It seems totally incredible to me now that everyone spent that evening
as though it were just like any other.
From the railway station came the sound of shunting trains,
ringing and rumbling, softened almost into melody by the distance.
It all seemed so safe and tranquil.
Next morning a crowd gathered on the common,
hypnotized by the unscrewing of the cylinder.
Two feet of shining screw projected when suddenly,
the lid fell off.
Two luminous, disk-like eyes appeared above the rim.
A huge rounded bulk, larger than a bear, rose up slowly,
glistening like wet leather.
Its lip-less mouth quivered and slathered, and snakelike tentacles
writhed as the clumsy body heaved and pulsated.
A few young men crept closer to the pit.
A tall funnel rose and an invisible ray of heat leapt from man to man,
and there was a bright glare as each was instantly turned to fire.
Every tree and bush became a mass of flames at the touch of this
savage, unearthly heat ray.
People clawed their way off the common, and I ran too.
I felt I was being toyed with, that when I was on the very verge
of safety this mysterious death would leap after me and strike me down.
At last I reached Maybury Hill, and in the dim coolness of my home
I wrote an account for my newspaper
before I sank into a restless, haunted sleep.