Цвет из иных миров

           Allthefarmwasshiningwiththehideousunknownblendofcolour;trees,buildings,andevensuchgrassandherbageashadnotbeenwhollychangedtolethalgreybrittleness.Theboughswereallstrainingskyward,tippedwithtonguesoffoulflame,andlambenttricklingsofthesamemonstrousfirewerecreepingabouttheridgepolesofthehouse,barn,andsheds.ItwasascenefromavisionofFuseli,andoveralltherestreignedthatriotofluminousamorphousness,thatalienandundimensionedrainbowofcrypticpoisonfromthewell—seething,feeling,lapping,reaching,scintillating,straining,andmalignlybubblinginitscosmicandunrecognisablechromaticism.

           Thenwithoutwarningthehideousthingshotverticallyuptowardtheskylikearocketormeteor,leavingbehindnotrailanddisappearingthrougharoundandcuriouslyregularholeinthecloudsbeforeanymancouldgasporcryout.Nowatchercaneverforgetthatsight,andAmmistaredblanklyatthestarsofCygnus,Denebtwinklingabovetheothers,wheretheunknowncolourhadmeltedintotheMilkyWay.Buthisgazewasthenextmomentcalledswiftlytoearthbythecracklinginthevalley.Itwasjustthat.Onlyawoodenrippingandcrackling,andnotanexplosion,assomanyothersofthepartyvowed.