|
My eyes grew more accustomed to the gloom with every second.
More details leapt into my vision, more comprehension clarified eachsquare inch or foot of what I beheld! For around each true soul, adozen figures that danced or sang or wailed were no more thanimages projected from that soul and to that soul for it to commune with.
The horrid figure of a woman consumed in flames was no morethan a chimera for the howling souls who plunged into the fire, seekingto free her from the stake, to stamp out the flames that ate herr, 10 rescue ner rrom ner unspeakable agony! It was the WitchesPlace. They were all burning! Save them! Oh, God, her hair is onfire!
Indeed the soldiers stoking the cannon and covering their earsnow as they made the shot were but an illusion for those true legionsweeping on their knees, and a hulk of a giant wielding an ax was but aphantom for those who stared at him in recognition and stupification,seeing in him themselves.
"I cannot... I cannot look!"Monstrous images of murder, torture, flashed before me so hotthey burnt my face. Phantoms were dragged to their deaths in pots ofboiling pitch, solders sank on their knees, eyes wide, a prince of somelost Persian kingdom screamed and leapt into the air, his arms out,his black eyes full of reflected fire.
The wails, the whispers, took on the urgency of protest, and question,and discovery. All around were particular voices if only one hadthe courage to hear, to pick the themes fine as steel thread from theraging dirge.
"Yes, yes, and I thought, and I knew . . .""... my darlings, my little ones ...""... into your arms, because you didn't, you never . ..""... and I all the time I thought and you .. .""Love you, love you, love you, yes, and always . . . and no, youdidn't know. You didn't know, you didn't know."". . . and always thought that it was what I should, but I knew, Ifelt...""... the courage to turn and say that it wasn't. ..""We didn't know! We didn't know."It was blended finally into that one incessant cry.
We Did Not Know!
Before me the wall of a mosque rose, crowded with those screamingand covering their heads as the plaster came down upon them,the roar of the artillery deafening. Phantoms all.
We didn't know, we didn't know, the voices of the souls wailed.
The Helpful Dead gathered on their knees, tears streaming downtheir faces ... "Yes, we understand, you understand.""And that year, just to go home then and be with ...""Yes.. ."I fell forward, my foot striking a rock, and pitching me into themiddle of a swarm of soldiers on their hands and knees, weeping asthey clutched at one another and the wraithlike phantoms of theconquered, the slain, the starved, all rocking and crying together in onevoice.
There came a chain of explosions, each more violent than the onebefore, such as only the modern world can make. The sky was light asday if day could be colorless and merciless and then dissolve intoflickering darkness.
Darkness Visible.
"Help, help me out of this," I cried, but they didn't seem to hearor notice my screams, and when I looked for Memnoch, I saw only apair of elevator doors slide open suddenly, and before me loomed agreat modern room full of elaborate chandeliers and buffed floorsand carpets without end. The hard polished glitter of our machine-made world. Roger came running towards me.
Roger, in all his dandified finery of purple silk jacket and tightlytailored pants, of perfumed hair, and manicured hands.
"Lestat," he cried. "Terry is here, they are here. Lestat." Heclung to my coat, the very eyes I'd seen in the ghost and in the humanin my arms, staring at me, breath on my face, the room dissolvinginto smoke, the dim spirit of Terry with her bright bottle-blond hair,throwing her arms about his neck, her face open with amazement,her pink lips speechless, Memnoch's wing touching down, shuttingme off from them, the floor cracking open.
"I wanted to tell him about the veil. ..." I insisted. I struggled.
Memnoch held me.
"This way!"The heavens opened with another fiery shower of sparks and theclouds burst above, clashing together, the lightning touching downover our heads, and on came a thunderous deluge of cold and chillingrain.
"Oh God, oh, God, oh God!" I cried. "This cannot be yourschool! God! I say no!""Look, lookl"He pointed to the figure of Roger on his hands and knees, turninglike a dog, amongst those he'd slain, men imploring him withoutstretched arms, women tearing open the cloth of their dresses toshow the wounds, the chatter of voices rising perilously as if thesound of Hell itself would suddenly explode, and Terry梩he verysame Terry-with her her arms still around his neck. Roger lay on theground, his shirt torn open, his feet naked, the jungle rising aroundhim. Shots rang out in the dark. Crack of automatic guns spittingtheir numberless fatal bullets in unstinted fury. The lights of a houseflickered among vines, amid monstrous trees. Roger turned to me,trying to rise, sinking back on his leg, crying, the tears streamingdown his face.
144/163 首页 上一页 142 143 144 145 146 147 下一页 尾页
|
