Війна світів
Dead London
Londonaboutmegazedatmespectrally. Thewindowsinthewhitehouseswereliketheeyesocketsofskulls. Aboutmemyimaginationfoundathousandnoiselessenemiesmoving. Terrorseizedme,ahorrorofmytemerity. Infrontofmetheroadbecamepitchyblackasthoughitwastarred,andIsawacontortedshapelyingacrossthepathway. Icouldnotbringmyselftogoon. IturneddownSt.John’sWoodRoad,andranheadlongfromthisunendurablestillnesstowardsKilburn. Ihidfromthenightandthesilence,untillongaftermidnight,inacabmen’sshelterinHarrowRoad. Butbeforethedawnmycouragereturned,andwhilethestarswerestillintheskyIturnedoncemoretowardsRegent’sPark. Imissedmywayamongthestreets,andpresentlysawdownalongavenue,inthehalf-lightoftheearlydawn,thecurveofPrimroseHill. Onthesummit,toweringuptothefadingstars,wasathirdMartian,erectandmotionlessliketheothers.
Aninsaneresolvepossessedme. Iwoulddieandendit. AndIwouldsavemyselfeventhetroubleofkillingmyself. ImarchedonrecklesslytowardsthisTitan,andthen,asIdrewnearerandthelightgrew,Isawthatamultitudeofblackbirdswascirclingandclusteringaboutthehood. Atthatmyheartgaveabound,andIbeganrunningalongtheroad.
IhurriedthroughtheredweedthatchokedSt.Edmund’sTerrace(Iwadedbreast-highacrossatorrentofwaterthatwasrushingdownfromthewaterworkstowardstheAlbertRoad),andemergeduponthegrassbeforetherisingofthesun. Greatmoundshadbeenheapedaboutthecrestofthehill,makingahugeredoubtofit—itwasthefinalandlargestplacetheMartianshadmade—andfrombehindtheseheapsthereroseathinsmokeagainstthesky. Againsttheskylineaneagerdogrananddisappeared. Thethoughtthathadflashedintomymindgrewreal,grewcredible.
