Абрахам Меррит - Creep, Shadow!

I passed the marsh and came out upon a dim path that quickly widened into a broad highway which, wavering, stretched across an illimitable and cloudy plain. There were other shadow shapes upon this highway… shapes of men and women, old and young, shapes of children and of animals… but no shape inhuman or unearthly. They were like shapes formed of heavy fog… of frozen fog. They flittered and loitered, ran or stood forlorn… singly, in groups, in companies. And as they went by, or overtook me or I overtook them, I felt their gaze upon me. They seemed of all times and of all races, these shadow folk. There was a lean Egyptian priest upon whose shoulder sat a shadowy cat that arched its back and spat soundlessly at me… three Roman legionaries whose round, close-fitting helmets were darker stains upon their heads and who raised shadowy arms in the ancient salute as they strode past… there were Greek warriors with helms from which shadow plumes streamed, and shadowy women in litters carried by shadow slaves… and once a company of little men went by on shaggy silent ponies, spectral bows at backs, slant shadowy eyes glinting at me… and there was the shadow of a child that turned and trotted beside me for a space, reaching up its hands to the slender filament that was leading me… dragging me… where?

The road went on and on. It became ever more thronged with the shadow people, and I saw that many more were going my way than against me. Then at my right, out upon the vaporous plain, a wan light began to glow… phosphorescent, funereal… like the glimmer of the corposants, the lights of the dead… among the monoliths…

It became a half-moon that rested upon the plain like a gigantic gateway. It sent a path of ashen light across the plain, and from the highroad into that path, the shadow people began to stream. Not all – one that tarried paused beside me, gross of body, with plumed and conical hat and cloak that streamed and wavered in a wind I could not feel, as though by it his gross body were being whipped in tatters.

He whispered: "The Eater of Shadows eats from a full board."

I echoed, thinly: "The Eater of Shadows?"

I felt his gaze upon me, intent. He tittered in a voice like the rustling of rotting, poisonous leaves:

"Heh-heh-heh… a virgin! New born into this delectable world! You know nothing of the Eater of Shadows? Heh-heh-heh… but he is our only form of Death in this world, and many who weary of it go to him. This you do not yet fully perceive, since he has not made himself manifest. They are fools," he whispered, viciously. "They should learn, as I have learned, to take their food in the world from which they came. No shadow-food… no, no, no… good flesh and body and soul… soul, heh-heh-heh!"

A shadowy hand snatched at the shining filament, and recoiled, twisting as though seared… the gross shadow cringed and writhed as though in agony. The rustling voice became a vile high whining: "You are going to your marriage feast… going to your marriage bed. You will have your own table… a fair table of flesh and blood and soul… of life. Take me with you, bridegroom… take me with you. I can teach you so much! And my price is only a few crumbs from your table… only the smallest share in your bride…"

Something was gathering in the doorway of the half-moon; something forming upon its glimmering surface… fathomless black shadows were grouping themselves into a gigantic, featureless face. No, it was not featureless, for there were two apertures like eyes through which the wan phosphorescence shone. And there was a shapeless mouth which gaped while a writhing ribbon of the dead light streamed out of it like a tongue. The tongue licked among the shadows and drew them into the mouth, and the lips closed on them then opened again, and again the tongue licked out…

"Oh, my hunger! Oh, my thirst and hunger! Take me with you, bridegroom to your bride. There is so much I can teach you for such a little price…"

I struck at that gibbering shadow and fled from its dreadful whispering; fled with shadowy arms covering my eyes to shut out vision of that vague and dreadful face.

… Hunger, Shadow… feed only where and when I bid. Thirst, Shadow… drink only where and when I bid!…

And now I knew. I knew where the silver filament was dragging me, and I tore at it with shadowy hands, but could not break it. I tried to run back, against it, and it swung me around, dragging me inexorably on.

I knew now what the evil, tittering shadow had known… that I was on my way to food and drink… to my marriage feast… to my bride…

Helen!

It was on her body and blood and life my hunger was to be appeased, my thirst slaked.

Upon Helen!

The shadow-land lightened. It became crystalline. Heavier, blacker shadows thrust themselves within it. These steadied, and the land of shadows vanished.

I was in an old room. Helen was there, and Bill and McCann, and a man I did not know; a lean and dark man with thin, ascetic face and snow-white hair. But wait… that must be Ricori…

How long had I been in shadow-land?

Their voices came to me as a low humming, their words an unintelligible drone. I did not care what they were talking about. My whole being was focused upon Helen. I was starving for her, famishing for her… I must eat and drink of her…

I thought: If I do… she must die!

I thought: Let her die… I must eat and drink…

She raised her head, sharply. I knew that she was aware of me. She turned and looked straight at me. She saw me… I knew that she saw me. Her face whitened… then grew pitiful. The amber-gold of her eyes darkened with a wrath in which was complete comprehension… then became tender. Her little rounded chin hardened, her red mouth with its touch of the archaic became inscrutable. She arose and said something to the others. I saw them rise, staring at her incredulously – then search the room with their eyes. Except Ricori, who looked straight at her, stern face softened. And now words shaped themselves from the low humming of their voices. I heard Helen say:

"I fight Dahut. Give me an hour. I know what I am doing – " a wave of color spread over her face "-believe me, I know."

I saw Ricori bend and kiss her hand; he raised his head and there was iron assurance in the look he gave her… "And I know – win, Madonna… or if you lose, be sure that you shall be avenged."

She walked from the room. The shadow that was I crept after her.

She walked upstairs, and into another room. She turned on lights, hesitated, then locked the door behind her. She went to the windows and drew down the curtains. She held her arms out to me:

"Can you hear me, Alan? I can see you… faintly still, but more plainly than below. Can you hear me? Then come to me."

I quivered with desire for her… to eat and drink of her. But the voice of Dahut was in my ears, not to be disobeyed – Eat and drink… when I bid you.

I knew that the hunger must grow stronger, the thirst more consuming, before I could be loosed from that command. This so that only all the life of Helen could appease the hunger and slake the thirst. So that feeding, drinking… I killed her.

I whispered: "I hear you."

"I hear you, darling. Come to me."

"I cannot come to you – not yet. My thirst and hunger for you must grow greater… so that when I come to you – you die."

She dimmed the lights; raised her arms and loosed her hair so that it fell in shining red-gold ringlets almost to her waist. She asked: "What keeps you from me? From me who loves you… from me whom you love?"

"Dahut… you know that."

"Beloved – I do not know that. It is not true. None can keep you from me if I truly love you and if you truly love me. Both are true… and I say to you come to me, beloved… take me."