《THE WAR OF THE WORLDS (Completed)》Chapter 2- THE FALLING STAR
Advertisement
Then came the night of the first falling star. It was seen early in the morning, rushing over Winchester eastward, a line of flame high in the atmosphere. Hundreds must have seen it, and taken it for an ordinary falling star. Albin described it as leaving a greenish streak behind it that glowed for some seconds. Denning, our greatest authority on meteorites, stated that the height of its first appearance was about ninety or one hundred miles. It seemed to him that it fell to earth about one hundred miles east of him.
I was at home at that hour and writing in my study; and although my French windows face towards Ottershaw and the blind was up (for I loved in those days to look up at the night sky), I saw nothing of it. Yet this strangest of all things that ever came to earth from outer space must have fallen while I was sitting there, visible to me had I only looked up as it passed. Some of those who saw its flight say it travelled with a hissing sound. I myself heard nothing of that. Many people in Berkshire, Surrey, and Middlesex must have seen the fall of it, and, at most, have thought that another meteorite had descended. No one seems to have troubled to look for the fallen mass that night.
But very early in the morning poor Ogilvy, who had seen the shooting star and who was persuaded that a meteorite lay somewhere on the common between Horsell, Ottershaw, and Woking, rose early with the idea of finding it. Find it he did, soon after dawn, and not far from the sand pits. An enormous hole had been made by the impact of the projectile, and the sand and gravel had been flung violently in every direction over the heath, forming heaps visible a mile and a half away. The heather was on fire eastward, and a thin blue smoke rose against the dawn.
The Thing itself lay almost entirely buried in sand, amidst the scattered splinters of a fir tree it had shivered to fragments in its descent. The uncovered part had the appearance of a huge cylinder, caked over and its outline softened by a thick scaly dun-coloured incrustation. It had a diameter of about thirty yards. He approached the mass, surprised at the size and more so at the shape, since most meteorites are rounded more or less completely. It was, however, still so hot from its flight through the air as to forbid his near approach. A stirring noise within its cylinder he ascribed to the unequal cooling of its surface; for at that time it had not occurred to him that it might be hollow.
Advertisement
He remained standing at the edge of the pit that the Thing had made for itself, staring at its strange appearance, astonished chiefly at its unusual shape and colour, and dimly perceiving even then some evidence of design in its arrival. The early morning was wonderfully still, and the sun, just clearing the pine trees towards Weybridge, was already warm. He did not remember hearing any birds that morning, there was certainly no breeze stirring, and the only sounds were the faint movements from within the cindery cylinder. He was all alone on the common.
Then suddenly he noticed with a start that some of the grey clinker, the ashy incrustation that covered the meteorite, was falling off the circular edge of the end. It was dropping off in flakes and raining down upon the sand. A large piece suddenly came off and fell with a sharp noise that brought his heart into his mouth.
For a minute he scarcely realised what this meant, and, although the heat was excessive, he clambered down into the pit close to the bulk to see the Thing more clearly. He fancied even then that the cooling of the body might account for this, but what disturbed that idea was the fact that the ash was falling only from the end of the cylinder.
And then he perceived that, very slowly, the circular top of the cylinder was rotating on its body. It was such a gradual movement that he discovered it only through noticing that a black mark that had been near him five minutes ago was now at the other side of the circumference. Even then he scarcely understood what this indicated, until he heard a muffled grating sound and saw the black mark jerk forward an inch or so. Then the thing came upon him in a flash. The cylinder was artificial--hollow--with an end that screwed out! Something within the cylinder was unscrewing the top!
"Good heavens!" said Ogilvy. "There's a man in it--men in it! Half roasted to death! Trying to escape!"
Advertisement
At once, with a quick mental leap, he linked the Thing with the flash upon Mars.
The thought of the confined creature was so dreadful to him that he forgot the heat and went forward to the cylinder to help turn. But luckily the dull radiation arrested him before he could burn his hands on the still-glowing metal. At that he stood irresolute for a moment, then turned, scrambled out of the pit, and set off running wildly into Woking. The time then must have been somewhere about six o'clock. He met a waggoner and tried to make him understand, but the tale he told and his appearance were so wild--his hat had fallen off in the pit--that the man simply drove on. He was equally unsuccessful with the potman who was just unlocking the doors of the public-house by Horsell Bridge. The fellow thought he was a lunatic at large and made an unsuccessful attempt to shut him into the taproom. That sobered him a little; and when he saw Henderson, the London journalist, in his garden, he called over the palings and made himself understood.
"Henderson," he called, "you saw that shooting star last night?"
"Well?" said Henderson.
"It's out on Horsell Common now."
"Good Lord!" said Henderson. "Fallen meteorite! That's good."
"But it's something more than a meteorite. It's a cylinder--an artificial cylinder, man! And there's something inside."
Henderson stood up with his spade in his hand.
"What's that?" he said. He was deaf in one ear.
Ogilvy told him all that he had seen. Henderson was a minute or so taking it in. Then he dropped his spade, snatched up his jacket, and came out into the road. The two men hurried back at once to the common, and found the cylinder still lying in the same position. But now the sounds inside had ceased, and a thin circle of bright metal showed between the top and the body of the cylinder. Air was either entering or escaping at the rim with a thin, sizzling sound.
They listened, rapped on the scaly burnt metal with a stick, and, meeting with no response, they both concluded the man or men inside must be insensible or dead.
Of course the two were quite unable to do anything. They shouted consolation and promises, and went off back to the town again to get help. One can imagine them, covered with sand, excited and disordered, running up the little street in the bright sunlight just as the shop folks were taking down their shutters and people were opening their bedroom windows. Henderson went into the railway station at once, in order to telegraph the news to London. The newspaper articles had prepared men's minds for the reception of the idea.
By eight o'clock a number of boys and unemployed men had already started for the common to see the "dead men from Mars." That was the form the story took. I heard of it first from my newspaper boy about a quarter to nine when I went out to get my _Daily Chronicle_. I was naturally startled, and lost no time in going out and across the Ottershaw bridge to the sand pits.
Advertisement
Raven Hood (and the Cloak of Azrael)
Long ago, in a nightmarish world created by the minds of humans, a war waged between monsters and angels. Once defeated, the monsters were forced to accept terms of surrender, terms that would enslave them forever. Their supposed hero, a hybrid infant of human and gargoyle blood, is sent off into hiding in the world of humans. All is going according to plan until Revan, a once normal 16-year-old begins going through changes he can't explain. His body is painfully morphing into something freakish and grotesque. Adopted by a Catholic Priest with a dark secret, will Father Donovan banish Revan from his Cathedral home? Or accept him as the demon he is? Or... will he kill him?
8 225FATE TWO[sci-fi/fantasy LIT RPG]
When soul is lost between worlds, one race will do whatever it takes to retrieve it. Even if it means crashing these worlds together in a way the inhabitants of both could never expect. This soul would eventually develop into a human with immeasurable power...but this story isn't about him its about a young boy who was thrust into this whole mess before anyone, and has to figure out how to be strong enough not to repeat the future. ----- The paper read Humanity's last stronghold has been breached under the text a picture of what he recognized as New York, and above it an odd date. “December 8th 2028” Tomb mumbled to himself in shock, “what am i doing 6 years from the present” As if the man had supernatural powers, he heard Tom “Going insane from mana, you crazy mage did you just realise it only took us 3 years to pulverize you fools” the man maniacally laughed. Then turning towards the tall man, he got serious and said “Kanna, if you had just surrendered yourself at first we would have made this takeover much quicker, but you” the man seethed with anger “you fought back, nothing is worse than humans standing together.” The LIT RPG elements have been planned for the future and will not be the main focus but more will be written I assume around chapter 10
8 301A new world a new Chance(DROPPED)
A typical story about a man named John that was teleported to another world called Reath with another chance of life, follow his adventures My First LN so sorry in advance for Mistakes, updates will probably every another day
8 125The Saga of a Reincarnator
Life is not fair...That's what I thought ever since I was born and raised in my family. I was never good enough for them, my efforts all flushed down the drain from the start because of mediocrity. In their eyes, my life and existence were worthless...Even my classmates, all of them looked at me like I was some kind of filth hanging around their blessed school. My heterochromia a petty reason to bully me to the ground.Life sucks...I just hope in this new life I was given, I can finally wash away all my past regrets... Yes, I crossposted this in webnovel and Scribblehub.
8 115The house of Enki Book 1 of, The Meridian Controls
On Meridian when and where you're born is everything. Minute, hour, day, week, month, year; they all matter. Being born under the House of Zabi might bring physical strength, while being born with a Bakara Control can give you the power to speak to the dead. Of the twelve gods, one is avoided at all costs, The Dream God Enki. For Soren, people's fear of Enki has always been a Shadow over her. After all, every single control she has is under The Dream God. Soren can't understand what everyone's so scared of. If her Controls were so dangerous, surely she'd of known by now. Yet when Soren's brother goes missing, those very controls begin pushing her towards her destiny. Whether she’s ready or not. Regular chapter updates every Monday and Friday for the foreseeable future. Please rate and review and let me know how I can improve, thanks!
8 127My Death Bed [COMPLETED]
"Killua!" He desperately shouted to his dear friend. He couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks, much like the blood that was streaming from his dying friend...
8 143