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      "0": " From Beyond\n\nBy Howard Phillips Lovecraft in 1920, and first published in \"The Fantasy\nFan\" June 1934.\n\nHorrible beyond conception was the change which had taken place in my best\nfriend, Crawford Tillinghast. I had not seen him since that day, two months\nand a half before, when he told me toward what goal his physical and\nmeta-physical researches were leading; when he had answered my awed and\nalmost frightened remonstrance's by driving me from his laboratory and his\nhouse in a burst of fanatical rage, I had known that he now remained mostly\nshut in the attic laboratory with that accursed electrical machine, eating\nlittle and excluding even the servants, but I had not thought that a brief\nperiod of ten weeks could so alter and disfigure any human creature. It is\nnot pleasant to see a stout man sud-denly grown thin, and it is even worse\nwhen the baggy skin becomes yellowed or grayed, the eyes sunken, circled,\nand uncannily glowing, the forehead veined and corrugated, and the hands\ntremulous and twitching. And if added to this there be a repellent\nunkemptness, a wild disorder of dress, a bushiness of dark hair white at\nthe roots, and an unchecked growth of white beard on a face once\nclean-shaven, the cu-mulative effect is quite shocking. But such was the\naspect of Crawford Tilllinghast on the night his half coherent message\nbrought me to his door after my weeks of exile; such was the specter that\ntrembled as it admitted me, candle in hand, and glanced furtively over its\nshoulder as if fearful of unseen things in the ancient, lonely house set\nback from Benevolent street.\n\nThat Crawford Tilinghast should ever have studied science and philosophy\nwas a mistake. These things should be left to the frigid and impersonal\ninvestigator for they offer two equally tragic alternatives to the man of\nfeeling and action; despair, if he fail in his quest, and terrors\nunutterable and unimaginable if he succeed. Tillinghast had once been the\nprey of failure, solitary and melancholy; but now I knew, with nauseating\nfears of my own, that he was the prey of success. I had indeed warned him\nten weeks before, when he burst forth with his tale of what he felt himself\nabout to discover. He had been flushed and excited then, talking in a high\nand unnatural, though always pedantic, voice.\n\n\"What do we know,\" he had said, \"of the world and the universe about us?\nOur means of receiving impressions are absurdly few, and our notions of\nsurrounding objects infinitely narrow. We see things only as we are\nconstructed to see them, and can gain no idea of their absolute nature.\nWith five feeble senses we pretend to comprehend the boundlessly complex\ncosmos, yet other beings with wider, stronger, or different range of senses\nmight not only see very dif-ferently the things we see, but might see and\nstudy whole worlds of matter, energy, and life which lie close at hand yet\ncan never be detected with the senses we have. I have always believed that\nsuch strange, inaccessible worlds exist at our very elbows, and now I\nbelieve I have found a way to break dawn the barriers. I am not joking.\nWithin twenty-four hours that machine near the table will generate waves\nacting on unrecognized sense organs that exist in us as atrophied or\nrudimentary vestiges. Those waves will open up to us many vistas unknown to\nman and several unknown to anything we consider organic life. We shall see\nthat at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their\nears after midnight. We shall see these things, and other things which no\nbreathing creature has yet seen. We shall overleap time, space, and\ndimensions, and without bodily motion peer to the bottom of creation.\"\n\nWhen Tilliinghaut said these things I remonstrated, for I knew him well\nenough to be frightened rather than amused; but he was a fanatic, and drove\nme from the house. Now he was no less a fanatic, but his desire to speak\nhad conquered his resentment, and he had written me imperatively in a hand\nI could scarcely recognize. As I entered the abode of the friend so\nsuddenly metamorphosed to a shivering gargoyle, I became infected with the\nterror which seemed stalking in all the shadows. The words and beliefs\nexpressed ten weeks before seemed bodied forth in the darkness beyond the\nsmall circle of candle light, and I sickened at the hollow, altered voice\nof my host. I wished the servants were about, and did not like it when he\nsaid they had all left three days previously. It seemed strange that old\nGregory, at least, should desert his master without telling as tried a\nfriend as I. It was he who had given me all the information I had of\nTillinghast after I was repulsed in rage.\n\nYet I soon subordinated all my fears to my growing curiosity and\nfascination. Just what Crawford Tillinghast now wished of me I could only\nguess, but that he had some stupendous secret or discovery to impart, I\ncould not doubt. Before I had protested at his unnatural pryings into the\nunthinkable; now that he had evidently succeeded to some degree I almost\nshared his spirit, terrible though the cost of victory appeared. Up through\nthe dark emptiness of the house I followed the bobbing candle in the hand\nof this shaking parody on man. The electricity seemed to be turned off, and\nwhen I asked my guide he said it was for a definite reason.\n\n\"It would he too much . . . I would not dare,\" he contin-ued to mutter. I\nespecially noted his new habit of muttering, for it was not like him to\ntalk to himself. We entered the laboratory in the attic, and I observed\nthat detestable elec-trical machine, glowing with a sickly, sinister violet\nluminos-ity. It was connected with a powerful chemical battery, but seemed\nto be receiving no current; for I recalled that in experimental stage it\nhad sputtered and purred when in action. In reply to my question\nTillinghast mumbled that this permanent glow was not electrical in any\nsense that I could understand.\n\nHe now seated me near the machine, so that it was on my right, and turned a\nswitch somewhere below the crowning cluster of glass bulbs. The usual\nsputtering began, turned to a whine, and terminated in a drone so soft as\nto suggest a return to silence. Meanwhile the luminosity increased, waned\nagain, then assumed a pale, ontre colour or blend of colours which I could\nneither place nor describe. Tillinghast had been watching me, and noted my\npuzzled expression.\n\n\"Do you know what that is?\" he whispered, \"that is ultra-violet.\" He\nchuckled oddly at my surprise. \"You thought ultra-violet was invisible, and\nso it is -- but you can see that and many other invisible things now.\"\n\n\"Listen to me! The waves from that thing are waking a thousand sleeping\nsenses in us; senses which we inherit from aeons of evolution from the\nstate of detached electrons to the state of organic humanity. I have seen\nthe truth, and I intend to show it to you. Do you wonder how it will seem?\nI will tell you.\" Here Trninghast seated himself directly opposite me,\nblowing out his candle and staring hideously into my eyes. \"Your existing\nsense-organs -- ears first, I think -- will pick up many of the\nimpressions, for they are closely connected with the dormant organs. Then\nthere will be others. You have heard of the pineal gland? I laugh at the\nshallow endocrinologist, fellow - dupe and fellow - parvenu of the\nFreudian. That gland is the great sense organ of organs -- I have found\nout. It is like sight in the end, and transmits visual pictures to the\nbrain. If you are normal, that is the way you ought to get most of it . . .\nI mean get most of the evidence from beyond.\"\n\nI looked about the immense attic room with the sloping south wall, dimly\nlit by rays which the every day eye cannot see. The far corners were all\nshadows and the whole place took on a hazy unreality which obscured its\nnature and in-vited the imagination to symbolism and phantasm. During the\ninterval that Tillinghast was long silent I fancied myself in some vast\nincredible temple of long-dead gods; some vague edifice of innumerable\nblack stone columns reaching up from a floor of damp slabs to a cloudy\nheight beyond the range of my vision. The picture was very vivid for a\nwhile, but gradually gave way to a more horrible conception; that of utter,\nabsolute solitude in infinite, sightless, soundless space. There seemed to\na void, and nothing more, and I felt a childish fear which prompted me to\ndraw from my hip pocket the revolver I carried after dark since the night I\nwas held up in East Providence. Then from the farthermost regions of\nremoteness, the sound softly glided into existence. It was infinitely\nfaint, subtly vibrant, and unmistakably musi-cal, but held a quality of\nsurpassing wildness which made its impact feel like a delicate torture of\nmy whole body. I felt sensations like those one feels when accidentally\nscratching ground glass. Simultaneously there developed something like a\ncold draught, which apparently swept past me from the direction of the\ndistant sound. As I waited breathlessly I perceived that both sound and\nwind were increasing; the ef-fect being to give me an odd notion of myself\nas tied to a pair of rails in the path of a gigantic approaching\nlocomotive. I began to speak to Tillinghast, and as I did so all the\nunusual impressions abruptly vanished. I saw only the man, the glowing\nmachines, and the dim apartment. Tillinghast was grinning repulsively at\nthe revolver which I had almost unconsciously drawn, but from his\nexpression I was sure he had seen and heard as much as I, if not a great\ndeal more. I whispered what I had experienced and he bade me to re-main as\nquiet and receptive as possible.\n\n\"Don't move,\" he cautioned, 'for in these rays we are able to be seen as\nwell as to see. I told you the servants left, but I didn't tell you how. It\nwas that thick-witted house-keeper - - she turned on the lights downstairs\nafter I had warned her not to, and the wires picked up sympathetic\nvibrations. It must have been frightful -- I could hear the screams up here\nin spite of all I was seeing and hearing from another direction, and later\nit was rather awful to find those empty heaps of clothes around the house.\nMrs. Updike's clothes were close to the front hall switch that's how I know\nshe did it. It got them all. But go long as we don't move we're fairly\nsafe. Remember we're dealing with a hideous world in which we are\npractically helpless. . . . Keep still!\"\n\nThe combined shock of the revelation and of the abrupt command gave me a\nkind of paralysis, and in my terror my mind again opened to the impressions\ncoming from what Til-linghast called \"beyond.\" I was now in a vortex of\nsound and motion, with confused pictures before my eyes. I saw the blurred\noutlines of the room, but from some point in space there seemed to be\npouring a seething column of unrecognizable shapes or clouds, penetrating\nthe solid roof at a point ahead and to the right of me. Then I glimpsed the\ntemple - like effect again, but this time the pillars reached up into an\naerial ocean of light, which sent down one blinding beam along the path of\nthe cloudy column I had seen before. After that the scene was almost wholly\nkaleidoscopic, and in the jumble of sights, sounds, and unidentified\nsense-impressions I felt that I was about to dissolve or in some way lose\nthe solid form. One definite flash I shall always remember. I seemed for an\ninstant to behold a patch of strange night sky filled with shining,\nrevolving spheres, and as it receded I saw that the glowing suns formed a\nconstellation or galaxy of settled shape; this shape being the distorted\nface of Crawford Tillinghast. At another time I felt the huge animate\nthings brushing past me and occasionally walking or drifting through my\nsupposedly solid body, and thought I saw TiIiiinghast look at them as\nthough his better trained senses could catch them visually. I recalled what\nhe had said of the pineal gland, and wondered what he saw with this\npreternatural eye.\n\nSuddenly I myself became possessed of a kind of augmented sight. Over and\nabove the luminous and shadowy chaos arose a picture which, though vague,\nheld the elements of consist-ency and permanence. It was indeed somewhat\nfamiliar, for the unusual part was superimposed upon the usual terrestrial\nscene much as a cinema view may be thrown upon the painted curtain of a\ntheater. I saw the attic laboratory, the electrical machine, and the\nunsightly form of Tillinghast op-posite me; but of all the space unoccupied\nby familiar objects not one particle was vacant. Indescribable shapes both\nalive and otherwise were mixed in disgusting disarray, and close to every\nknown thing were whole worlds of alien, unknown entities. It likewise\nseemed that all the known things entered into the composition of other\nunknown things and vice versa. Foremost among the living objects were inky,\njellyfish mon-strosities which flabbily quivered in harmony with the\nvibra-tions from the machine. They were present in loathsome profusion, and\nI saw to my horror that they overlapped; that they were semi - fluid and\ncapable of passing through one an-other and through what we know as solids.\nThese things were never still, but seemed ever floating about with some\nmalignant purpose. Sometimes they appeared to devour one another, the\nattacker launching itself at its victim and instan-taneously obliterating\nthe latter from sight. Shudderingly I felt that I knew what had obliterated\nthe unfortunate serv-ants, and could not exclude the thing from my mind as\nI strove to observe other properties of the newly visible world that lies\nunseen around us. But Tillinghast had been watching me and was speaking.\n\n\"You see them? You see them? You see the things that float and flop about\nyou and through you every moment of your life? You see the creatures that\nform what men call the pure air and the blue sky? Have I not succeeded in\nbreaking down the barrier; have I not shown you worlds that no other living\nmen have seen?\" I heard his scream through the hor-rible chaos, and looked\nat the wild face thrust so offensively close to mine. His eyes were pits of\nflame, and they glared at me with what I now saw was overwhelming hatred.\nThe machine droned detestably.\n\n\"You think those floundering things wiped Out the servants? Fool, they are\nharmless! But the servants are gone, aren't they? You tried to stop me; you\ndiscouraged me when I needed every drop of encouragement I could get; you\nwere afraid of the cosmic truth, you damned coward, but now I've got you!\nWhat swept up the servants? What made them scream so loud? . . . Don't\nknow, ehl You'll know soon enough. Look at me -- listen to what I say - -\ndo you suppose there are really any such things as time and magnitude? Do\nyou fancy there are such things as form or matter? I tell you, I have\nstruck depths that your little brain can't picture. I have seen beyond the\nbounds of infinity and drawn down daemons from the stars . . . I have\nharnessed the shadows that stride from world to world to sow death and\nmadness. . . . Space belongs to me, do you hear? Things are hunting me now\n- - the things that devour and dissolve - - but I know how to elude them.\nIt is you they will get, as they got the servants. . . . Stirring. dear\nsir? I told you it was dangerous to move, I have saved you so far by\ntelling you to keep still - - saved you to see more sights and to listen to\nme. If you had moved, they would have been at you long ago. Don't worry,\nthey won't hurt you. They didn't hurt the servants - - it was the seeing\nthat made the poor devils scream so. My pets are not pretty, for they come\nout of places where aes-thetic standards are very different. Disintegration\nis quite painless, I assure you - - but I want you to see them. I almost\nsaw them, but I knew how to stop. You are curious? I always knew you were\nno scientist Trembling, eh. Trembling with anxiety to see the ultimate\nthings I have discovered. Why don't you move, then? Tired? Well, don't\nworry, my friend, for they are coming . . . Look, look, curse you, look . .\n. it's just over your left shoulder. . . . \"\n\nWhat remains to be told is very brief, and may be familiar to you from the\nnewspaper accounts. The police heard a shot in the old Tillinghast house\nand found us there - - Tillinghast dead and me unconscious They arrested me\nbecause the revolver was in my hand, but released me in three hours, after\nthey found it was apoplexy which had finished Tillinghast and saw that my\nshot had been directed at the noxious machine which now lay hopelessly\nshattered on the laboratory floor. I did not tell very much of what I had\nseen, for I feared the coroner would be skeptical; but from the evasive\noutline I did give, the doctor told me that I had undoubtedly been\nhypnotized by the vindictive and homicidal madman.\n\nI wish I could believe that doctor. It would help my shaky nerves if I\ncould dismiss what I now have to think of the air and the sky about and\nabove me. I never feel alone or comfortable, and a hideous sense of pursuit\nsometimes comes chillingly on me when I am weary. What prevents me from\nnever' g the doctor is this simple fact - - that the police never found the\nbodies of those servants whom they say Crawford Tillinghast murdered."
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