themselves.

Sticks to cook yer! What we got to do is to go as near as the ground'll let us, and then drive a trench. You always want trenches; you ought to ha' been born a rabbit. I repeated my description. Talk about fishers of men— fighters of fish it is this time! Do it in a rush, that's my tip, and do it at once. After a while I left them, and went on to the railway-station to get as many morning papers as I could. But I will not weary the reader with a descrip- tion of that long morning and of the longer after- noon.

I did not succeed in getting a glimpse of the common, for even Horsell and Chobham church towers were in the hands of the military authori- ties. The soldiers I addressed didn't know any- thing; the officers were mysterious as well as busy. I found people in the town quite secure again in the presence of the military, and 1 heard for the first time from Marshall, the tobacconist, that his son was among the dead on the common.

The soldiers had made the people on the outskirts of Horsell lock up and leave their houses. T GOT back to lunch about two, very tired, for, A as I have said, the day was extremely hot and dull, and in order to refresh myself I took a cold bath in the afternoon. About half-past four I went up to the railway-station to get an evening paper, for the morning papers had contained only a very inaccurate description of the killing of Stent, Hen- derson, Ogilvy, and the others.

But there was little I didn't know. The Martians did not show an inch of themselves. They seemed busy in their pit, and there was a sound of hammering and an almost continuous streamer of smoke. Apparently, they were busy getting ready for a struggle. A sapper told me it was done by a man in a ditch with a flag on a long pole. The Martians took as much notice of such advances as we should of the lowing of a cow.

I must confess the sight of all this armament, all this preparation, greatly excited me. My imag- ination became belligerent, and defeated the in- vaders in a dozen striking ways; something of my schoolboy dreams of battle and heroism came back.

It hardly seemed a fair fight, to me at that time. They seemed very helpless in this pit of theirs. About three o'clock there began the thud of a gun at measured intervals from Chertsey or Addle- stone. I learned that the smouldering pine-wood into which the second cylinder had fallen was being shelled, in the hope of destroying that object before it opened. It was only about five, however, that a field-gun reached Chobham for use against the first body of Martians. About six in the evening, as I sat at tea with my wife in the summer-house talking vigorously about the battle that was lowering upon us, I heard a muffled detonation from the common, and immediately after a gust of firing.

Close on the heels of that came a violent, rattling crash, quite close to us, that shook the ground; and, starting out upon the lawn, I saw the tops of the trees about the Oriental College burst into smoky red flame, and the tower of the little church beside it slide down into ruin.

The pinnacle of the mosque had vanished, and the roof-line of the college itself looked as if a hundred-ton gun had been at work upon it. One of our chimneys cracked as if a shot had hit it, flew, and the piece of it came clat- tering down the tiles and made a heap of broken red fragments upon the flower-bed by my study window.

I and my wife stood amazed. Then I realized that the crest of Maybury Hill must be within range of the Martians' Heat-Ray now that the col- lege was cleared out of the way. At that I gripped my wife's arm, and without ceremony ran her out into the road.

I thought, perplexed. Then I remembered her cousins at Leatherhead. She looked away from me downhill. The people were coming out of their houses astonished. Down the hill I saw a bevy of hussars ride under the railway-bridge; three galloped through the open gates of the Oriental College; two others dis- mounted, and began running from house to house.

The sun, shining through the smoke that drove up from the tops of the trees, seemed blood-red, and threw an unfamiliar lurid light upon everything. I ran, for I perceived that in a moment everyone upon this side of the hill would be moving. I found him in his bar, quite unaware of what was going on behind his house. A man stood with his back to me, talking to him.

I'm selling my bit of a pig. Two pounds, and you bring it back? What's going on now? At the time it did not seem to me nearly so urgent that the landlord should leave his. The beech-trees below the house were burning while I did this, and the palings up the road glowed red.

While I was oc- cupied in this way, one of the dismounted hussars came running up. He was going from house to house, warning people to leave. He was going on as I came out of my front-door, lugging my treas- ures, done up in a table-cloth. I shouted after him: "What news? A sudden whirl of black smoke driving across the road hid him for a moment. I ran to my neigh- bor's door, and rapped to satisfy myself, what I already knew, that his wife had gone to London with him, and had locked up their house.

I went in again according to my promise to get my servant's box, lugged it out, clapped it beside her on the tail of the dogcart, and then caught the reins and jumped up into the driver's seat beside my wife.

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