In the Darkness

“We emerged from the Palace while the sun was still in part above the horizon. I was determined to reach the White Sphinx early the next morning, and ere the dusk I purposed pushing through the woods that had stopped me on the previous journey. My plan was to go as far as possible that night, and then, building a fire, to sleep in the protection of its glare. Accordingly, as we went along I gathered any sticks or dried grass I saw, and presently had my arms full of such litter. Thus loaded, our progress was slower than I had anticipated, and besides Weena was tired. And I, also, began to suffer from sleepiness too; so that it was full night before we reached the wood. Upon the shrubby hill of its edge Weena would have stopped, fearing the darkness before us; but a singular sense of impending calamity, that should indeed have served me as a warning, drove me onward. I had been without sleep for a night and two days, and I was feverish and irritable. I felt sleep coming upon me, and the Morlocks with it.

“We came out of the Palace while the sun was still partly above the horizon. I was determined to reach the White Sphinx early the next morning. Before dusk, I intended to push through the woods that had stopped me on my previous journey. My plan was to go as far as possible that night. Then I would build a fire and sleep in the protection of its bright light. So, as we walked, I gathered any sticks or dry grass I saw. Soon my arms were full. Carrying all this slowed us down more than I had expected, and Weena was tired too. I also began to feel sleepy, so it was completely dark before we reached the woods. On the shrub-covered hill at the edge of the woods, Weena wanted to stop, afraid of the darkness ahead. But a strange sense of approaching disaster drove me onward. That feeling should have been a warning to me. I had gone without sleep for a night and two days, and I was feverish and irritable. I felt sleep coming over me, and the Morlocks with it.”

“While we hesitated, among the black bushes behind us, and dim against their blackness, I saw three crouching figures. There was scrub and long grass all about us, and I did not feel safe from their insidious approach. The forest, I calculated, was rather less than a mile across. If we could get through it to the bare hillside, there, as it seemed to me, was an altogether safer resting-place; I thought that with my matches and my camphor I could contrive to keep my path illuminated through the woods. Yet it was evident that if I was to flourish matches with my hands I should have to abandon my firewood; so, rather reluctantly, I put it down. And then it came into my head that I would amaze our friends behind by lighting it. I was to discover the atrocious folly of this proceeding, but it came to my mind as an ingenious move for covering our retreat.

“While we hesitated, I saw three crouching figures among the black bushes behind us, barely visible against the darkness. Scrub and long grass surrounded us, and I did not feel safe from their stealthy approach. I estimated that the forest was a little less than a mile across. If we could get through to the bare hillside, I thought we would have a much safer place to rest. I thought I could keep my path through the woods lit with my matches and camphor. But clearly, if I was going to wave matches around, I would have to leave my firewood behind. So, rather reluctantly, I put the wood down. Then I had the idea of startling our friends behind us by setting the wood alight. I would discover how terribly foolish this was, but at the time it seemed a clever way to cover our retreat.”

“I don’t know if you have ever thought what a rare thing flame must be in the absence of man and in a temperate climate. The sun’s heat is rarely strong enough to burn, even when it is focused by dewdrops, as is sometimes the case in more tropical districts. Lightning may blast and blacken, but it rarely gives rise to widespread fire. Decaying vegetation may occasionally smoulder with the heat of its fermentation, but this rarely results in flame. In this decadence, too, the art of fire-making had been forgotten on the earth. The red tongues that went licking up my heap of wood were an altogether new and strange thing to Weena.

“I don’t know if you have ever considered how rare flame must be without humans in a temperate climate. The sun’s heat is rarely strong enough to start a fire, even when focused through dewdrops. Such fires sometimes occur in more tropical regions. Lightning may scorch and blacken, but it rarely starts a widespread fire. Rotting plants may sometimes smoulder from the heat produced as they break down, but they rarely burst into flame. In this age of decline, too, the art of making fire had been forgotten on earth. The red tongues of flame licking up my pile of wood were something completely new and strange to Weena.

“She wanted to run to it and play with it. I believe she would have cast herself into it had I not restrained her. But I caught her up, and in spite of her struggles, plunged boldly before me into the wood. For a little way the glare of my fire lit the path. Looking back presently, I could see, through the crowded stems, that from my heap of sticks the blaze had spread to some bushes adjacent, and a curved line of fire was creeping up the grass of the hill. I laughed at that, and turned again to the dark trees before me. It was very black, and Weena clung to me convulsively, but there was still, as my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, sufficient light for me to avoid the stems. Overhead it was simply black, except where a gap of remote blue sky shone down upon us here and there. I lit none of my matches because I had no hand free. Upon my left arm I carried my little one, in my right hand I had my iron bar.

“She wanted to run to the fire and play with it. I believe she would have thrown herself into the flames if I had not held her back. But I picked her up and, despite her struggles, pushed boldly ahead into the woods. For a short distance, the glare of my fire lit the path. Soon I looked back through the closely packed tree trunks. I could see that the blaze had spread from my pile of sticks to some nearby bushes. A curved line of fire was creeping up the grassy hill. I laughed at the spreading fire, then turned back toward the dark trees ahead. It was very dark, and Weena clung to me with violent shudders. But as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, there was still enough light to avoid the tree trunks. Overhead, everything was black except where patches of distant blue sky shone down on us through gaps. I lit none of my matches because neither hand was free. I carried my little one on my left arm, and held my iron bar in my right hand.”

“For some way I heard nothing but the crackling twigs under my feet, the faint rustle of the breeze above, and my own breathing and the throb of the blood-vessels in my ears. Then I seemed to know of a pattering behind me. I pushed on grimly. The pattering grew more distinct, and then I caught the same queer sound and voices I had heard in the Underworld. There were evidently several of the Morlocks, and they were closing in upon me. Indeed, in another minute I felt a tug at my coat, then something at my arm. And Weena shivered violently, and became quite still.

“For a while, I heard only twigs cracking under my feet and the faint rustle of the breeze above. I also heard my own breathing and the pulse of blood in my ears. Then I thought I heard a pattering behind me. I pushed on grimly. The pattering grew clearer. Then I heard the same strange sound and voices I had heard in the Underworld. There were clearly several Morlocks, and they were closing in on me. Within another minute, I felt a tug at my coat, then something at my arm. And Weena shivered violently and became completely still.”

“It was time for a match. But to get one I must put her down. I did so, and, as I fumbled with my pocket, a struggle began in the darkness about my knees, perfectly silent on her part and with the same peculiar cooing sounds from the Morlocks. Soft little hands, too, were creeping over my coat and back, touching even my neck. Then the match scratched and fizzed. I held it flaring, and saw the white backs of the Morlocks in flight amid the trees. I hastily took a lump of camphor from my pocket, and prepared to light it as soon as the match should wane. Then I looked at Weena. She was lying clutching my feet and quite motionless, with her face to the ground. With a sudden fright I stooped to her. She seemed scarcely to breathe. I lit the block of camphor and flung it to the ground, and as it split and flared up and drove back the Morlocks and the shadows, I knelt down and lifted her. The wood behind seemed full of the stir and murmur of a great company!

“It was time to strike a match. But to get one, I had to put her down. I did so, and as I fumbled in my pocket, a struggle began in the darkness around my knees. She made no sound, while the Morlocks made the same strange cooing noises. Soft little hands were also creeping over my coat and back, even touching my neck. Then the match scratched and hissed. I held up the burning match and saw the white backs of the Morlocks fleeing among the trees. I quickly took a lump of camphor from my pocket, ready to light it as soon as the match faded. Then I looked at Weena. She lay completely still, clutching my feet, with her face against the ground. Suddenly frightened, I bent down to her. She seemed barely to breathe. I lit the block of camphor and threw it to the ground. As the camphor split and flared up, driving back the Morlocks and the shadows, I knelt and lifted her. The woods behind me seemed full of the movement and murmuring of a great crowd!”

“She seemed to have fainted. I put her carefully upon my shoulder and rose to push on, and then there came a horrible realisation. In manœuvring with my matches and Weena, I had turned myself about several times, and now I had not the faintest idea in what direction lay my path. For all I knew, I might be facing back towards the Palace of Green Porcelain. I found myself in a cold sweat. I had to think rapidly what to do. I determined to build a fire and encamp where we were. I put Weena, still motionless, down upon a turfy bole, and very hastily, as my first lump of camphor waned, I began collecting sticks and leaves. Here and there out of the darkness round me the Morlocks’ eyes shone like carbuncles.

“She seemed to have fainted. I carefully put her over my shoulder and stood up to go on. Then I realized something horrible. While handling my matches and Weena, I had turned around several times. Now I had no idea which way I needed to go. For all I knew, I might be facing back towards the Palace of Green Porcelain. I broke into a cold sweat. I had to decide quickly what to do. I decided to build a fire and camp where we were. I laid Weena, still motionless, on a grass-covered tree trunk. As my first lump of camphor burned low, I hurried to gather sticks and leaves. Here and there in the darkness around me, the Morlocks’ eyes shone like red gemstones.”

“The camphor flickered and went out. I lit a match, and as I did so, two white forms that had been approaching Weena dashed hastily away. One was so blinded by the light that he came straight for me, and I felt his bones grind under the blow of my fist. He gave a whoop of dismay, staggered a little way, and fell down. I lit another piece of camphor, and went on gathering my bonfire. Presently I noticed how dry was some of the foliage above me, for since my arrival on the Time Machine, a matter of a week, no rain had fallen. So, instead of casting about among the trees for fallen twigs, I began leaping up and dragging down branches. Very soon I had a choking smoky fire of green wood and dry sticks, and could economise my camphor. Then I turned to where Weena lay beside my iron mace. I tried what I could to revive her, but she lay like one dead. I could not even satisfy myself whether or not she breathed.

“The camphor flickered and went out. I lit a match, and as I did, two white figures approaching Weena rushed away. One was so blinded by the light that he came straight at me. I felt his bones grind under the blow of my fist. He cried out in alarm, staggered a short distance, and fell. I lit another piece of camphor and went on gathering wood for my bonfire. Soon I noticed how dry some of the leaves above me were. No rain had fallen since I arrived in the Time Machine, about a week earlier. So, instead of searching among the trees for fallen twigs, I began jumping up and pulling down branches. Very soon I had a fire of green wood and dry sticks that gave off choking smoke. Now I could save my camphor. Then I turned to Weena, who lay beside my iron mace. I did what I could to revive her, but she lay as if dead. I could not even tell whether she was breathing.”

“Now, the smoke of the fire beat over towards me, and it must have made me heavy of a sudden. Moreover, the vapour of camphor was in the air. My fire would not need replenishing for an hour or so. I felt very weary after my exertion, and sat down. The wood, too, was full of a slumbrous murmur that I did not understand. I seemed just to nod and open my eyes. But all was dark, and the Morlocks had their hands upon me. Flinging off their clinging fingers I hastily felt in my pocket for the match-box, and—it had gone! Then they gripped and closed with me again. In a moment I knew what had happened. I had slept, and my fire had gone out, and the bitterness of death came over my soul. The forest seemed full of the smell of burning wood. I was caught by the neck, by the hair, by the arms, and pulled down. It was indescribably horrible in the darkness to feel all these soft creatures heaped upon me. I felt as if I was in a monstrous spider’s web. I was overpowered, and went down. I felt little teeth nipping at my neck. I rolled over, and as I did so my hand came against my iron lever. It gave me strength. I struggled up, shaking the human rats from me, and, holding the bar short, I thrust where I judged their faces might be. I could feel the succulent giving of flesh and bone under my blows, and for a moment I was free.

“Now the smoke from the fire blew toward me, and it must have suddenly made me drowsy. There was also camphor vapor in the air. My fire would not need more wood for an hour or so. I felt exhausted after my efforts and sat down. The forest, too, was full of a sleepy murmur that I did not understand. I seemed only to nod off and open my eyes again. But everything was dark, and the Morlocks had their hands on me. I threw off their clinging fingers and hurriedly felt in my pocket for the matchbox. It was gone! Then they grabbed me and pressed close again. In a moment I knew what had happened. I had fallen asleep, and my fire had gone out. The bitter dread of death filled my soul. The forest seemed full of the smell of burning wood. They grabbed me by the neck, hair, and arms and pulled me down. Feeling all these soft creatures piled on me in the darkness was indescribably horrible. I felt as if I were in a monstrous spider’s web. They overpowered me, and I went down. I felt little teeth nipping at my neck. I rolled over, and as I did, my hand struck my iron lever. The lever gave me strength. I struggled to my feet, shaking the human rats off me. Gripping the bar near its end, I jabbed where I thought their faces might be. I could feel flesh and bone giving way with a wet softness under my blows. For a moment I was free.

“The strange exultation that so often seems to accompany hard fighting came upon me. I knew that both I and Weena were lost, but I determined to make the Morlocks pay for their meat. I stood with my back to a tree, swinging the iron bar before me. The whole wood was full of the stir and cries of them. A minute passed. Their voices seemed to rise to a higher pitch of excitement, and their movements grew faster. Yet none came within reach. I stood glaring at the blackness. Then suddenly came hope. What if the Morlocks were afraid? And close on the heels of that came a strange thing. The darkness seemed to grow luminous. Very dimly I began to see the Morlocks about me—three battered at my feet—and then I recognised, with incredulous surprise, that the others were running, in an incessant stream, as it seemed, from behind me, and away through the wood in front. And their backs seemed no longer white, but reddish. As I stood agape, I saw a little red spark go drifting across a gap of starlight between the branches, and vanish. And at that I understood the smell of burning wood, the slumbrous murmur that was growing now into a gusty roar, the red glow, and the Morlocks’ flight.

“The strange thrill that so often seems to come with fierce fighting swept over me. I knew that both Weena and I were doomed, but I was determined to make the Morlocks pay for their meal. I stood with my back to a tree, swinging the iron bar in front of me. The whole wood was full of their movements and cries. A minute passed. Their voices seemed to grow more excited, and their movements grew faster. Yet none came within reach. I stood glaring into the darkness. Then suddenly I felt hope. What if the Morlocks were afraid? Almost immediately, something strange happened. The darkness seemed to begin to glow. Very faintly, I began to see the Morlocks around me. Three lay battered at my feet. Then, to my astonishment, I realized the others were running from behind me, through the wood ahead. They seemed to form an endless stream. And their backs no longer looked white, but reddish. As I stood with my mouth open, a tiny red spark drifted across a starlit gap between the branches and vanished. And then I understood the smell of burning wood and the sleepy murmur now swelling into a gusty roar. I understood the red glow and why the Morlocks were fleeing.”

“Stepping out from behind my tree and looking back, I saw, through the black pillars of the nearer trees, the flames of the burning forest. It was my first fire coming after me. With that I looked for Weena, but she was gone. The hissing and crackling behind me, the explosive thud as each fresh tree burst into flame, left little time for reflection. My iron bar still gripped, I followed in the Morlocks’ path. It was a close race. Once the flames crept forward so swiftly on my right as I ran that I was outflanked and had to strike off to the left. But at last I emerged upon a small open space, and as I did so, a Morlock came blundering towards me, and past me, and went on straight into the fire!

“I stepped out from behind my tree and looked back. Through the black trunks of the nearby trees, I saw the flames of the burning forest. The first fire I had lit was now coming after me. Then I looked for Weena, but she was gone. The hissing and crackling behind me left little time to think. Each new tree burst into flames with an explosive thud. Still gripping my iron bar, I followed the path the Morlocks had taken. It was a close race. Once, as I ran, the flames spread so quickly on my right that they cut me off. I had to turn sharply to the left. But at last I reached a small clearing. Just as I entered, a Morlock stumbled towards me, then past me, and went straight into the fire!

“And now I was to see the most weird and horrible thing, I think, of all that I beheld in that future age. This whole space was as bright as day with the reflection of the fire. In the centre was a hillock or tumulus, surmounted by a scorched hawthorn. Beyond this was another arm of the burning forest, with yellow tongues already writhing from it, completely encircling the space with a fence of fire. Upon the hillside were some thirty or forty Morlocks, dazzled by the light and heat, and blundering hither and thither against each other in their bewilderment. At first I did not realise their blindness, and struck furiously at them with my bar, in a frenzy of fear, as they approached me, killing one and crippling several more. But when I had watched the gestures of one of them groping under the hawthorn against the red sky, and heard their moans, I was assured of their absolute helplessness and misery in the glare, and I struck no more of them.

“And now I was about to see something stranger and more horrible, I think, than anything else in that future age. The whole space was as bright as day with the reflected light of the fire. In the center stood a small mound with a scorched hawthorn on top. Beyond the mound was another stretch of burning forest, with yellow tongues of flame already twisting out of it. The flames completely surrounded the space like a fence of fire. On the hillside were some thirty or forty Morlocks, dazed by the light and heat. In their confusion, they stumbled back and forth, bumping into one another. At first I did not realize they were blind. In a frenzy of fear, I struck furiously at them with my bar as they approached me. I killed one and crippled several more. But then I watched one of them grope beneath the hawthorn, silhouetted against the red sky, and heard their moans. I became certain that the glare left them utterly helpless and miserable, and I struck no more of them.

“Yet every now and then one would come straight towards me, setting loose a quivering horror that made me quick to elude him. At one time the flames died down somewhat, and I feared the foul creatures would presently be able to see me. I was thinking of beginning the fight by killing some of them before this should happen; but the fire burst out again brightly, and I stayed my hand. I walked about the hill among them and avoided them, looking for some trace of Weena. But Weena was gone.

“Yet every now and then one would come straight toward me, filling me with trembling horror. I would quickly dodge him. At one point the flames died down a little. I feared the foul creatures would soon be able to see me. I was thinking of starting the fight by killing some of them before they could see me. But the fire flared up brightly again, and I held back. I walked around the hill among them, keeping out of their way and looking for some sign of Weena. But Weena was gone.

“At last I sat down on the summit of the hillock, and watched this strange incredible company of blind things groping to and fro, and making uncanny noises to each other, as the glare of the fire beat on them. The coiling uprush of smoke streamed across the sky, and through the rare tatters of that red canopy, remote as though they belonged to another universe, shone the little stars. Two or three Morlocks came blundering into me, and I drove them off with blows of my fists, trembling as I did so.

“At last I sat down on top of the small hill and watched this strange, unbelievable group of blind creatures. They groped back and forth, making eerie noises to each other as the fire’s glare beat down on them. Smoke rose in twisting coils and streamed across the sky. Through the few ragged gaps in that red canopy, the little stars shone. They seemed as distant as though they belonged to another universe. Two or three Morlocks stumbled into me, and I drove them off with my fists, trembling as I struck.”

“For the most part of that night I was persuaded it was a nightmare. I bit myself and screamed in a passionate desire to awake. I beat the ground with my hands, and got up and sat down again, and wandered here and there, and again sat down. Then I would fall to rubbing my eyes and calling upon God to let me awake. Thrice I saw Morlocks put their heads down in a kind of agony and rush into the flames. But, at last, above the subsiding red of the fire, above the streaming masses of black smoke and the whitening and blackening tree stumps, and the diminishing numbers of these dim creatures, came the white light of the day.

“For most of that night, I was convinced I was having a nightmare. I bit myself and screamed, desperate to wake up. I beat the ground with my hands, stood up, and sat down again. I wandered here and there, then sat down once more. Then I would rub my eyes and call on God to let me wake up. Three times I saw Morlocks lower their heads in a kind of agony and rush into the flames. But at last, the white light of day rose above the fading red glow of the fire. It rose above the billowing masses of black smoke and the tree stumps turning white and black. It rose above the dwindling numbers of those dim creatures.”

“I searched again for traces of Weena, but there were none. It was plain that they had left her poor little body in the forest. I cannot describe how it relieved me to think that it had escaped the awful fate to which it seemed destined. As I thought of that, I was almost moved to begin a massacre of the helpless abominations about me, but I contained myself. The hillock, as I have said, was a kind of island in the forest. From its summit I could now make out through a haze of smoke the Palace of Green Porcelain, and from that I could get my bearings for the White Sphinx. And so, leaving the remnant of these damned souls still going hither and thither and moaning, as the day grew clearer, I tied some grass about my feet and limped on across smoking ashes and among black stems that still pulsated internally with fire, towards the hiding-place of the Time Machine. I walked slowly, for I was almost exhausted, as well as lame, and I felt the intensest wretchedness for the horrible death of little Weena. It seemed an overwhelming calamity. Now, in this old familiar room, it is more like the sorrow of a dream than an actual loss. But that morning it left me absolutely lonely again—terribly alone. I began to think of this house of mine, of this fireside, of some of you, and with such thoughts came a longing that was pain.

“I searched again for traces of Weena, but there were none. It was clear that they had left her poor little body in the forest. I cannot describe my relief at thinking her body had escaped the awful fate that seemed to await it. As I thought of that escape, I almost began slaughtering the helpless abominations around me, but I restrained myself. As I have said, the small hill was a kind of island in the forest. From the top, I could now see the Palace of Green Porcelain through a haze of smoke. From there, I could work out the direction of the White Sphinx. And so, as daylight grew stronger, I left the remaining damned souls still wandering back and forth and moaning. I tied some grass around my feet and limped toward the hiding place of the Time Machine. I crossed smoking ashes and passed among blackened tree trunks that still pulsed with fire inside. I walked slowly, for I was almost exhausted and could barely walk. I also felt the deepest misery over little Weena’s horrible death. It seemed an overwhelming disaster. Now, in this familiar old room, my grief feels more like the sorrow of a dream than a real loss. But that morning, her death left me completely alone again, terribly alone. I began to think of this house of mine, of this fireside, of some of you. And those thoughts brought a longing so strong it hurt.”

“But, as I walked over the smoking ashes under the bright morning sky, I made a discovery. In my trouser pocket were still some loose matches. The box must have leaked before it was lost.

“But as I walked over the smoking ashes under the bright morning sky, I discovered something. I still had some loose matches in my pants pocket. The matches must have fallen out of the box before the box was lost.