AN INHABITANT OF CARCOSA
by Ambrose Bierce
For there be divers sorts of death--some wherein
the body remaineth; and in some it vanisheth
quite away with the spirit. This commonly occurreth
only in solitude (such is God's will) and, none
seeing the end, we say the man is lost, or gone
on a long journey--which indeed he hath; but
sometimes it hath happened in sight of many,
as abundant testimony showeth. In one kind of
death the spirit also dieth, and this it hath
been known to do while yet the body was in
vigor for many years. Sometimes, as is veritably
attested, it dieth with the body, but after a
season is raised up again in that place where
the body did decay.
Pondering these words of Hali (whom God rest)
and questioning their full meaning, as one who,
having an intimation, yet doubts if there be
not something behind, other than that which
he has discerned, I noted not whither I had
strayed until a sudden chill wind striking my
face revived in me a sense of my surroundings.
I observed with astonishment that everything
seemed unfamiliar. On every side of me stretched
a bleak and desolate expanse of plain, covered
with a tall overgrowth of sere grass, which
rustled and whistled in the autumn wind with
heaven knows what mysterious and disquieting
suggestion. Protruded at long intervals above
it, stood strangely shaped and somber-colored
rocks, which seemed to have an understanding
with one another and to exchange looks of
uncomfortable significance, as if they had
reared their heads to watch the issue of some
foreseen event. A few blasted trees here and
there appeared as leaders in this malevolent
conspiracy of silent expectation.
The day, I thought, must be far advanced, though
the sun was invisible; and although sensible
that the air was raw and chill my consciousness
of that fact was rather mental than physical--I
had no feeling of discomfort. Over all the dismal
landscape a canopy of low, lead-colored clouds
hung like a visible curse. In all this there
were a menace and a portent--a hint of evil,
an intimation of doom. Bird, beast, or insect
there was none. The wind sighed in the bare
branches of the dead trees and the gray grass
bent to whisper its dread secret to the earth;
but no other sound nor motion broke the awful
repose of that dismal place.
I observed in the herbage a number of weather-worn
stones, evidently shaped with tools. They were
broken, covered with moss and half sunken in
the earth. Some lay prostrate, some leaned at
various angles, none was vertical. They were
obviously headstones of graves, though the
graves themselves no longer existed as either
mounds or depressions; the years had leveled
all. Scattered here and there, more massive
blocks showed where some pompous tomb or
ambitious monument had once flung its feeble
defiance at oblivion. So old seemed these
relics, these vestiges of vanity and memorials
of affection and piety, so battered and worn
and stained--so neglected, deserted, forgotten
the place, that I could not help thinking
myself the discoverer of the burial-ground
of a prehistoric race of men whose very name
was long extinct.
Filled with these reflections, I was for some
time heedless of the sequence of my own experiences,
but soon I thought, "How came I hither?" A
moment's reflection seemed to make this all
clear and explain at the same time, though in
a disquieting way, the singular character with
which my fancy had invested all that I saw or
heard. I was ill. I remembered now that I had
been prostrated by a sudden fever, and that my
family had told me that in my periods of delirium
I had constantly cried out for liberty and air,
and had been held in bed to prevent my escape
out-of-doors. Now I had eluded the vigilance
of my attendants and had wandered hither to--to
where? I could not conjecture. Clearly I was at
a considerable distance from the city where I
dwelt--the ancient and famous city of Carcosa.
No signs of human life were anywhere visible nor
audible; no rising smoke, no watchdog's bark,
no lowing of cattle, no shouts of children at
play--nothing but that dismal burial-place,
with its air of mystery and dread, due to my
own disordered brain. Was I not becoming again
delirious, there beyond human aid? Was it not
indeed all an illusion of my madness? I called
aloud the names of my wives and sons, reached
out my hands in search of theirs, even as I
walked among the crumbling stones and in the
withered grass.
A noise behind me caused me to turn about. A
wild animal--a lynx--was approaching. The
thought came to me: If I break down here in
the desert--if the fever return and I fail,
this beast will be at my throat. I sprang
toward it, shouting. It trotted tranquilly by
within a hand's breadth of me and disappeared
behind a rock.
A moment later a man's head appeared to rise
out of the ground a short distance away. He
was ascending the farther slope of a low hill
whose crest was hardly to be distinguished
from the general level. His whole figure soon
came into view against the background of gray
cloud. He was half naked, half clad in skins.
His hair was unkempt, his beard long and ragged.
In one hand he carried a bow and arrow; the
other held a blazing torch with a long trail
of black smoke. He walked slowly and with
caution, as if he feared falling into some
open grave concealed by the tall grass. This
strange apparition surprised but did not alarm,
and taking such a course as to intercept him
I met him almost face to face, accosting him
with the familiar salutation, "God keep you."
He gave no heed, nor did he arrest his pace.
"Good stranger," I continued, "I am ill and
lost. Direct me, I beseech you, to Carcosa."
The man broke into a barbarous chant in an
unknown tongue, passing on and away.
An owl on the branch of a decayed tree hooted
dismally and was answered by another in the
distance. Looking upward, I saw through a
sudden rift in the clouds Aldebaran and the
Hyades! In all this there was a hint of night--the
lynx, the man with the torch, the owl. Yet I
saw--I saw even the stars in absence of the
darkness. I saw, but was apparently not seen
nor heard. Under what awful spell did I exist?
I seated myself at the root of a great tree,
seriously to consider what it were best to do.
That I was mad I could no longer doubt, yet
recognized a ground of doubt in the conviction.
Of fever I had no trace. I had, withal, a sense
of exhilaration and vigor altogether unknown
to me--a feeling of mental and physical exaltation.
My senses seemed all alert; I could feel the
air as a ponderous substance; I could hear the
silence.
A great root of the giant tree against whose
trunk I leaned as I sat held inclosed in its
grasp a slab of stone, a part of which protruded
into a recess formed by another root. The
stone was thus partly protected from the weather,
though greatly decomposed. Its edges were worn
round, its corners eaten away, its surface
deeply furrowed and scaled. Glittering particles
of mica were visible in the earth about it--vestiges
of its decomposition. This stone had apparently
marked the grave out of which the tree had sprung
ages ago. The tree's exacting roots had robbed
the grave and made the stone a prisoner.
A sudden wind pushed some dry leaves and twigs
from the uppermost face of the stone; I saw the
low-relief letters of an inscription and bent
to read it. God in Heaven! My name in full!--the
date of my birth!--the date of my death!
A level shaft of light illuminated the whole side
of the tree as I sprang to my feet in terror. The
sun was rising in the rosy east. I stood between
the tree and his broad red disk--no shadow darkened
the trunk!
A chorus of howling wolves saluted the dawn. I saw
them sitting on their haunches, singly and in groups,
on the summits of irregular mounds and tumuli filling
a half of my desert prospect and extending to the
horizon. And then I knew that these were ruins of
the ancient and famous city of Carcosa.
__________________________
Such are the facts imparted to the medium Bayrolles
by the spirit Hoseib Alar Robardin.
~~~~~~~ THE END ~~~~~~~
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