beluosus | VMBRÆ (English translation)

     I haven’t much time left. I hope I can finish this account before dawn. I'll have to write quickly, for they won't wait that long, they who hate the light. Happily the autumn sun doesn’t rise too early.
     I can hardly believe I just wrote that last sentence; for the heat and light began to disappear fro the world, when the nights began to overcome the days, I lost the last of my hope. How quickly the summer has gone away. Perhaps you might wonder why, if I fear the gloom, I yet live in London. Because there is no refuge. And this great and gloomy city may in fact have hastened the end.
     It is necessary that I keep names hidden, lest rumours hurt the families left behind. Don’t ask who I was, nor who were any of the actors in this tragedy. It is enough that my warning be heard, that you do not provoke them. Beyond that nothing matters.

     I became aware of them last year, whilst I was travelling in Egypt. I do not know the exact date, for — how foolish was I! — I burnt my diary from this period. My brother, Doctor S–, and Lord L– jointly led an expedition for the EEF. I had received a letter from my brother in which he urged me to abandon the weariness of the city and meet up with him in Alexandria. He hinted that he had found something marvellous, but said nothing definite. He certainly knew how to provoke his sister's curiosity. Without hesitation and without any delay I packed my baggage, bought some cheap novels for the journey, and flew from the city. It was a brief and restful trip: a calm Channel, a quick train across France, a gentle sea. I felt no deep stirrings in my breast, save those of happiness. There was an absolute lack of ill omens.
     We had planned to meet in the finest hotel in Alexandria. He had left me a letter with the concierge; there was some business, he wrote, which detained him, but he hoped I would enjoy the delights of the city for a few days until he came to join me, the dearest of all sisters in the world. Truly I was impatient, awaiting the arrival of the most flattering brother in the world with his promised secret, but I forced myself to enjoy a bit of leisure whilst surrounded with beautiful antiquities.
     On the fifth day my brother finally arrived. He was well, but it seemed that he had overlong been a stranger to sleep. When I said that he should take better care of himself, he responded with mad laughter.
     "What do I care about," he said, "save the expedition? We've found something frightful! I never dared dream of... such great fortune. But I must not reveal our discovery here. You will see soon enough, my curious sister; I will say nothing beforehand.
     From Alexandria we travelled to a village whose name I either didn't know or don't remember, where the Doctor and Lord L– were waiting for us. They had raised a great army of workmen in the village, though it were yet necessary to lead them 100 miles into the desert. In an unguarded moment Doctor S– confessed to me that those who live in the vicinity of the ruins would not dig them, for they believe evil to lurk therein and no one, they say, has ever returned from that place in good health. At the time I laughed at the peasant superstition; if only I had heeded it!

     The army of men and camels set out into the desert. My brother gave me a small pistol, so that I need not have any fear of bandits. But none ever went into the desert, especially to the accursed ruins. we ought to have feared the very lack of bandits.
     After six days we made camp. Whilst Docotr S– and Lord L– were overseeing the workmen, my brother took me by the hand. "Come with me," he said. We ascended a rocky hill almost at a run. At the summit we looked down over a stony, sandy plain.
     "It will be night soon," he said, "but look: what do you see?"
     "I see my brother who's out of breath, and an empty plain, and sand, and rocks, and more sand, and... Oh!"

     Then my voice failed and I shuddered. A great well was situated in the midst of the plain, like the yawning mouth of hell. "I'm tired," I lied, "and I want to go lie down in my tent until supper."
     Not a single moment did I tarry but went down the hill and made for the camp. I didn't know what had bothered me nor why I wanted to flee. My brother followed in silence. He later brought my meagre supper to me in my tent. I spoke to no one the whole night.
     In the morning I was awakened by the prayers of the workmen. I crept through the camp and climbed the hill by myself. I watched as the shadow of the hill, with my own shadow atop it, slowly receded from the plain. Finally I saw my shadow disappear, swallowed up but the great well. "Thus," said I to myself, "it devours my soul." When my brother found me, my cheeks were moist with tears. "I've sand in my eyes," I said. And although he scarcely believed the lie, yet he remained silent.

I came back to my usual self at breakfast, so that once again I engaged in conversation. I was eager to learn everything I could about the well. My brother couldn't speak from nervous excitement; whether he was happy or sad I couldn't tell. So instead, Lord L– had to narrate the little tale.

"I bought a fragmentary Latin papyrus," he began, "in a market in Alexandria. The dealer, who knew me by reputation and whose infamy was hardly unknown to me, hinted that he had recently acquired a treasure most rare. 'I will only sell this treasure,' he said, 'to a most erudite man, such as you; to give such a papyrus to those ignorant treasure hunters would be a sin so great even I could not tolerate it.' 'So great a sin as that!' said I, laughing, 'Indeed, I can not help but be curious to know what sort of papyrus it be!'

"I bought the papyrus for a not inconsiderable sum. At first glance, I could barely read it, but I saw enough that I did not wish to pass over the knowledge hidden within — I couldn't! For maybe five days I hid away in my hotel room, labouring to extract words from the fragments. Having teased out the secret, I cried 'eureka!' and then promptly passed out.
"The papyrus' author — if I may be permitted to gloss over the text — was a scout in the Legion II Traiana Fortis. Once when the legion was dispatched to hunt down some barbarian tribes, they found some strange ruins. They were not, he writes, Roman, nor Greek, nor Egyptian, nor Carthaginian, nor belonging to any other people or state known to the Roman world. He described the trip through the desert so exactingly that I believed I could discover the ruins myself.

     "And so I sent letters to your brother and the Doctor straight away, persuading them to make the expedition with me. We set out into the desert with a few servants, following my notes about the papyrus and an army map. We found the ruins, of course, but weren't sufficiently equipped to explore them. We had not thought to completely excavate the place, rather we had hoped to make the first map of it. As you can see, no map is necessary. We had not been expecting the well at all. We did try to descend into the well on ropes, but we hadn't any that were long enough.
     "When we returned to our camp, we found that the servants had fled. They had left us food and camels, but, as we later discovered, the accursed place had frightened them away. We decided therefore to return to Alexandria in order to equip a proper expedition. Doctor S– sent a wire to the EEF, but I put up the money myself. We recruited all the workmen either in Alexandria or its environs lest superstition hurt the expedition —"

     Here my brother interrupted Lord L–: "You forgot," said he, "to mention the stele."
     "So I did," said Lord L–. "Now, before we left the site, your brother bumped into a stele as he was walking about the well. And I mean it literally; at the time we feared he'd broken a toe. Most of the stele was hidden under the sand, but with his sharp eyes he discerned Greek letters in the stone. We unearthed the stele but, even though we could make out the letters, the meaning—"
     "The meaning," interrupted my brother, "was completely beyond us. It is because of this difficulty, O my sister, that we summoned you. For you are wonderfully clever at epigraphy, and you know your Greek better than do we."
     "Where is the stele?" I asked, moved by the account.
     "Beneath the sands," said doctor S–. "We didn't want anyone else to find it."
     "Why," I asked, "didn't you send me a copy? I could have prepared a translation en route."
     "We believe," said Lord L–, "that the stele bears a warning. We didn't want to scare you off."
     "Do you think me such a silly woman that I'd be frightened by ancient superstition?"
     "Not at all, my lady," said Lord L–, "But you've seen the well. Rather, you've felt the well. Do you deny that you felt a sort of... supernatural power?"
     "I don't deny it..."
     "Finish your breakfast," said my brother. "I'll have the servants make coffee. The fellahs make it better here than anyone in London, truly, even better than in Italy. Thusly fortified, we'll go get that old stone."
     The doctor smiled at his words, and Lord L– applauded the sentiment, but the faces of the three men betrayed their fear. For my part, I quietly accepted my coffee so that I could watch them as I drank it. Were they joking? They seemed to have spoken in earnest. What was it that they weren't saying?
     At length they led me onto the plain. We walked around the edge of the well. I tried to look inside, into the darkness. I took an effort of will, almost a prayer, to avert my eyes.
     Having dug up the stele, I explained the inscription to the anxious men.

     αἴ τίς κα βάπτηι ἐς φρέαρ, αἰὴ διψήσει
     αἴ τίς κα λόηται ἐν φάει, αἰὴ ψέφος γνωσεῖται
     αἴ τίς κα ἀλάθειαν εἰδῆι, αἰὴ
     [the rest is wanting]
     Scarcely three sentences remained, incised into the rock using archaic letters, and composed in a Dorian dialect. As the men did not seem to understand when I read them aloud, I translated: "Whosoever shall dip into the well, forever shall thirst / Whosoever shall bathe in the light, forever shall know darkness / Whosoever shall know the truth, forever—"
     "And here it breaks off," I continued. "That's what it says, but I don't understand the sense of it. Is it a warning... or a curse?"
     "It hardly matters," said my brother, "for today the well is to be explored."
     Lord L– and Doctor S– tacitly assented. Nor did I refuse.

Towards mid-day the workmen lowered us slowly into the well with stout ropes. At first Lord L– had lit a torch and cast it in, but it didn't fall very far before it went out. we didn't even hear it strike the bottom. Lord L– furrowed his brow, then lit a second, and told us all to get ready.
We went in together. The light of the four torches hardly pushed back the darkness. Although he was only five feet distant, I could hardly see my brother. Beyond him Lord L– and the doctor were invisible to me, their voices even were muffled. I knew their torches must yet burn — for who would dare descend without a light? — nevertheless I could not see them. I know not for how long we descended nor how we managed to find the opening in the wall, nor which god's tutelage saw us reach it unharmed. One by one we went into the opening and, having untied the ropes from about our waists, followed the passage into the earth.

The darkness along the passage finally began to pull back from our torches. We proceeded recklessly down the narrow, square passage, as if an unknown power drew us forward. No one spoke, but I listened to them breathing. Betimes I thought I heard a fifth person breathing, but then at once I castigated myself for such girlish fears... until Doctor S– said, "Stop! I hear someone behind us." We stood still for a while, but could not perceive anyone there with us. We passed by other passages leading off to the left and the right but continued straight on our way until we saw a light ahead. We advanced more quickly until we reached the chamber with the light. The room itself was high and square, and other than the light it was empty. The light itself was a single ray which shone from the top corner of the wall, a white light that drew the eyes and at the same time hurt to behold. We approached unconsciously, but reverently.

     "What now?" asked my brother.
     "We bathe in the light," I replied, "to learn the truth."
     "But the stele said quite something else," said Lord L–, almost in a whisper.
     If I remembered the warning in the stone, it did nothing to stop me. I walked up to the light and plunged my hand into the beam. My brother and Doctor S– followed, putting their hands in as well.
     "I don't feel a thing," said my brother. "Some warning!"
     "Where do you think the light comes from?" asked Doctor S–. "Are there hidden mirrors somewhere? Lord L–, come here. You're not afraid it's dangerous?"
     Lord L– made the sign of the cross. "We should leave," he said.
     "You're talking nonsense," I replied. "Whither has your thirst for knowledge fled?"
     And with these words I put my whole body into the light, walked through it until it shone directly onto my face. Then I opened my eyes, and the bright light hurt them. I passed out from the indescribable pain.
     When I came back to my senses, I saw Lord L–'s terror spreading to the others. I wanted to stay, to sleep in the light, but I could not resist my frightened comrades. They dragged me from the subterranean labyrinth, out of the well. Leaning upon my brother I traversed the passage to the ropes. The workmen hauled me up like a ragdoll. "Let us follow quickly," said my brother. I don't remember anything else of that day.
     On the next day I convened for breakfast with the men. Lord L– was absent. My brother said he was managing the workmen, because they had decided to break camp and make an end of the expedition. Soon the doctor excused himself, saying he was going to assist Lord L–. After an age passed in silence, my brother spoke.
     “Do you remember,” he asked, “the light in that little room?”
     “I remember it.”
     “Why, when you fainted, did you cry out, ‘the sun!’?”
     The terrible memory struck me senseless, so I couldn’t speak. The cup fell from my lifeless fingers. I excused myself, and got up at once to fetch a servant to clean up the table. But my brother seized my hand.
     “Don’t run away,” he said. “Tell me why you cried out about the sun.”
     “If I tell you, you mustn’t repeat it to anyone.”
     “I won’t tell.”
     “Swear it!”
     “I swear.”
     “In the light,” I began, “I saw the sun going black. At first I thought it was an eclipse, but I watched and then I knew: the darkness was devouring the sun. The ones who live in the well — I know what they want!”

Then the doctor came back, and I fled.
As they were occupied with the preparations for the journey, the men didn’t see me walking alone out of the camp and ascending the hill. At the top, I sat down on the ground and gazed at the well in the rocky plain. I saw shadows slither out of the well, and stand around the edge of the well as once we did with the workmen. Now and then I saw one of them incline its head to one of the others; I knew they were whispering about me.

Lord L– and my brother soon found me. Angrily, they demanded I come back down the hill. Again and again Lord L– anxiously cast his eyes toward the well. My brother pretended not to see the shadows.

The trip back to Alexandria was harsh. Both the desert and our haste did in many camels, and a few of the men. And we were ever looking behind us, fearing someone should follow.
Finally, at Alexandria, there was some relief. We began to believe that we had avoided the danger, or escaped it. We increasingly began to lead our ordinary lives again. Even the nightmares began to fade. We enjoyed the city and the sea and the sun especially as only Englishmen accustomed to the gloom of London are able. On the expedition we remained silent. Almost three weeks passed thus. From time to time I would become to other easings of terror, although they began to unnerve me even more than the days in which the shadows were in pursuit.

     One evening as I was walking through a market, I heard an uproar. I saw a madman run out of a mosque, driven out by an angry crowd. He shouted the same words over and over, and a priest shouted back a response. The crowd roared back repeatedly. Several in the crowd began to throw stones to chase the madman away.
     “I cannot,” said I to my maidservant, “understand that shouting. What are they saying? What is their quarrel?”
     “My lady,” she replied, “that man said the imam is blind, that he lies to the faithful, for he says nothing of the monsters walking amongst us.”
     At once I looked back at the crowd, and saw! In the midst of the throng stood the invisible shadows: silent, calm, almost immobile. No one besides me – besides the madman – could perceive them. They avoid them unknowingly, walking round the looming spectres. I watched the shadows watching me until terror or reason, I honestly can't say which, forced me out of the market.

On the next day I boarded a ship, seeking refuge in London. My brother promised to settle matters in Alexandria, and said he'd soon follow with Doctor S–. The sae was hardly stormy, nevertheless I remained in my cabin, fearing lest I encounter the shadows above deck. I did the same in the train across France. Do demons even take the train?
At home I locked myself in my bedroom. I received no visitors for a month, and other than my servants saw no one at all. Daily I expected a letter from my brother, alas in vain. But in nowise did I waste my hours of solitude. I read through all the books in my library, searching for some wisdom about the horrible events I had seen. I pursued the barest of hints to their source. My servants fetched for me whatever books I lacked from the London Library. I was hunting after truth, after understanding, but I only uncovered rumours and fallacies. Finally I acknowledged that my retreat was getting in the way. I needed to get out of the house. And so I washed, made myself up, put on a clean frock, and set out bravely into the world.

I hurried to the British Museum. It was an overcast day, but the cold revived me as I hastened, travelling through familiar streets and refusing to look at the crowds, lest I see any shadows. I only wished I didn't feel that they were there, always looking at me.
The head librarian of the museum, whom I knew from my days at university, received me in his office. Back then he was quite friendly and helpful, but now he looked upon me with suspicion.

"My dear girl," he said, "your brother has sent me a telegram from Egypt. He wrote that you are obsessed with... certain unhealthy ideas, and he urged me not to allow your inquiries which — how did he put it? — might harm your fragile psyche. I believed that these were the words of an overprotective brother, but the following day a telegram arrived from Doctor S–, and a second from Lord L–, in both of which I read the same warning. I'm sorry, my dear girl, but I cannot allow you to use the library."
I quarrelled, I pleaded, I even cried, but the librarian stood firm. In the end I fled the building before the guards could eject me. I was raving as I crossed the courtyard, my face flushed with anger, and I burst through the iron gates into the street. I walked along the pavement mumbling to myself, until I caught sight of something which stopped me in my tracks. There were shadows standing in the middle of the street, and one of them was pointing its finger straight at me. My anger changed immediately into fear, and I ran home.

I couldn't speak for nearly four days. I didn't leave my bedroom, and hardly got out of bed. One of my maids watched over me, and cared for me. I gradually came back to my senses. I suffered a doctor to call, but confessed nothing to him. I accepted his medicine in order to satisfy him, so he would go away. Perhaps the medicine did help me, and fortified me, for, when I received Lord L–'s letter announcing my brother's suicide, my heart was barely moved.

I wrote back; I said he must come see me. But I did not really expect a reply. I took a train to Oxford without delay, to seek out my friend at the Bodleian. My brother wouldn't have written to him, nor would the others. If I were silent about the purpose of my research, I reasoned to myself, he would not refuse his assistance.
The weeks elapsed into months. Even though I was not learning much from my research, observation taught me a lot. The shadows did not love light, to be sure, but it did not entirely repel them. In the spring months I at first thought they were hiding away from the light in their secret places, for I rarely — or rather more seldom — caught sight of them. at least during the day; indeed, I learnt how to perceive them at night. Then I knew I was never alone. And so I was watching them, and they in turn were watching me. I sought their nature in books, they — I'm not sure how — were also investigating me.

     O reader, whosoever you may be, having read the above, do not think that my fear of the shadows had in any way diminished. I saw them everywhere, so that there was no place of refuge. They always stood a ways off; if I averted my eyes, I always saw others. They even began to haunt my dreams; but whether I was dreaming about them due to fear or whether they had some power to invade my dreams themselves, I don't know. I sought oblivion in drink, and when liquor failed to keep them at bay I was not averse to stronger medicine.
     In the middle of summer I read in the papers about the sudden death of Lord L–. I decided then to go see Doctor S–. I hastened to London, even returned home. I sought out his office in Town, only to find a new occupant therein, who of course had no idea where the doctor might have gone, nor even who he was. I then inquired of our friends in common what they might know. Quite a few didn't know, some turned me away, but at length a certain F- told me the doctor had gone home to the country, to his house in —shire: with unsound mind, according to rumour.
     I found the doctor's family home easily enough, but his sister forbade me enter. "You," said she, "and your brother put such ideas in his head! Now he can't sleep nights, and during the day he jumps at shadows. Go away! He isn't here. And neither shall you be, when he returns. Go! Never come back! I don't want to have to call the police."
     Although ignorant of the true danger, she seemed as terrified as I, as I knew her own brother must be. I feigned leaving without a struggle. I waited, however, concealed in the bushes. Late that night I hear the sister's voice though an open window: "Not in the living room. If you want to smoke those awful-smelling things, do it outside!"

     Then the front door opened, and the doctor came out onto the porch. Seeing me, his whole frame shuddered.
     "You've found me," he said. "Why did you come? I finally escaped them. You'll lead them here. You already have! Damnable woman! You bring destruction with you.
     He refused my questions, and soon his sister, brandishing a rifle, chased me away. Two days later I read in the papers that the house had burnt down. The doctor died in the conflagration. "Alas," said I to myself, "I shall be the final victim."
     I still rarely saw them in daytime. I scarcely left my room at night, even though they had not yet come into the lodging-house. On cloudy days I saw them everywhere — O lovely English summer! And I tried to comport myself more bravely, though a solitary existence amongst the stacks did not promote a sound mind. In the beginning of autumn my friend from the Bodleian invited me to a party in Town, and I simply couldn't refuse. Perhaps, I told myself, if I lead a normal life, I will overcome this daily terror. I could be victor over the shadows. And so I returned to London, and installed myself again at home.

I couldn’t leave off my research except through a great effort of will. The lack of knowledge had been driving me for so long I had simply forgotten how to live otherwise. Finally, having put my books aside, I went to see my tailor. I couldn’t very well go to an elegant soirée wearing last year’s fashion. And a new dress required new jewellery, so that I spent a week exploring the centre of Town. I brought my most garrulous servant with me; the more I focussed on her little stories, the less I noticed the shadows.

I learnt to endure the terror, rather than overcome it —or at least I thought so. And yet I could not pretend to be happy. When the night of the party arrived, I could hardly enjoy anyone’s company. I sat peevishly at a table with my friend, saying too little, drinking too much, watching the shadows gather. Bit by bit they were drawing ever closer. Finally one loomed right behind me; I could feel the chill emanating from it, and my friend even shivered, though he knew not the cause. Then I asked my friend to get more drinks, or rather commanded him to. And when he got up, I fled the party and returned home.
I am leaving this account as a warning. The pistol my brother once gave me is lying on the table near these pages. I no longer want to use it, to end this horror myself. The shadows have come, and they are going to carry me away. And even now I thirst after knowledge. Perhaps…? They are here, waiting patiently until I put down my pen. I see them standing in the doorway. If you don’t find my body near these pages, don’t look for it.