I dream of a day when they may rise above the billows to drag down in their reeking talons the remnants of puny, war exhausted mankind-of a day when the land shall sink, and the dark ocean floor shall ascend amidst universal pandemonium. The end is near. I hear a noise at the door, as of some immense slippery body lumbering against it. It shall not find me. God,that hand! The window! The window!
Dazed and frightened, yet not without a certain thrill of the scientists or archaeologists delight, I examined my surroundings more closely. The moon, now near the zenith, shone weirdly and vividly above the towering steeps that hemmed in the chasm, and revealed the fact that a far-flung body of water flowed at the bottom, winding out of sight in both directions, and almost lapping my feet as I stood on the slope. Across the chasm, the wavelets washed the base of the Cyclopean monolith, on whose surface I could now trace both inscriptions and crude sculptures. The writing was in a system of hieroglyphics unknown to me, and my mom got scared. She said you're moving with your auntie and uncle in bel Air.
