Prev | Current Page 210 | Next

Reed, Myrtle, 1874-1911

"Old Rose and Silver"


How still it was! The silence of eternity was in that all compassing
dark, which reached to the uttermost boundaries of space. It was hollow
and empty, save for him, rising and falling, rising and falling, in a
series of regular movements corresponding almost exactly to the ticking
of a watch.
A faint, sickening odour crept through the darkness, followed by a black
overwhelming shadow which threatened to engulf him in its depths. Still
swaying, he waited for it calmly. All at once it was upon him, but
swiftly receded. He seemed to sway backward out of it, and as he looked
back upon it, gathering its forces for another attack, he saw that it
was different from the darkness upon which he lay--that, instead of
black, it was a deep purple.
The odour persisted and almost nauseated him. It was vaguely familiar,
though he had never before come into intimate contact with it. Was it
the purple shadow, that ebbed and flowed so strangely upon his dark
horizon, growing to a brighter purple with each movement?
The purple grew very bright, then deepened to blue--almost black.


Pages:
198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222