The Colour Out of Space
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written March 1927
Published September 1927 in Amazing Stories, Vol. 2, No. 6, p. 557-67
West of Arkham the hills rise wild, and there are valleys with deep woods that no axe has
ever cut. There are dark narrow glens where the trees slope fantastically, and where thin
brooklets trickle without ever having caught the glint of sunlight. On the gentle slopes
there are farms, ancient and rocky, with squat, moss-coated cottages brooding eternally
over old New England secrets in the lee of great ledges; but these are all vacant now, the
wide chimneys crumbling and the shingled sides bulging perilously beneath low gambrel
roofs.
The old folk have gone away, and foreigners do not like to live there. French-Canadians
have tried it, Italians have tried it, and the Poles have come and departed. It is not because
of anything that can be seen or heard or handled, but because of something that is
imagined. The place is not good for imagination, and does not bring restful dreams at
night. It must be this which keeps the foreigners away, for old Ammi Pierce has never
told them of anything he recalls from the strange days. Ammi, whose head has been a
little queer for years, is the only one who still remains, or who ever talks of the strange
days; and he dares to do this because his house is so near the open fields and the travelled
roads around Arkham.
There was once a road over the hills and through the valleys, that ran straight where the
blasted heath is now; but people ceased to use it and a new road was laid curving far
toward the south. Traces of the old one can still be found amidst the weeds of a returning
wilderness, and some of them will doubtless linger even when half the hollows are
flooded for the new reservoir. Then the dark woods will be cut down and the blasted
heath will slumber far below blue waters whose surface will mirror the sky and ripple in
the sun. And the secrets of the strange days will be one with the deep's secrets; one with
the hidden lore of old ocean, and all the mystery of primal earth.
When I went into the hills and vales to survey for the new reservoir they told me the
place was evil. They told me this in Arkham, and because that is a very old town full of
witch legends I thought the evil must he something which grandams had whispered to
children through centuries. The name "blasted heath" seemed to me very odd and
theatrical, and I wondered how it had come into the folklore of a Puritan people. Then I
saw that dark westward tangle of glens and slopes for myself, end ceased to wonder at
anything beside its own elder mystery. It was morning when I saw it, but shadow lurked
always there. The trees grew too thickly, and their trunks were too big for any healthy
New England wood. There was too much silence in the dim alleys between them, and the
floor was too soft with the dank moss and mattings of infinite years of decay.
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In the open spaces, mostly along the line of the old road, there were little hillside farms;
sometimes with all the buildings standing, sometimes with only 6ne or two, and
sometimes with only a lone chimney or fast-filling cellar. Weeds and briers reigned, and
furtive wild things rustled in the undergrowth. Upon everything was a haze of
restlessness and oppression; a touch of the unreal and the grotesque, as if some vital
element of perspective or chiaroscuro were awry. I did not wonder that the foreigners
would not stay, for this was no region to sleep in. It was too much like a landscape of
Salvator Rosa; too much like some forbidden woodcut in a tale of terror.
But even all this was not so bad as the blasted heath. I knew it the moment I came upon it
at the bottom of a spacious valley; for no other name could fit such a thing, or any other
thing fit such a name. It was as if the poet had coined the phrase from having seen this
one particular region. It must, I thought as I viewed it, be the outcome of a fire; but why
had nothing new ever grown over these five acres of grey desolation that sprawled open
to the sky like a great spot eaten by acid in the woods and fields? It lay largely to the
north of the ancient road line, but encroached a little on the other side. I felt an odd
reluctance about approaching, and did so at last only because my business took me
through and past it. There was no vegetation of any kind on that broad expanse, but only
a fine grey dust or ash which no wind seemed ever to blow about. The trees near it were
sickly and stunted, and many dead trunks stood or lay rotting at the rim. As I walked
hurriedly by I saw the tumbled bricks and stones of an old chimney and cellar on my
right, and the yawning black maw of an abandoned well whose stagnant vapours played
strange tricks with the hues of the sunlight. Even the long, dark woodland climb beyond
seemed welcome in contrast, and I marvelled no more at the frightened whispers of
Arkham people. There had been no house or ruin near; even in the old days the place
must have been lonely and remote. And at twilight, dreading to repass that ominous spot,
I walked circuitously back to the town by the curious road on the south. I vaguely wished
some clouds would gather, for an odd timidity about the deep skyey voids above had
crept into my soul.
In the evening I asked old people in Arkham about the blasted heath, and what was meant
by that phrase "strange days" which so many evasively muttered. I could not, however,
get any good answers1 except that all the mystery was much more recent than I had
dreamed. It was not a matter of old legendry at all, but something within the lifetime of
those who spoke. It had happened in the 'eighties, and a family had disappeared or was
killed. Speakers would not be exact; and because they all told me to pay no attention to
old Ammi Pierce's crazy tales, I sought him out the next morning, having heard that he
lived alone in the ancient tottering cottage where the trees first begin to get very thick. It
was a fearsomely ancient place, and had begun to exude the faint miasmal odour which
clings about houses that have stood too long. Only with persistent knocking could I rouse
the aged man, and when he shuffled timidly to the door could could tell he was not glad
to see me. He was not so feeble as I had expected; but his eyes drooped in a curious way,
and his unkempt clothing and white beard made him seem very worn and dismal.
Not knowing just how he could best be launched on his tales, I feigned a matter of
business; told him of my surveying, and asked vague questions about the district. He was
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far brighter and more educated than I had been led to think, and before I knew it had
graNped quite as much of the subject as any man I had talked with in Arkham. He was
not like other rustics I bad known in the sections where reservoirs were to be. From him
there were no protests at the miles of old wood and farmland to be blotted out, though
perhaps there would have been had not his home lain outside the bounds of the future
lake. Relief was all that he showed; relief at the doom of the dark ancient valleys through
which he had roamed all his life. They were better under water now - better under water
since the strange days. And with this opening his husky voice sank low, while his body
leaned forward and his right forefinger began to point shakily and impressively.
It was then that I heard the story, and as the rambling voice scraped and whispered on I
shivered again and again spite the summer day. Often I had to recall the speaker from
ramblings, piece out scientific points which he knew only by a fading parrot memory of
professors' talk, or bridge over gaps, where his sense of logic and continuity broke down.
When he was done I did not wonder that his mind had snapped a trifle, or that the folk of
Arkham would not speak much of the blasted heath. I hurried back before sunset to my
hotel, unwilling to have the stars come out above me in the open; and the next day
returned to - Boston to give up my position. I could not go into that dim chaos of old
forest and slope again, or face another time that grey blasted heath where the black well
yawned deep beside the tumbled bricks and stones. The reservoir will soon be built now,
and all those elder secrets will be safe forever under watery fathoms. But even then I do
not believe I would like to visit that country by night - at least not when the sinister stars
are out; and nothing could bribe me to drink the new city water of Arkham.
It all began, old Ammi said, with the meteorite. Before that time there had been no wild
legends at all since the witch trials, and even then these western woods were not feared
half so much as the small island in the Miskatonic where the devil held court beside a
curious 'lone altar older than the Indians. These were not haunted woods, and their
fantastic dusk was never terrible till the strange days. Then there had come that white
noontide cloud, that string of explosions in the air, and that pillar of smoke from the
valley far in the wood. And by night all Arkham had heard of the great rock that fell out
of the sky and bedded itself in the ground beside the well at the Nahum Gardner place.
That was the house which had stood where the blasted heath was to come - the trim white
Nahum Gardner house amidst its fertile gardens and orchards.
Nahum had come to town to tell people about the stone, and dropped in at Ammi Pierce's
on the way. Ammi was forty then, and all the queer things were fixed very strongly in his
mind. He and his wife had gone with the three professors from Miskatonic University
who hastened out the next morning to see the weird visitor from unknown stellar space,
and had wondered why Nahum had called it so large the day before. It had shrunk,
Nahum said as he pointed out the big brownish mound above the ripped earth and charred
grass near the archaic well-sweep in his front yard; but the wise men answered that stones
do not shrink. Its heat lingered persistently, and Nahum declared it had glowed faintly in
the night. The professors tried it with a geologist's hammer and found it was oddly soft. It
was, in truth, so soft as to be almost plastic; and they gouged rather than chipped a
specimen to take back to the college for testing. They took it in an old pail borrowed from
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Nahum's kitchen, for even the small piece refused to grow cool. On the trip back they
stopped at Ammi's to rest, and seemed thoughtful when Mrs. Pierce remarked that the
fragment was growing smaller and burning the bottom of the pail. Truly, it was not large,
but perhaps they had taken less than they thought.
The day after that-all this was in June of '82-the professors had trooped out again in a
great excitement. As they passed Ammi's they told him what queer things the specimen
had done, and how it had faded wholly away when they put it in a glass beaker. The
beaker had gone, too, and the wise men talked of the strange stone's affinity for silicon. It
had acted quite unbelievably in that well-ordered laboratory; doing nothing at all and
showing no occluded gases when heated on charcoal, being wholly negative in the borax
bead, and soon proving itself absolutely non-volatile at any producible temperature,
including that of the oxy-hydrogen blowpipe. On an anvil it appeared highly malleable,
and in the dark its luminosity was very marked. Stubbornly refusing to grow cool, it soon
had the college in a state of real excitement; and when upon heating before the
spectroscope it displayed shining bands unlike any known colours of the normal spectrum
there was much breathless talk of new elements, bizarre optical properties, and other
things which puzzled men of science are wont to say when faced by the unknown.
Hot as it was, they tested it in a crucible with all the proper reagents. Water did nothing.
Hydrochloric acid was the same. Nitric acid and even aqua regia merely hissed and
spattered against its torrid invulnerability. Ammi had difficulty in recalling all these
things, but recognized some solvents as I mentioned them in the usual order of use. There
were am monia and caustic soda, alcohol and ether, nauseous carbon disulphide and a
dozen others; but although the weight grew steadily less as time passed, and the fragment
seemed to be slightly cooling, there was no change in the solvents to show that they had
attacked the substance at all. It was a metal, though, beyond a doubt. It was magnetic, for
one thing; and after its immersion in the acid solvents there seemed to be faint traces of
the Widmanstatten figures found on meteoric iron. When the cooling had grown very
considerable, the testing was carried on in glass; and it was in a glass beaker that they left
all the chips made of the original fragment during the work. The next morning both chips
and beaker were gone without trace, and only a charred spot marked the place on the
wooden shelf where they had been.
All this the professors told Ammi as they paused at his door, and once more he went with
them to see the stony messenger from the stars, though this time his wife did not
accompany him. It had now most cer tainly shrunk, and even the sober professors could
not doubt the truth of what they saw. All around the dwindling brown lump near the well
was a vacant space, except where the earth had caved in; and whereas it had been a good
seven feet across the day before, it was now scarcely five. It was still hot, and the sages
studied its surface curiously as they detached another and larger piece with hammer and
chisel. They gouged deeply this time, and as they pried away the smaller mass they saw
that the core of the thing was not quite homogeneous.
They had uncovered what seemed to be the side of a large coloured globule embedded in
the substance. The colour, which resembled some of the bands in the meteor's strange
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spectrum, was almost impossible to describe; and it was only by analogy that they called
it colour at all. Its texture was glossy, and upon tapping it appeared to promise both brittle
ness and hollowness. One of the professors gave it a smart blow with a hammer, and it
burst with a nervous little pop. Nothing was emitted, and all trace of the thing vanished
with the puncturing. It left behind a hollow spherical space about three inches across, and
all thought it probable that others would be discovered as the enclosing substance wasted
away.
Conjecture was vain; so after a futile attempt to find additional globules by drilling, the
seekers left again with their new specimen which proved, however, as baffling in the
laboratory as its predecessor. Aside from being almost plastic, having heat, magnetism,
and slight luminosity, cooling slightly in powerful acids, possessing an unknown spec
trum, wasting away in air, and attacking silicon compounds with mutual destruction as a
result, it presented no identifying features whatsoever; and at the end of the tests the
college scientists were forced to own that they could not place it. It was nothing of this
earth, but a piece of the great outside; and as such dowered with outside properties and
obedient to outside laws.
That night there was a thunderstorm, and when the professors went out to Nahum's the
next day they met with a bitter disappointment. The stone, magnetic as it had been, must
have had some peculiar electrical property; for it had "drawn the lightning," as Nahum
said, with a singular persistence. Six times within an hour the farmer saw the lightning
strike the furrow in the front yard, and when the storm was over nothing remained but a
ragged pit by the ancient well-sweep, half-choked with a caved-in earth. Digging had
borne no fruit, and the scientists verified the fact of the utter vanishment. The failure was
total; so that nothing was left to do but go back to the laboratory and test again the
disappearing fragment left carefully cased in lead. That fragment lasted a week, at the end
of which nothing of value had been learned of it. When it had gone, no residue was left
behind, and in time the professors felt scarcely sure they had indeed seen with waking
eyes that cryptic vestige of the fathomless gulfs outside; that lone, weird message from
other universes and other realms of matter, force, and entity.
As was natural, the Arkham papers made much of the incident with its collegiate
sponsoring, and sent reporters to talk with Nahum Gardner and his family. At least one
Boston daily also sent a scribe, and Nahum quickly became a kind of local celebrity. He
was a lean, genial person of about fifty, living with his wife and three sons on the
pleasant farmstead in the valley. He and Ammi exchanged visits frequently, as did their
wives; and Ammi had nothing but praise for him after all these years. He seemed slightly
proud of the notice his place had attracted, and talked often of the meteorite in the
succeeding weeks. That July and August were hot; and Nahum worked hard at his haying
in the ten-acre pasture across Chapman's Brook; his rattling wain wearing deep ruts in the
shadowy lanes between. The labour tired him more than it had in other years, and he felt
that age was beginning to tell on him.
Then fell the time of fruit and harvest. The pears and apples slowly ripened, and Nahum
vowed that his orchards were prospering as never before. The fruit was growing to
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phenomenal size and unwonted gloss, and in such abundance that extra barrels were
ordered to handle the future crop. But with the ripening came sore disappointment, for of
all that gorgeous array of specious lusciousness not one single jot was fit to eat. Into the
fine flavour of the pears and apples had crept a stealthy bitterness and sickishness, so that
even the smallest bites induced a lasting disgust. It was the same with the melons and
tomatoes, and Nahum sadly saw that his entire crop was lost. Quick to connect events, he
declared that the meteorite had poisoned the soil, and thanked Heaven that most of the
other crops were in the upland lot along the road.
Winter came early, and was very cold. Ammi saw Nahum less often than usual, and
observed that he had begun to look worried. The rest of his family too, seemed to have
grown taciturn; and were far from steady in their church-going or their attendance at the
various social events of the countryside. For this reserve or melancholy no cause could be
found, though all the household confessed now and then to poorer health and a feeling of
vague disquiet. Nahum himself gave the most definite statement of anyone when he said
he was disturbed about certain footprints in the snow. They were the usual winter prints
of red squirrels, white rabbits, and foxes, but the brooding farmer professed to see
something not quite right about their nature and arrangement. He was never specific, but
appeared to think that they were not as characteristic of the anatomy and habits of
squirrels and rabbits and foxes as they ought to be. Ammi listened without interest to this
talk until one night when he drove past Nahum's house in his sleigh on the way back from
Clark's Comer. There had been a moon, and a rabbit had run across the road, and the
leaps of that rabbit were longer than either Ammi or his horse liked. The latter, indeed,
had almost run away when brought up by a firm rein. Thereafter Ammi gave Nahum's
tales more respect, and wondered why the Gardner dogs seemed so cowed and quivering
every morning. They had, it developed, nearly lost the spirit to bark.
In February the McGregor boys from Meadow Hill were out shooting woodchucks, and
not far from the Gardner place bagged a very peculiar specimen. The proportions of its
body seemed slightly altered in a queer way impossible to describe, while its face had
taken on an expression which no one ever saw in a woodchuck before. The boys were
genuinely frightened, and threw the thing away at once, so that only their grotesque tales
of it ever reached the people of the countryside. But the shying of horses near Nahum's
house had now become an acknowledged thing, and all the basis for a cycle of whispered
legend was fast taking form.
People vowed that the snow melted faster around Nahum's than it did anywhere else, and
early in March there was an awed discussion in Potter's general store at Clark's Corners.
Stephen Rice had driven past Gardner's in the morning, and had noticed the skunkcabbages
coming up through the mud by the woods across the road. Never were things of
such size seen before, and they held strange colours that could not be put into any words.
Their shapes were monstrous, and the horse had snorted at an odour which struck
Stephen as wholly unprecedented. That afternoon several persons drove past to see the
abnormal growth, and all agreed that plants of that kind ought never to sprout in a healthy
world. The bad fruit of the fall before was freely mentioned, and it went from mouth to
mouth that there was poison in Nahum's ground. Of course it was the meteorite; and
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remembering how strange the men from the college had found that stone to be, several
farmers spoke about the matter to them.
One day they paid Nahum a visit; but having no love of wild tales and folklore were very
conservative in what they inferred. The plants were certainly odd, but all skunk-cabbages
are more or less odd in shape and hue. Perhaps some mineral element from the stone had
entered the soil, but it would soon be washed away. And as for the footprints and
frightened horses - of course this was mere country talk which such a phenomenon as the
aerolite would be certain to start. There was really nothing for serious men to do in cases
of wild gossip, for superstitious rustics will say and believe anything. And so all through
the strange days the professors stayed away in contempt. Only one of them, when given
two phials of dust for analysis in a police job over a year and half later, recalled that the
queer colour of that skunk-cabbage had been very like one of the anomalous bands of
light shown by the meteor fragment in the college spectroscope, and like the brittle
globule found imbedded in the stone from the abyss. The samples in this analysis case
gave the same odd bands at first, though later they lost the property.
The trees budded prematurely around Nahum's, and at night they swayed ominously in
the wind. Nahum's second son Thaddeus, a lad of fifteen, swore that they swayed also
when there was no wind; but even the gossips would not credit this. Certainly, however,
restlessness was in the air. The entire Gardner family developed the habit of stealthy
listening, though not for any sound which they could consciously name. The listening
was, indeed, rather a product of moments when consciousness seemed half to slip away.
Unfortunately such moments increased week by week, till it became common speech that
"something was wrong with all Nahum's folks." When the early saxifrage came out it had
another strange colour; not quite like that of the skunk-cabbage, but plainly related and
equally unknown to anyone who saw it. Nahum took some blossoms to Arkham and
showed them to the editor of the Gazette, but that dignitary did no more than write a
humorous article about them, in which the dark fears of rustics were held up to polite
ridicule. It was a mistake of Nahum's to tell a stolid city man about the way the great,
overgrown mourning-cloak butterflies behaved in connection with these saxifrages.
April brought a kind of madness to the country folk, and began that disuse of the road
past Nahum's which led to its ultimate abandonment. It was the vegetation. All the
orchard trees blossomed forth in strange colours, and through the stony soil of the yard
and adjacent pasturage there sprang up a bizarre growth which only a botanist could
connect with the proper flora of the region. No sane wholesome colours were anywhere
to be seen except in the green grass and leafage; but everywhere were those hectic and
prismatic variants of some diseased, underlying primary tone without a place among the'
known tints of earth. The "Dutchman's breeches" became a thing of sinister menace, and
the bloodroots grew insolent in their chromatic perversion. Ammi and the Gardners
thought that most of the colours had a sort of haunting familiarity, and decided that they
reminded one of the brittle globule in the meteor. Nahum ploughed and sowed the tenacre
pasture and the upland lot, but did nothing with the land around the house. He knew
it would be of no use, and hoped that the summer's strange growths would draw all the
poison from the soil. He was prepared for almost anything now, and had grown used to
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the sense of something near him waiting to be heard. The shunning of his house by
neighbors told on him, of course; but it told on his wife more. The boys were better off,
being at school each day; but they could not help being frightened by the gossip.
Thaddeus, an especially sensitive youth, suffered the most.
In May the insects came, and Nahum's place became a nightmare of buzzing and
crawling. Most of the creatures seemed not quite usual in their aspects and motions, and
their nocturnal habits contradicted all former experience. The Gardners took to watching
at night - watching in all directions at random for something - they could not tell what. It
was then that they owned that Thaddeus had been right about the trees. Mrs. Gardner was
the next to see it from the window as she watched the swollen boughs of a maple against
a moonlit sky. The boughs surely moved, and there was no 'wind. It must be the sap.
Strangeness had come into everything growing now. Yet it was none of Nahum's family
at all who made the next discovery. Familiarity had dulled them, and what they could not
see was glimpsed by a timid windmill salesman from Bolton who drove by one night in
ignorance of the country legends. What he told in Arkham was given a short paragraph in
the Gazette; and it was there that all the farmers, Nahum included, saw it first. The night
had been dark and the buggy-lamps faint, but around a farm in the valley which everyone
knew from the account must be Nahum's, the darkness had been less thick. A dim though
distinct luminosity seemed to inhere in all the vegetation, grass, leaves, and blossoms
alike, while at one moment a detached piece of the phosphorescence appeared to stir
furtively in the yard near the barn.
The grass had so far seemed untouched, and the cows were freely pastured in the lot near
the house, but toward the end of May the milk began to be bad. Then Nahum had the
cows driven to the uplands, after which this trouble ceased. Not long after this the change
in grass and leaves became apparent to the eye. All the verdure was going grey, and was
developing a highly singular quality of brittleness. Ammi was now the only person who
ever visited the place, and his visits were becoming fewer and fewer. When school closed
the Gardners were virtually cut off from the world, and sometimes let Ammi do their
errands in town. They were failing curiously both physically and mentally, and no one
was surprised when the news of Mrs. Gardner's madness stole around.
It happened in June, about the anniversary of the meteor's fall, and the poor woman
screamed about things in the air which she could not describe. In her raving there was not
a single specific noun, but only verbs and pronouns. Things moved and changed and
fluttered, and ears tingled to impulses which were not wholly sounds. Something was
taken away - she was being drained of something - something was fastening itself on her
that ought not to be - someone must make it keep off - nothing was ever still in the night -
the walls and windows shifted. Nahum did not send her to the county asylum, but let her
wander about the house as long as she was harmless to herself and others. Even when her
expression changed he did nothing. But when the boys grew afraid of her, and Thaddeus
nearly fainted at the way she made faces at him, he decided to keep her locked in the
attic. By July she had ceased to speak and crawled on all fours, and before that month
was over Nahum got the mad notion that she was slightly luminous in the dark, as he now
clearly saw was the case with the nearby vegetation.
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It was a little before this that the horses had stampeded. Something had aroused them in
the night, and their neighing and kicking in their stalls had been terrible. There seemed
virtually nothing to do to calm them, and when Nahum opened the stable door they all
bolted out like frightened woodland deer. It took a week to track all four, and when found
they were seen to be quite useless and unmanageable. Something had snapped in their
brains, and each one had to be shot for its own good. Nahum borrowed a horse from
Ammi for his haying, but found it would not approach the barn. It shied, balked, and
whinnied, and in the end he could do nothing but drive it into the yard while the men
used their own strength to get the heavy wagon near enough the hayloft for convenient
pitching. And all the while the vegetation was turning grey and brittle. Even the flowers
whose hues had been so strange were greying now, and the fruit was coming out grey and
dwarfed and tasteless. The asters and golden-rod bloomed grey and distorted, and the
roses and zinneas and hollyhocks in the front yard were such blasphemous-looking things
that Nahum's oldest boy Zenas cut them down. The strangely puffed insects died about
that time, even the bees that had left their hives and taken to the woods.
By September all the vegetation was fast crumbling to a greyish powder, and Nahum
feared that the trees would die before the poison was out of the soil. His wife now had
spells of terrific screaming, and he and the boys were in a constant state of nervous
tension. They shunned people now, and when school opened the boys did not go. But it
was Ammi, on one of his rare visits, who first realised that the well water was no longer
good. It had an evil taste that was not exactly fetid nor exactly salty, and Ammi advised
his friend to dig another well on higher ground to use till the soil was good again.
Nahum, however, ignored the warning, for he had by that time become calloused to
strange and unpleasant things. He and the boys continued to use the tainted supply,
drinking it as listlessly and mechanically as they ate their meagre and ill-cooked meals
and did their thankless and monotonous chores through the aimless days. There was
something of stolid resignation about them all, as if they walked half in another world
between lines of nameless guards to a certain and familiar doom.
Thaddeus went mad in September after a visit to the well. He had gone with a pail and
had come back empty-handed, shrieking and waving his arms, and sometimes lapsing
into an inane titter or a whisper about "the moving colours down there." Two in one
family was pretty bad, but Nahum was very brave about it. He let the boy run about for a
week until he began stumbling and hurting himself, and then he shut him in an attic room
across the hall from his mother's. The way they screamed at each other from behind their
locked doors was very terrible, especially to little Merwin, who fancied they talked in
some terrible language that was not of earth. Merwin was getting frightfully imaginative,
and his restlessness was worse after the shutting away of the brother who had been his
greatest playmate.
Almost at the same time the mortality among the livestock commenced. Poultry turned
greyish and died very quickly, their meat being found dry and noisome upon cutting.
Hogs grew inordinately fat, then suddenly began to undergo loathsome changes which no
one could explain. Their meat was of course useless, and Nahum was at his wit's end. No
rural veterinary would approach his place, and the city veterinary from Arkham was
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openly baffled. The swine began growing grey and brittle and falling to pieces before
they died, and their eyes and muzzles developed singular alterations. It was very
inexplicable, for they had never been fed from the tainted vegetation. Then something
struck the cows. Certain areas or sometimes the whole body would be uncannily
shrivelled or compressed, and atrocious collapses or disintegrations were common. In the
last stages - and death was always the result - there would be a greying and turning brittle
like that which beset the hogs. There could be no question of poison, for all the cases
occurred in a locked and undisturbed barn. No bites of prowling things could have
brought the virus, for what live beast of earth can pass through solid obstacles? It must be
only natural disease - yet what disease could wreak such results was beyond any mind's
guessing. When the harvest came there was not an animal surviving on the place, for the
stock and poultry were dead and the dogs had run away. These dogs, three in number,
had all vanished one night and were never heard of again. The five cats had left some
time before, but their going was scarcely noticed since there now seemed to be no mice,
and only Mrs. Gardner had made pets of the graceful felines.
On the nineteenth of October Nahum staggered into Ammi's house with hideous news.
The death had come to poor Thaddeus in his attic room, and it had come in a way which
could not be told. Nahum had dug a grave in the railed family plot behind the farm, and
had put therein what he found. There could have been nothing from outside, for the small
barred window and locked door were intact; but it was much as it had been in the barn.
Ammi and his wife consoled the stricken man as best they could, but shuddered as they
did so. Stark terror seemed to cling round the Gardners and all they touched, and the very
presence of one in the house was a breath from regions unnamed and unnamable. Ammi
accompanied Nahum home with the greatest reluctance, and did what he might to calm
the hysterical sobbing of little Merwin. Zenas needed no calming. He had come of late to
do nothing but stare into space and obey what his father told him; and Ammi thought that
his fate was very merciful. Now and then Merwin's screams were answered faintly from
the attic, and in response to an inquiring look Nahum said that his wife was getting very
feeble. When night approached, Ammi managed to get away; for not even friendship
could make him stay in that spot when the faint glow of the vegetation began and the
trees may or may not have swayed without wind. It was really lucky for Ammi that he
was not more imaginative. Even as things were, his mind was bent ever so slightly; but
had he been able to connect and reflect upon all the portents around him he must
inevitably have turned a total maniac. In the twilight he hastened home, the screams of
the mad woman and the nervous child ringing horribly in his ears.
Three days later Nahum burst into Ammi's kitchen in the early morning, and in the
absence of his host stammered out a desperate tale once more, while Mrs. Pierce listened
in a clutching fright. It was little Merwin this time. He was gone. He had gone out late at
night with a lantern and pail for water, and had never come back. He'd been going to
pieces for days, and hardly knew what he was about. Screamed at everything. There had
been a frantic shriek from the yard then, but before the father could get to the door the
boy was gone. There was no glow from the lantern he had taken, and of the child himself
no trace. At the time Nahum thought the lantern and pail were gone too; but when dawn
came, and the man had plodded back from his all-night search of the woods and fields, he
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had found some very curious things near the well. There was a crushed and apparently
somewhat melted mass of iron which had certainly been the lantern; while a bent handle
and twisted iron hoops beside it, both half-fused, seemed to hint at the remnants of the
pail. That was all. Nahum was past imagining, Mrs. Pierce was blank, and Ammi, when
he had reached home and heard the tale, could give no guess. Merwin was gone, and
there would be no use in telling the people around, who shunned all Gardners now. No
use, either, in telling the city people at Arkham who laughed at everything. Thad was
gone, and now Merwin was gone. Something was creeping and creeping and waiting to
be seen and heard. Nahum would go soon, and he wanted Ammi to look after his wife
and Zenas if they survived him. It must all be a judgment of some sort; though he could
not fancy what for, since he had always walked uprightly in the Lord's ways so far as he
knew.
For over two weeks Ammi saw nothing of Nahum; and then, worried about what might
have happened, he overcame his fears and paid the Gardner place a visit. There was no
smoke from the great chimney, and for a moment the visitor was apprehensive of the
worst. The aspect of the whole farm was shocking - greyish withered grass and leaves on
the ground, vines falling in brittle wreckage from archaic walls and gables, and great bare
trees clawing up at the grey November sky with a studied malevolence which Ammi
could not but feel had come from some subtle change in the tilt of the branches. But
Nahum was alive, after all. He was weak, and lying on a couch in the low-ceiled kitchen,
but perfectly conscious and able to give simple orders to Zenas. The room was deadly
cold; and as Ammi visibly shivered, the host shouted huskily to Zenas for more wood.
Wood, indeed, was sorely needed; since the cavernous fireplace was unlit and empty,
with a cloud of soot blowing about in the chill wind that came down the chimney.
Presently Nahum asked him if the extra wood had made him any more comfortable, and
then Ammi saw what had happened. The stoutest cord had broken at last, and the hapless
farmer's mind was proof against more sorrow.
Questioning tactfully, Ammi could get no clear data at all about the missing Zenas. "In
the well - he lives in the well - " was all that the clouded father would say. Then there
flashed across the visitor's mind a sudden thought of the mad wife, and he changed his
line of inquiry. "Nabby? Why, here she is!" was the surprised response of poor Nahum,
and Ammi soon saw that he must search for himself. Leaving the harmless babbler on the
couch, he took the keys from their nail beside the door and climbed the creaking stairs to
the attic. It was very close and noisome up there, and no sound could be heard from any
direction. Of the four doors in sight, only one was locked, and on this he tried various
keys of the ring he had taken. The third key proved the right one, and after some
fumbling Ammi threw open the low white door.
It was quite dark inside, for the window was small and half-obscured by the crude
wooden bars; and Ammi could see nothing at all on the wide-planked floor. The stench
was beyond enduring, and before proceeding further he had to retreat to another room
and return with his lungs filled with breathable air. When he did enter he saw something
dark in the corner, and upon seeing it more clearly he screamed outright. While he
screamed he thought a momentary cloud eclipsed the window, and a second later he felt
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himself brushed as if by some hateful current of vapour. Strange colours danced before
his eyes; and had not a present horror numbed him he would have thought of the globule
in the meteor that the geologist's hammer had shattered, and of the morbid vegetation that
had sprouted in the spring. As it was he thought only of the blasphemous monstrosity
which confronted him, and which all too clearly had shared the nameless fate of young
Thaddeus and the livestock. But the terrible thing about the horror was that it very slowly
and perceptibly moved as it continued to crumble.
Ammi would give me no added particulars of this scene, but the shape in the comer does
not reappear in his tale as a moving object. There are things which cannot be mentioned,
and what is done in common humanity is sometimes cruelly judged by the law. I gathered
that no moving thing was left in that attic room, and that to leave anything capable of
motion there would have been a deed so monstrous as to damn any accountable being to
eternal torment. Anyone but a stolid farmer would have fainted or gone mad, but Ammi
walked conscious through that low doorway and locked the accursed secret behind him.
There would be Nahum to deal with now; he must be fed and tended, and removed to
some place where he could be cared for.
Commencing his descent of the dark stairs. Ammi heard a thud below him. He even
thought a scream had been suddenly choked off, and recalled nervously the clammy
vapour which had brushed by him in that frightful room above. What presence had his
cry and entry started up? Halted by some vague fear, he heard still further sounds below.
Indubitably there was a sort of heavy dragging, and a most detestably sticky noise as of
some fiendish and unclean species of suction. With an associative sense goaded to
feverish heights, he thought unaccountably of what he had seen upstairs. Good God!
What eldritch dream-world was this into which he had blundered? He dared move neither
backward nor forward, but stood there trembling at the black curve of the boxed-in
staircase. Every trifle of the scene burned itself into his brain. The sounds, the sense of
dread expectancy, the darkness, the steepness of the narrow step - and merciful Heaven! -
the faint but unmistakable luminosity of all the woodwork in sight; steps, sides, exposed
laths, and beams alike.
Then there burst forth a frantic whinny from Ammi's horse outside, followed at once by a
clatter which told of a frenzied runaway. In another moment horse and buggy had gone
beyond earshot, leaving the frightened man on the dark stairs to guess what had sent
them. But that was not all. There had been another sound out there. A sort of liquid splash
- water - it must have been the well. He had left Hero untied near it, and a buggy wheel
must have brushed the coping and knocked in a stone. And still the pale phosphorescence
glowed in that detestably ancient woodwork. God! how old the house was! Most of it
built before 1670, and the gambrel roof no later than 1730.
A feeble scratching on the floor downstairs now sounded distinctly, and Ammi's grip
tightened on a heavy stick he had picked up in the attic for some purpose. Slowly nerving
himself, he finished his descent and walked boldly toward the kitchen. But he did not
complete the walk, because what he sought was no longer there. It had come to meet him,
and it was still alive after a fashion. Whether it had crawled or whether it had been
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dragged by any external forces, Ammi could not say; but the death had been at it.
Everything had happened in the last half-hour, but collapse, greying, and disintegration
were already far advanced. There was a horrible brittleness, and dry fragments were
scaling off. Ammi could not touch it, but looked horrifiedly into the distorted parody that
had been a face. "What was it, Nahum - what was it?" He whispered, and the cleft,
bulging lips were just able to crackle out a final answer.
"Nothin'... nothin'... the colour... it burns... cold an' wet, but it burns... it lived in the
well... I seen it... a kind of smoke... jest like the flowers last spring... the well shone at
night... Thad an' Merwin an' Zenas... everything alive... suckin' the life out of
everything... in that stone... it must a' come in that stone pizened the whole place... dun't
know what it wants... that round thing them men from the college dug outen the stone...
they smashed it... it was the same colour... jest the same, like the flowers an' plants...
must a' ben more of 'em... seeds... seeds... they growed... I seen it the fust time this
week... must a' got strong on Zenas... he was a big boy, full o' life... it beats down your
mind an' then gets ye... burns ye up... in the well water... you was right about that... evil
water... Zenas never come back from the well... can't git away... draws ye... ye know
summ'at's comin' but tain't no use... I seen it time an' agin senct Zenas was took... whar's
Nabby, Ammi?... my head's no good... dun't know how long sense I fed her... it'll git her
ef we ain't keerful... jest a colour... her face is gittin' to hev that colour sometimes towards
night... an' it burns an' sucks... it come from some place whar things ain't as they is here...
one o' them professors said so... he was right... look out, Ammi, it'll do suthin' more...
sucks the life out..."
But that was all. That which spoke could speak no more because it had completely caved
in. Ammi laid a red checked tablecloth over what was left and reeled out the back door
into the fields. He climbed the slope to the ten-acre pasture and stumbled home by the
north road and the woods. He could not pass that well from which his horses had run
away. He had looked at it through the window, and had seen that no stone was missing
from the rim. Then the lurching buggy had not dislodged anything after all - the splash
had been something else - something which went into the well after it had done with poor
Nahum.
When Ammi reached his house the horses and buggy had arrived before him and thrown
his wife into fits of anxiety. Reassuring her without explanations, he set out at once for
Arkham and notified the authorities that the Gardner family was no more. He indulged in
no details, but merely told of the deaths of Nahum and Nabby, that of Thaddeus being
already known, and mentioned that the cause seemed to be the same strange ailment
which had killed the live-stock. He also stated that Merwin and Zenas had disappeared.
There was considerable questioning at the police station, and in the end Ammi was
compelled to take three officers to the Gardner farm, together with the coroner, the
medical examiner, and the veterinary who had treated the diseased animals. He went
much against his will, for the afternoon was advancing and he feared the fall of night
over that accursed place, but it was some comfort to have so many people with him.
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The six men drove out in a democrat-wagon, following Ammi's buggy, and arrived at the
pest-ridden farmhouse about four o'clock. Used as the officers were to gruesome
experiences, not one remained unmoved at what was found in the attic and under the red
checked tablecloth on the floor below. The whole aspect of the farm with its grey
desolation was terrible enough, but those two crumbling objects were beyond all bounds.
No one could look long at them, and even the medical examiner admitted that there was
very little to examine. Specimens could be analysed, of course, so he busied himself in
obtaining them - and here it develops that a very puzzling aftermath occurred at the
college laboratory where the two phials of dust were finally taken. Under the
spectroscope both samples gave off an unknown spectrum, in which many of the baffling
bands were precisely like those which the strange meteor had yielded in the previous
year. The property of emitting this spectrum vanished in a month, the dust thereafter
consisting mainly of alkaline phosphates and carbonates.
Ammi would not have told the men about the well if he had thought they meant to do
anything then and there. It was getting toward sunset, and he was anxious to be away. But
he could not help glancing nervously at the stony curb by the great sweep, and when a
detective questioned him he admitted that Nahum had feared something down there so
much so that he had never even thought of searching it for Merwin or Zenas. After that
nothing would do but that they empty and explore the well immediately, so Ammi had to
wait trembling while pail after pail of rank water was hauled up and splashed on the
soaking ground outside. The men sniffed in disgust at the fluid, and toward the last held
their noses against the foetor they were uncovering. It was not so long a job as they had
feared it would be, since the water was phenomenally low. There is no need to speak too
exactly of what they found. Merwin and Zenas were both there, in part, though the
vestiges were mainly skeletal. There were also a small deer and a large dog in about the
same state, and a number of bones of small animals. The ooze and slime at the bottom
seemed inexplicably porous and bubbling, and a man who descended on hand-holds with
a long pole found that he could sink the wooden shaft to any depth in the mud of the floor
without meeting any solid obstruction.
Twilight had now fallen, and lanterns were brought from the house. Then, when it was
seen that nothing further could be gained from the well, everyone went indoors and
conferred in the ancient sitting-room while the intermittent light of a spectral half-moon
played wanly on the grey desolation outside. The men were frankly nonplussed by the
entire case, and could find no convincing common element to link the strange vegetable
conditions, the unknown disease of live-stock and humans, and the unaccountable deaths
of Merwin and Zenas in the tainted well. They had heard the common country talk, it is
true; but could not believe that anything contrary to natural law had occurred. No doubt
the meteor had poisoned the soil, but the illness of persons and animals who had eaten
nothing grown in that soil was another matter. Was it the well water? Very possibly. It
might be a good idea to analyze it. But what peculiar madness could have made both
boys jump into the well? Their deeds were so similar-and the fragments showed that they
had both suffered from the grey brittle death. Why was everything so grey and brittle?
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It was the coroner, seated near a window overlooking the yard, who first noticed the glow
about the well. Night had fully set in, and all the abhorrent grounds seemed faintly
luminous with more than the fitful moonbeams; but this new glow was something
definite and distinct, and appeared to shoot up from the black pit like a softened ray from
a searchlight, giving dull reflections in the little ground pools where the water had been
emptied. It had a very queer colour, and as all the men clustered round the window Ammi
gave a violent start. For this strange beam of ghastly miasma was to him of no unfamiliar
hue. He had seen that colour before, and feared to think what it might mean. He had seen
it in the nasty brittle globule in that aerolite two summers ago, had seen it in the crazy
vegetation of the springtime, and had thought he had seen it for an instant that very
morning against the small barred window of that terrible attic room where nameless
things had happened. It had flashed there a second, and a clammy and hateful current of
vapour had brushed past him - and then poor Nahum had been taken by something of that
colour. He had said so at the last - said it was like the globule and the plants. After that
had come the runaway in the yard and the splash in the well-and now that well was
belching forth to the night a pale insidious beam of the same demoniac tint.
It does credit to the alertness of Ammi's mind that he puzzled even at that tense moment
over a point which was essentially scientific. He could not but wonder at his gleaning of
the same impression from a vapour glimpsed in the daytime, against a window opening
on the morning sky, and from a nocturnal exhalation seen as a phosphorescent mist
against the black and blasted landscape. It wasn't right - it was against Nature - and he
thought of those terrible last words of his stricken friend, "It come from some place whar
things ain't as they is here... one o' them professors said so..."
All three horses outside, tied to a pair of shrivelled saplings by the road, were now
neighing and pawing frantically. The wagon driver started for the door to do something,
but Ammi laid a shaky hand on his shoulder. "Dun't go out thar," he whispered. "They's
more to this nor what we know. Nahum said somethin' lived in the well that sucks your
life out. He said it must be some'at growed from a round ball like one we all seen in the
meteor stone that fell a year ago June. Sucks an' burns, he said, an' is jest a cloud of
colour like that light out thar now, that ye can hardly see an' can't tell what it is. Nahum
thought it feeds on everything livin' an' gits stronger all the time. He said he seen it this
last week. It must be somethin' from away off in the sky like the men from the college
last year says the meteor stone was. The way it's made an' the way it works ain't like no
way 0' God's world. It's some'at from beyond."
So the men paused indecisively as the light from the well grew stronger and the hitched
horses pawed and whinnied in increasing frenzy. It was truly an awful moment; with
terror in that ancient and accursed house itself, four monstrous sets of fragments-two
from the house and two from the well-in the woodshed behind, and that shaft of unknown
and unholy iridescence from the slimy depths in front. Ammi had restrained the driver on
impulse, forgetting how uninjured he himself was after the clammy brushing of that
coloured vapour in the attic room, but perhaps it is just as well that he acted as he did. No
one will ever know what was abroad that night; and though the blasphemy from beyond
had not so far hurt any human of unweakened mind, there is no telling what it might not
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have done at that last moment, and with its seemingly increased strength and the special
signs of purpose it was soon to display beneath the half-clouded moonlit sky.
All at once one of the detectives at the window gave a short, sharp gasp. The others
looked at him, and then quickly followed his own gaze upward to the point at which its
idle straying had been suddenly arrested. There was no need for words. What had been
disputed in country gossip was disputable no longer, and it is because of the thing which
every man of that party agreed in whispering later on, that the strange days are never
talked about in Arkham. It is necessary to premise that there was no wind at that hour of
the evening. One did arise not long afterward, but there was absolutely none then. Even
the dry tips of the lingering hedge-mustard, grey and blighted, and the fringe on the roof
of the standing democrat-wagon were unstirred. And yet amid that tense godless calm the
high bare boughs of all the trees in the yard were moving. They were twitching morbidly
and spasmodically, clawing in convulsive and epileptic madness at the moonlit clouds;
scratching impotently in the noxious air as if jerked by some allied and bodiless line of
linkage with subterrene horrors writhing and struggling below the black roots.
Not a man breathed for several seconds. Then a cloud of darker depth passed over the
moon, and the silhouette of clutching branches faded out momentarily. At this there was a
general cry; muffled with awe, but husky and almost identical from every throat. For the
terror had not faded with the silhouette, and in a fearsome instant of deeper darkness the
watchers saw wriggling at that tree top height a thousand tiny points of faint and
unhallowed radiance, tipping each bough like the fire of St. Elmo or the flames that come
down on the apostles' heads at Pentecost. It was a monstrous constellation of unnatural
light, like a glutted swarm of corpse-fed fireflies dancing hellish sarabands over an
accursed marsh, and its colour was that same nameless intrusion which Ammi had come
to recognize and dread. All the while the shaft of phosphorescence from the well was
getting brighter and brighter, bringing to the minds of the huddled men, a sense of doom
and abnormality which far outraced any image their conscious minds could form. It was
no longer shining out; it was pouring out; and as the shapeless stream of unplaceable
colour left the well it seemed to flow directly into the sky.
The veterinary shivered, and walked to the front door to drop the heavy extra bar across
it. Ammi shook no less, and had to tug and point for lack of controllable voice when he
wished to draw notice to the growing luminosity of the trees. The neighing and stamping
of the horses had become utterly frightful, but not a soul of that group in the old house
would have ventured forth for any earthly reward. With the moments the shining of the
trees increased, while their restless branches seemed to strain more and more toward
verticality. The wood of the well-sweep was shining now, and presently a policeman
dumbly pointed to some wooden sheds and bee-hives near the stone wall on the west.
They were commencing to shine, too, though the tethered vehicles of the visitors seemed
so far unaffected. Then there was a wild commotion and clopping in the road, and as
Ammi quenched the lamp for better seeing they realized that the span of frantic greys had
broken their sapling and run off with the democrat-wagon.
The Colour Out of Space
The shock served to loosen several tongues, and embarrassed whispers were exchanged.
"It spreads on everything organic that's been around here," muttered the medical
examiner. No one replied, but the man who had been in the well gave a hint that his long
pole must have stirred up something intangible. "It was awful," he added. "There was no
bottom at all. Just ooze and bubbles and the feeling of something lurking under there."
Ammi's horse still pawed and screamed deafeningly in the road outside, and nearly
drowned its owner's faint quaver as he mumbled his formless reflections. "It come from
that stone - it growed down thar - it got everything livin' - it fed itself on 'em, mind and
body - Thad an' Merwin, Zenas an' Nabby - Nahum was the last - they all drunk the water
- it got strong on 'em - it come from beyond, whar things ain't like they be here - now it's
goin' home -"
At this point, as the column of unknown colour flared suddenly stronger and began to
weave itself into fantastic suggestions of shape which each spectator described
differently, there came from poor tethered Hero such a sound as no man before or since
ever heard from a horse. Every person in that low-pitched sitting room stopped his ears,
and Ammi turned away from the window in horror and nausea. Words could not convey
it - when Ammi looked out again the hapless beast lay huddled inert on the moonlit
ground between the splintered shafts of the buggy. That was the last of Hero till they
buried him next day. But the present was no time to mourn, for almost at this instant a
detective silently called attention to something terrible in the very room with them. In the
absence of the lamplight it was clear that a faint phosphorescence had begun to pervade
the entire apartment. It glowed on the broad-planked floor and the fragment of rag carpet,
and shimmered over the sashes of the small-paned windows. It ran up and down the
exposed corner-posts, coruscated about the shelf and mantel, and infected the very doors
and furniture. Each minute saw it strengthen, and at last it was very plain that healthy
living things must leave that house.
Ammi showed them the back door and the path up through the fields to the ten-acre
pasture. They walked and stumbled as in a dream, and did not dare look back till they
were far away on the high ground. They were glad of the path, for they could not have
gone the front way, by that well. It was bad enough passing the glowing barn and sheds,
and those shining orchard trees with their gnarled, fiendish contours; but thank Heaven
the branches did their worst twisting high up. The moon went under some very black
clouds as they crossed the rustic bridge over Chapman's Brook, and it was blind groping
from there to the open meadows.
When they looked back toward the valley and the distant Gardner place at the bottom
they saw a fearsome sight. At the farm was shining with the hideous unknown blend of
colour; trees, buildings, and even such grass and herbage as had not been wholly changed
to lethal grey brittleness. The boughs were all straining skyward, tipped with tongues of
foul flame, and lambent tricklings of the same monstrous fire were creeping about the
ridgepoles of the house, barn and sheds. It was a scene from a vision of Fuseli, and over
all the rest reigned that riot of luminous amorphousness, that alien and undimensioned
rainbow of cryptic poison from the well - seething, feeling, lapping, reaching,
The Colour Out of Space
scintillating, straining, and malignly bubbling in its cosmic and unrecognizable
chromaticism.
Then without warning the hideous thing shot vertically up toward the sky like a rocket or
meteor, leaving behind no trail and disappearing through a round and curiously regular
hole in the clouds before any man could gasp or cry out. No watcher can ever forget that
sight, and Ammi stared blankly at the stars of Cygnus, Deneb twinkling above the others,
where the unknown colour had melted into the Milky Way. But his gaze was the next
moment called swiftly to earth by the crackling in the valley. It was just that. Only a
wooden ripping and crackling, and not an explosion, as so many others of the party
vowed. Yet the outcome was the same, for in one feverish kaleidoscopic instant there
burst up from that doomed and accursed farm a gleamingly eruptive cataclysm of
unnatural sparks and substance; blurring the glance of the few who saw it, and sending
forth to the zenith a bombarding cloudburst of such coloured and fantastic fragments as
our universe must needs disown. Through quickly reclosing vapours they followed the
great morbidity that had vanished, and in another second they had vanished too. Behind
and below was only a darkness to which the men dared not return, and all about was a
mounting wind which seemed to sweep down in black, frore gusts from interstellar space.
It shrieked and howled, and lashed the fields and distorted woods in a mad cosmic frenzy,
till soon the trembling party realized it would be no use waiting for the moon to show
what was left down there at Nahum's.
Too awed even to hint theories, the seven shaking men trudged back toward Arkham by
the north road. Ammi was worse than his fellows, and begged them to see him inside his
own kitchen, instead of keeping straight on to town. He did not wish to cross the blighted,
wind-whipped woods alone to his home on the main road. For he had had an added shock
that the others were spared, and was crushed forever with a brooding fear he dared not
even mention for many years to come. As the rest of the watchers on that tempestuous
hill had stolidly set their faces toward the road, Ammi had looked back an instant at the
shadowed valley of desolation so lately sheltering his ill-starred friend. And from that
stricken, far-away spot he had seen something feebly rise, only to sink down again upon
the place from which the great shapeless horror had shot into the sky. It was just a colour
- but not any colour of our earth or heavens. And because Ammi recognized that colour,
and knew that this last faint remnant must still lurk down there in the well, he has never
been quite right since.
Ammi would never go near the place again. It is forty-four years now since the horror
happened, but he has never been there, and will be glad when the new reservoir blots it
out. I shall be glad, too, for I do not like the way the sunlight changed colour around the
mouth of that abandoned well I passed. I hope the water will always be very deep - but
even so, I shall never drink it. I do not think I shall visit the Arkham country hereafter.
Three of the men who had been with Ammi returned the next morning to see the ruins by
daylight, but there were not any real ruins. Only the bricks of the chimney, the stones of
the cellar, some mineral and metallic litter here and there, and the rim of that nefandous
well. Save for Ammi's dead horse, which they towed away and buried, and the buggy
which they shortly returned to him, everything that had ever been living had gone. Five
The Colour Out of Space
eldritch acres of dusty grey desert remained, nor has anything ever grown there since. To
this day it sprawls open to the sky like a great spot eaten by acid in the woods and fields,
and the few who have ever dared glimpse it in spite of the rural tales have named it "the
blasted heath."
The rural tales are queer. They might be even queerer if city men and college chemists
could be interested enough to analyze the water from that disused well, or the grey dust
that no wind seems to disperse. Botanists, too, ought to study the stunted flora on the
borders of that spot, for they might shed light on the country notion that the blight is
spreading - little by little, perhaps an inch a year. People say the colour of the
neighboring herbage is not quite right in the spring, and that wild things leave queer
prints in the light winter snow. Snow never seems quite so heavy on the blasted heath as
it is elsewhere. Horses - the few that are left in this motor age - grow skittish in the silent
valley; and hunters cannot depend on their dogs too near the splotch of greyish dust.
They say the mental influences are very bad, too; numbers went queer in the years after
Nahum's taking, and always they lacked the power to get away. Then the strongerminded
folk all left the region, and only the foreigners tried to live in the crumbling old
homesteads. They could not stay, though; and one sometimes wonders what insight
beyond ours their wild, weird stories of whispered magic have given them. Their dreams
at night, they protest, are very horrible in that grotesque country; and surely the very look
of the dark realm is enough to stir a morbid fancy. No traveler has ever escaped a sense
of strangeness in those deep ravines, and artists shiver as they paint thick woods whose
mystery is as much of the spirits as of the eye. I myself am curious about the sensation I
derived from my one lone walk before Ammi told me his tale. When twilight came I had
vaguely wished some clouds would gather, for an odd timidity about the deep skyey
voids above had crept into my soul.
Do not ask me for my opinion. I do not know - that is all. There was no one but Ammi to
question; for Arkham people will not talk about the strange days, and all three professors
who saw the aerolite and its coloured globule are dead. There were other globules -
depend upon that. One must have fed itself and escaped, and probably there was another
which was too late. No doubt it is still down the well - I know there was something
wrong with the sunlight I saw above the miasmal brink. The rustics say the blight creeps
an inch a year, so perhaps there is a kind of growth or nourishment even now. But
whatever demon hatchling is there, it must be tethered to something or else it would
quickly spread. Is it fastened to the roots of those trees that claw the air? One of the
current Arkham tales is about fat oaks that shine and move as they ought not to do at
night.
What it is, only God knows. In terms of matter I suppose the thing Ammi described
would be called a gas, but this gas obeyed the laws that are not of our cosmos. This was
no fruit of such worlds and suns as shine on the telescopes and photographic plates of our
observatories. This was no breath from the skies whose motions and dimensions our
astronomers measure or deem too vast to measure. It was just a colour out of space - a
frightful messenger from unformed realms of infinity beyond all Nature as we know it;
The Colour Out of Space
from realms whose mere existence stuns the brain and numbs us with the black extracosmic
gulfs it throws open before our frenzied eyes.
I doubt very much if Ammi consciously lied to me, and I do not think his tale was all a
freak of madness as the townsfolk had forewarned. Something terrible came to the hills
and valleys on that meteor, and something terrible - though I know not in what proportion
- still remains. I shall be glad to see the water come. Meanwhile I hope nothing will
happen to Ammi. He saw so much of the thing - and its influence was so insidious. Why
has he never been able to move away? How clearly he recalled those dying words of
Nahum's - "Can't git away - draws ye - ye know summ'at's comin' but tain't no use - ".
Ammi is such a good old man - when the reservoir gang gets to work I must write the
chief engineer to keep a sharp watch on him. I would hate to think of him as the grey,
twisted, brittle monstrosity which persists more and more in troubling my sleep.