BY ARTHUR ALBRIGHT’S GHOST WRITER….
Arthur’s premonition dream -as told to me by a little bird.
“No one would have believed, in the last years of the nineteenth century, that Albright and Wilson’s affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of space.
No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as someone with a microscope
studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even considered
the possibility of life on other planets and yet, across the gulf of space, minds
immeasurably superior to ours regarded OUR PIT with envious eyes, and slowly and
surely, they drew their plans against us…..
P4 OF THE WORLDS
At midnight on the 9th of September, a huge mass of luminous gas erupted from Klaars
and sped towards Earth. Across two hundred million miles of void, invisibly hurtling
towards us, came the first of the missiles that were to bring so much calamity to the Barnett pit.
As I watched, there was another jet of gas. It was another missile, starting on its way.
And that’s how it was for the next ten nights. A flare, spurting out from Klaars – bright
green, drawing a green mist behind it – a beautiful, but somehow disturbing sight, and a rotten smell of fish. Whitford, the astrologer, assured me we were in no danger. He was convinced there could be no living thing on that remote, forbidding planet.
“The chances of anything coming from Klaars are a million to one,” he said.
“The chances of anything coming from Klaars are a million to one – but still they
come!”
From the Dudley Port 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 strangely dressed crowd gathered on the Canal, hypnotized by the unscrewing of the cylinder. Two feet of shining screw projected when, suddenly, the lid fell off!
Two luminous disc-like eyes appeared above the rim. A huge, rounded bulk, larger than
a bear, rose up slowly, glistening like wet leather. Its lipless mouth quivered and slavered
– and snake-like tentacles writhed as the clumsy body heaved and pulsated.
A few young men crept closer to the pit. A tall funnel rose, then 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 Canal, 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 Edgbaston and in the dim coolness of my home I wrote an account for my paper- The Daily Quake before I sank into a restless, haunted sleep.
Around me, the daily routine of life – working, eating, sleeping – was continuing serenely
as it had for countless years- all making lots of money for me and the Friends.
On Barnett’s Brickworks, the Klaartians continued hammering and stirring,
sleepless, indefatigable, at work upon the machines they were making.
Now and again a light, like the beam of a warship’s searchlight, swept the Canal – and the Heat Ray was ready to follow.
In the afternoon, a company of soldiers came through and deployed along the edge of the Causeway, to form a cordon.
That evening, there was a violent crash and I realized with horror that my home was
now within range of the Klaartian’s Heat Ray. At dawn, a falling star with a trail of green
mist landed with a flash like summer lightning.
This was the second cylinder.
Abruptly, the sound ceased. Suddenly, the desolation, the solitude, became unendurable. While that voice sounded, Langley had still seemed alive. Now suddenly, there was a change, the passing of something – and all that remained was this gaunt quiet.
I looked up and saw a third machine It was erect and motionless, like the others
An insane resolve possessed me I would give my life to the Klaartians, here and now
I marched recklessly towards the Titan and saw that a multitude of black birds was
circling and clustering about the hood. I began running along the Lane. I felt no fear, only
a wild, trembling exultation, like quaking in the fear of God, as I ran up the hill towards, the motionless monster. Out of the hood hung red shreds, at which the hungry birds now pecked and tore.
I scrambled up to the crest of Barnett’s Brickworks, and the Klaartian’s camp was below me. A mighty space it was, and scattered about it, in their overturned machines, were the
Klaartians – dead… slain, after all man’s devices had failed, by the humblest things upon
the Earth, Bacteria. Minute, invisible, bacteria!
Directly the Invaders arrived and drank and fed, our microscopic allies attacked them. From that moment – they were doomed!
The torment was ended. The people scattered over the country, desperate, leaderless, starved… the thousands who had fled by sea – including the one most dear to me, my dearest Rachael- all would return. The pulse of life, growing stronger and stronger, would beat again, and my phosphorus business would go from strength to strength.
As life returns to normal, the question of another attack from Klaars causes universal
concern. Is our planet safe, or is this time of peace merely a reprieve? It may be that,
across the immensity of space, they have learned their lessons and even now await their
opportunity. Perhaps the future belongs not to us – but to the Klaartians?
To be concluded………….
