The Horror Out of Space


Even as I write this, I know my tale will be dismissed as the ravings of a diseased mind.  
Nearly all the hard evidence that would support my claim is gone now; the strange stone, 
the poor farmers whose land it fell on, the shadowy figure...all that remains is a patch of 
land that will never see life again.  But no matter how disturbed I may appear, my story is 
a matter of fact and not fancy.  I can only hope that a few will read this without judging 
me insane, and see for themselves that what I say cannot be anything but the cold, hard 
truth.  I pray only that my warning will serve to keep the curious away from that accursed 
place, where horrors once lurked and may still be found.

As the local scholar of the earth sciences, I was called out to a farmstead in the 
countryside by a farmer who claimed that a stone from the stars had fallen on his land.  
My initial skepticism vanished as soon as I laid eyes on the thing, and my investigation 
proved that it resembled nothing that could be found on this earth.  Although it looked 
very much like a rock from a distance, it was as smooth as skin, and so hard none of my 
instruments could penetrate it.  The farmer was very excited, and asked repeatedly how 
much he might sell it for, but something about the stone made me uneasy.  The way the 
light reflected off its surface felt unnatural and wrong, and I could swear that I saw it 
move slightly once out of the corner of my eye.  I told the man I would consult with my 
colleagues, and that more data was needed before any monetary value could be placed on 
the strange rock.

A few days later I was awakened early in the morning by a panicked hammering on my 
door.  I opened it to find the farmer on my doorstep, who frantically told me that the 
stone had changed and that something was wrong with his land.  When I arrived at the 
farmstead I, too, saw that there was something different about the rock.  It had shrunk 
slightly, and its shape was not the same.  The texture was rougher now, almost scaly, and 
was pliable in a vaguely rubbery fashion, though I still could not cut it.  More shocking 
was the circle of dead plant life around the thing.  More so than ever, I felt that that the 
stone was wrong and horrible, though I could not explain why.  My fear of it was 
irrational, and so I tried to dismiss it as ridiculous and unscientific, but now I wish I had 
expressed my growing disquiet.  Perhaps the farmer and his family would still be alive if 
I had only told them of my concerns, mad though they seemed.

The farmer was, understandably, worried that the blight would spread and ruin his crop, 
and I told him that I would return the next day with more equipment.  I assured him that 
the stone had most likely poisoned a small section of his land, but that it should not 
spread too much further.  I was no longer certain that my scientific knowledge could 
predict anything about the rock or its effects on our earth, but this calmed the farmer 
somewhat.

When I returned the next day, I was surprised to see that the farmer was not outside 
waiting for my arrival.  Upon entering the house, I discovered that the entire family was 
suffering from what appeared to be a severe case of food poisoning.  They told me they 
had eaten some vegetables from the far end of the plot, as far away from the circle of 
blight as possible, thinking that anything at that distance would be safe.  I was horrified to 
see that the circle had nearly doubled, but when I tested the soil I found no signs of 
contaminants.  The stone was warm to the touch now, though it had been cold when it fell 
from the sky, and this change filled me with fear.  It took a great deal of courage to go 
inside and tell the sick farmer what I had learned, instead of departing for my home with 
all haste.

The family had not recovered the next morning; if anything, they were worse.  Moreover, 
the farmer's youngest son was nowhere to be found, though no one had noticed his 
disappearance.  I treated them as best I could, but since I was not a doctor I could do 
little.  I searched the farmstead for the missing child, but of him there was no sign.  The 
blight had expanded again, and I could not bring myself to approach the stone.  In all 
likelihood, the fear and loathing I saw as irrational was all that saved me from suffering 
the same fate as the farmer.

The following day I am still hesitant to describe, as the unparallel horrors that I witnessed 
still make me shudder when I think of them.  I had been held up with other pressing tasks, 
and did not reach the farmstead until it was nearly dark.  I entered the household with 
great trepidation, and to my dismay found the place as silent as a tomb.  Upstairs I 
discovered the farmer's daughter, dead of whatever ghastly affliction had cursed the 
family.  Her skin was grey and blotchy, and it was apparent she had not died peacefully.  
I closed the door quickly and continued my searching, desperately hoping that there was 
still someone alive in the household.  I found the farmer in the master bedroom, as grey 
and still as his daughter, seated in a chair beside the bed, where his wife's body lay.  I 
received a shock beyond telling when the man turned listlessly and looked at me with 
dead eyes, then spoke words that have been burned into my memory forever.

"Professor ... ya got to ... get out of here ... the stone ... not a stone ... cursed my land 
... took Jimmy ... sucked the life ... outta us all ... saw it movin' ...last night, in the dark 
... shoulda gotten ... rid of the damn thing ... soon as it came down ... too late now ... 
it's a monster ... Professor ... an ungodly monster ... from the sky ... a thing that ... 
shouldn't be ... but it's here ... killin' us ... killin' the land ... run Professor ... before it 
gets you too ...

Then he collapsed on the floor, lifeless, and it wasn't until I felt the wind on my face that 
I realized I had run.  Only stark terror halted my departure, as I saw that the stone was 
gone, and a great slithering trail of blight, like a monstrous snake or worm, led away from 
the hole where the stone had been only hours before.  I found myself following the trail, 
morbidly drawn to see the horrible thing that had caused all this.

The path led me to a low hill, and it was there that I saw it for the first and last time.  In 
the dim light I could only make out the barest outlines, and for this I am infinitely 
grateful.  It looked like a huge snake, over seven feet tall and upright like a cobra, with 
two appendages that can only be described as vaguely resembling arms, ending in long 
spikes instead of hands.  It had a hideous, elongated maw, and loose flaps on both sides 
of its head that opened to release a horrid-looking gas.  Just the sight of the blasphemous, 
unnatural thing nearly drove me mad, and even now I am not as whole and healthy as I 
was before it came here.

Shortly after I arrived, a tall, robed man walked onto the hill.  His head was hooded and I 
could make out no discernable characteristics of his face or body, but his purposeful 
stride informed me that he was here for the thing.  From my distance I could not hear 
what they said, but the horrible, grating speech of the creature was unbearable, and the 
knowledge that it was speaking a human language with its alien vocal cords even worse.  
Finally, the man and monster left together, walking towards a forest that few dared to 
enter.

The urge to follow the path vanished, and I collapsed on the ground in exhaustion.  When 
some of my strength returned to me, I made my way back to the farmstead.  I could not 
overcome my fear and enter the household, so I burned it to the ground.  Hopefully the 
farmer and his family will have some peace in Heaven, and will forgive me for not 
burying them as I should have done.

I never went back to that accursed place, and never will.  Even now, years later, the terror 
of that night is still fresh in my mind, and it is only my duty as a scholar that makes me 
write this; I would not willingly think of such things otherwise.  No one I have talked to 
has seen the blasphemous thing, but it exists, and God only knows where on our world it 
is now.  The robed man who took it away wanted it for a purpose I will not reflect on, 
and, worst of all, I am convinced he called it here in the first place.