Crooked Wreath
“It was as though with a great thick stick, an invisible giant struck at the very softness of the brain behind the frontal bone; all the flesh shuddered from the impact of the sound, from the thrusting suck and eddy of the blasted air. The spirit screamed to the mind to fight its way to the surface of the engulfing dark; the mind struggling against more merciful nothingness, feebly implored obedience of limbs held captive by horror; wide eyes open upon the upbrush of devastation, sent no message... to the unasking brain. Like a ship destroyed at sea, the great house seemed to rise piecemeal into the air, settling down slowly, low in the water, a huddle of tangled wreckage afloat on the wide green lawns. And as the dust cleared and the wave of the blast that had tumbled them backwards, withdrew, leaving them spent and gasping, Ellen cried out: “My baby!” She staggered a few steps forward and fell fainting to the ground.
Edward did not know that he was running towards the house, that they were all running towards the crumbling house, that he was outstripping them, was rushing, two steps at a time, up the rise of terraces, into the hall and up the crumbling stairs.MoreLess
Edward did not know that he was running towards the house, that they were all running towards the crumbling house, that he was outstripping them, was rushing, two steps at a time, up the rise of terraces, into the hall and up the crumbling stairs.MoreLess
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