The Sanguine Oddity
I have obviously not used a livejournal-cut. If one of my three viewers would like one, shem should kindly post the code. Because I can't be bothered to look it up. Also, for all my three friends, there is a hidden entry under this one. For your enjoyment...
Upon receiving a curious letter from a childhood friend, Lyttleton Barry, imploring me to visit him in Baltimore, I immediately arranged my affairs and made ready to depart, for the language in the letter was most strange and urgent, and Mr. Barry was not prone to exaggeration. At least, that it is what I told myself-my willingness to cut short my business affairs could have nothing to do with Barry’s unattached and comely sister. I remember remarking on her beauty even in our school days, where she was noted both for her intellect and compassion. Although, as my good friend, Auguste Dupin, was visiting me at the time, I was loathe to leave him. However, he expressed a desire to come with me, and I happily complied. After a long, and I must say singular and strenuous journey, involving the loss of two suitcases due to cats falling out of the sky, a mynah bird, and extraordinarily dusty roads (due to a prolonged drought, I’m told), we arrived at Lyttleton Barry’s house full of curiosity, late in the afternoon. The wretched grounds of the mansion seemed to have suffered most severely from the drought-there was little left but dust-and the prevalence of the dust was only exacerbated by repair work being done on the crumbling façade of the house. We were immediately ushered in to the perplexed presence of Mr. and Miss Barry, where he greeted us thus: “I can’t say I’m not pleased to see you-” whereupon he was interrupted by Miss Barry’s exuberant and unexpected greeting, after which she begged to speak with Dupin and me alone. Barry, in a gentlemanly manner, bowed out of the room, no less perplexed than before, and I must admit, I was at least as discombobulated as he. Dupin bowed gracefully to Miss Barry, and berating myself for my societal transgression, I introduced them. The social niceties taken care of, Dupin forthrightly said “Mademoiselle, may I inquire as to why you have brought my friend here in such haste?” This remark greatly flustered Miss Barry, but at length she deigned to inform us as to why we had come so far. She spoke to us of mysterious circumstances in which domestic animals had died-strangled, it seemed, by a peculiar sanguine substance, which she gave the appellation “red dust”, and how she feared it was now exerting a malign influence over the household. She had once mentioned her fears to her brother, but he told her it was a foolish fancy, and nothing to concern herself with. It was not until she found evidence of the insidious nature of this singular dust-like substance that she wrote to me. It seems she believed I could convince her brother of the danger of this dust, and move him to action. Dupin appeared greatly excited by this news, and when I inquired as to why-for this seemed to be a strange fancy from an overexcited, rather nervous mind-he informed me that this had the makings of a mystery all but insoluble, and therefore something intrinsically appealing to his intellect. Remembering the amazing deductive abilities he displayed in Paris, I had no doubt he would discover what, if anything, this red dust had to do with the mysterious animal deaths, and the pregnant air of dread, which, according to Miss Barry, accompanied it. “Pour commencer, then-I would like to see a sample of this mysterious dust.” Miss Barry gratefully complied, soon returning with a handful of the stuff, and Mr. Barry. He looked quite petulant-an unseemly expression on a man of his station-and I did not need Dupin’s acumen to discover that he had been listening at the door. He immediately expressed his most profuse apologies for my having been called away on so trivial a matter. I demurred, saying that the matter greatly interested my friend, Monsieur Dupin, then, realizing I had not introduced them, did so. He nodded in response, fully absorbed in studying this red dust. He rubbed it betwixt his fingers, delicately sniffed it, tasted it, then smiled. “Mon Dieu! I am thoroughly perplexed!” He turned to Barry and requested a magnet or two, and some electrical components. Barry quickly accommodated him, returning with a writhing mass of wires, and one rather large magnet, for Barry was interested in the physical sciences, and happened to have the material on hand. Dupin thanked him, and immediately re-applied himself to his work, an occasional puff on his meerschaum being the only disturbance. First, he placed the magnet adjacent to the dust; the surrounding particles gathered into a cloud around it, and exhibited a peculiar pulsing pattern, alternately being attracted, then repulsed, by the magnet’s separate poles. Next, he constructed a labyrinthine assembly of wires and coils, utilizing the magnet in the midst of one of the coils. He directed me to turn a crank attached to the magnet; I then recognized the apparatus as a make-shift generator. Dupin studied the patterns made by the again-pulsing dust; I must confess, this sanguine oddity frightened me more than a little-it moved as if it were living. Upon expressing this to Dupin, he replied that I was not far from the truth. I was puzzled by this, but continued to turn the crank, as Dupin was beginning his third, and final, experiment. After modifying the apparatus only slightly-removing a wire here, adding one there, he proceeded to apply electric current directly to a small pile of the red dust. To my amazement, the particles so treated exploded in a miniscule conflagration, accompanied by a faint smell not unlike burning flesh. Dupin nodded to himself, and motioned me to stop. Mr. Barry by this point was engaged in a most apologetic discussion with his vindicated sister. In tones of disappointment, Monsieur Dupin announced “I believe I have solved the mystery of the nature of the red dust. However, to ensure that my hypothesis is not mistaken, I would like to be taken to the room where the dust is most evident.” Miss Barry, eager to hear his conclusion, informed him that the most affected room would be the garret, and agreed to accompany us there. She led us to the apex of the house, a garret tower-the long, twisted climb was phantasmagorically lit with the dying afternoon light, and no less dreamlike from the grotesque crunching of mouse corpses. The frequency of the strangled mice-and every so often, an unfortunate puss-multiplied with our receding distance to the room, along with the frequency of the dust. It was now thick in the air, coating all bodily orifices, but none of our skin or clothing. The singularly weird, dreamlike scene of the four of us marching single-file over the tiny corpses sent shivers down my spine. Barry, panting, remarked as we neared our destination, that he was nearly at a loss of breath, and were we not there yet? Upon arriving at the top, Dupin threw open the door-Miss Barry having left us behind a little while ago, the plentitude of corpses distressing her-and the scene which greeted our eyes left Mr. Barry and me speechless. Towers of red dust rose to the ceiling-which was of no inconsiderable height-red dust, in fact, floated everywhere, gyrating in a discordant pattern, which had no apparent cause-no draft could account for this living movement. However, the singularly most astonishing sight was watching a torrent of red dust fall out of empty air. Dupin hurriedly closed the door saying, “Je suis décevoirment-I have, indeed, solved the mystery.” I was amazed, but not as baffled as Barry, for I had previously seen the astonishing workings of Dupin’s mind. We retired to the sitting room, where Miss Barry had thoughtfully provided brief refreshments-for the hour was now quite late-and begged Auguste Dupin to enlighten us as to, first, what the dust was, and second, how he had discovered it. His gaze swung gravely around the room. “Nous sommes marqué pour le morte” he said. “This red dust is not dust at all, but a sinister invading force, from another plane of existence. Miss Barry’s acute observation of the danger of this dust was more accurate than she realized. I noticed at once the strange prevalence of dust in this part of the country-particularly of this odd sanguine hue-and I suspected immediately that it was no ordinary dust-not even dust at all.” Here he paused, and puffed on his meerschaum, as we registered the absurdity of an invading force of dust particles. “I found that the dust is very slick-it feels much like water, or fine Chin silk, when rubbed together. It also has a peculiar metallic smell and taste, which prompted me to apply a magnet to it. The reaction of the dust to the magnetic and electric field immediately eliminated the possibility of it being any natural occurrence. The violent reaction of the dust to an electric current suggested that the interior of the dust was occupied by a well known, highly combustible gas, which is quite common on earth-Oxygen. Each particle of the dust is a self contained, miniature world. I therefore concluded that the atoms of this alternate plane are considerably smaller, as any organism in a space as small as that of a dust particle could not possibly be sentient, unless the dust was made of atoms much smaller than our own, and the smell of burning flesh accompanying the conflagration of the dust particle also implied that the occupants were of an atomic variety similar to ourselves. Now, if you will remember, there was no red dust present on the corpses of the mice-but the red dust is obviously what killed them. In fact, upon closer inspection of the mice, you would see that their desiccated bodies were sucked dry of anything that could possibly supply energy, for this strange dust came to our world with the intention of dominating it, by draining every possible energy source. For you see, as everything in their plane is smaller, so is the energy available-and they do not have enough to sustain themselves.” Mr. Barry and myself, almost convinced, sat in heavy silence. “What do you propose we do?” I said at last. “My friends,” he replied “I have been contemplating that problem since I discovered the origin of the dust-and there is only one in my cognizance-to set fire to the house, or at least the garret room, for I conclude by the exponential increase of the presence of the dust related to the distance of the garret room that it is the only entrance” Mr. Barry stood up, his countenance disheveled, his eyes wild: “Burn it, then!” he cried. He rushed out the door, and I stood to follow, when I was halted by a chilling moan of despair. “The first victim is claimed!” he cried. Dupin and I rushed out of the room, where we gazed upon the once-beautiful countenance of the strangled and shriveled Miss Barry.
Upon receiving a curious letter from a childhood friend, Lyttleton Barry, imploring me to visit him in Baltimore, I immediately arranged my affairs and made ready to depart, for the language in the letter was most strange and urgent, and Mr. Barry was not prone to exaggeration. At least, that it is what I told myself-my willingness to cut short my business affairs could have nothing to do with Barry’s unattached and comely sister. I remember remarking on her beauty even in our school days, where she was noted both for her intellect and compassion. Although, as my good friend, Auguste Dupin, was visiting me at the time, I was loathe to leave him. However, he expressed a desire to come with me, and I happily complied. After a long, and I must say singular and strenuous journey, involving the loss of two suitcases due to cats falling out of the sky, a mynah bird, and extraordinarily dusty roads (due to a prolonged drought, I’m told), we arrived at Lyttleton Barry’s house full of curiosity, late in the afternoon. The wretched grounds of the mansion seemed to have suffered most severely from the drought-there was little left but dust-and the prevalence of the dust was only exacerbated by repair work being done on the crumbling façade of the house. We were immediately ushered in to the perplexed presence of Mr. and Miss Barry, where he greeted us thus: “I can’t say I’m not pleased to see you-” whereupon he was interrupted by Miss Barry’s exuberant and unexpected greeting, after which she begged to speak with Dupin and me alone. Barry, in a gentlemanly manner, bowed out of the room, no less perplexed than before, and I must admit, I was at least as discombobulated as he. Dupin bowed gracefully to Miss Barry, and berating myself for my societal transgression, I introduced them. The social niceties taken care of, Dupin forthrightly said “Mademoiselle, may I inquire as to why you have brought my friend here in such haste?” This remark greatly flustered Miss Barry, but at length she deigned to inform us as to why we had come so far. She spoke to us of mysterious circumstances in which domestic animals had died-strangled, it seemed, by a peculiar sanguine substance, which she gave the appellation “red dust”, and how she feared it was now exerting a malign influence over the household. She had once mentioned her fears to her brother, but he told her it was a foolish fancy, and nothing to concern herself with. It was not until she found evidence of the insidious nature of this singular dust-like substance that she wrote to me. It seems she believed I could convince her brother of the danger of this dust, and move him to action. Dupin appeared greatly excited by this news, and when I inquired as to why-for this seemed to be a strange fancy from an overexcited, rather nervous mind-he informed me that this had the makings of a mystery all but insoluble, and therefore something intrinsically appealing to his intellect. Remembering the amazing deductive abilities he displayed in Paris, I had no doubt he would discover what, if anything, this red dust had to do with the mysterious animal deaths, and the pregnant air of dread, which, according to Miss Barry, accompanied it. “Pour commencer, then-I would like to see a sample of this mysterious dust.” Miss Barry gratefully complied, soon returning with a handful of the stuff, and Mr. Barry. He looked quite petulant-an unseemly expression on a man of his station-and I did not need Dupin’s acumen to discover that he had been listening at the door. He immediately expressed his most profuse apologies for my having been called away on so trivial a matter. I demurred, saying that the matter greatly interested my friend, Monsieur Dupin, then, realizing I had not introduced them, did so. He nodded in response, fully absorbed in studying this red dust. He rubbed it betwixt his fingers, delicately sniffed it, tasted it, then smiled. “Mon Dieu! I am thoroughly perplexed!” He turned to Barry and requested a magnet or two, and some electrical components. Barry quickly accommodated him, returning with a writhing mass of wires, and one rather large magnet, for Barry was interested in the physical sciences, and happened to have the material on hand. Dupin thanked him, and immediately re-applied himself to his work, an occasional puff on his meerschaum being the only disturbance. First, he placed the magnet adjacent to the dust; the surrounding particles gathered into a cloud around it, and exhibited a peculiar pulsing pattern, alternately being attracted, then repulsed, by the magnet’s separate poles. Next, he constructed a labyrinthine assembly of wires and coils, utilizing the magnet in the midst of one of the coils. He directed me to turn a crank attached to the magnet; I then recognized the apparatus as a make-shift generator. Dupin studied the patterns made by the again-pulsing dust; I must confess, this sanguine oddity frightened me more than a little-it moved as if it were living. Upon expressing this to Dupin, he replied that I was not far from the truth. I was puzzled by this, but continued to turn the crank, as Dupin was beginning his third, and final, experiment. After modifying the apparatus only slightly-removing a wire here, adding one there, he proceeded to apply electric current directly to a small pile of the red dust. To my amazement, the particles so treated exploded in a miniscule conflagration, accompanied by a faint smell not unlike burning flesh. Dupin nodded to himself, and motioned me to stop. Mr. Barry by this point was engaged in a most apologetic discussion with his vindicated sister. In tones of disappointment, Monsieur Dupin announced “I believe I have solved the mystery of the nature of the red dust. However, to ensure that my hypothesis is not mistaken, I would like to be taken to the room where the dust is most evident.” Miss Barry, eager to hear his conclusion, informed him that the most affected room would be the garret, and agreed to accompany us there. She led us to the apex of the house, a garret tower-the long, twisted climb was phantasmagorically lit with the dying afternoon light, and no less dreamlike from the grotesque crunching of mouse corpses. The frequency of the strangled mice-and every so often, an unfortunate puss-multiplied with our receding distance to the room, along with the frequency of the dust. It was now thick in the air, coating all bodily orifices, but none of our skin or clothing. The singularly weird, dreamlike scene of the four of us marching single-file over the tiny corpses sent shivers down my spine. Barry, panting, remarked as we neared our destination, that he was nearly at a loss of breath, and were we not there yet? Upon arriving at the top, Dupin threw open the door-Miss Barry having left us behind a little while ago, the plentitude of corpses distressing her-and the scene which greeted our eyes left Mr. Barry and me speechless. Towers of red dust rose to the ceiling-which was of no inconsiderable height-red dust, in fact, floated everywhere, gyrating in a discordant pattern, which had no apparent cause-no draft could account for this living movement. However, the singularly most astonishing sight was watching a torrent of red dust fall out of empty air. Dupin hurriedly closed the door saying, “Je suis décevoirment-I have, indeed, solved the mystery.” I was amazed, but not as baffled as Barry, for I had previously seen the astonishing workings of Dupin’s mind. We retired to the sitting room, where Miss Barry had thoughtfully provided brief refreshments-for the hour was now quite late-and begged Auguste Dupin to enlighten us as to, first, what the dust was, and second, how he had discovered it. His gaze swung gravely around the room. “Nous sommes marqué pour le morte” he said. “This red dust is not dust at all, but a sinister invading force, from another plane of existence. Miss Barry’s acute observation of the danger of this dust was more accurate than she realized. I noticed at once the strange prevalence of dust in this part of the country-particularly of this odd sanguine hue-and I suspected immediately that it was no ordinary dust-not even dust at all.” Here he paused, and puffed on his meerschaum, as we registered the absurdity of an invading force of dust particles. “I found that the dust is very slick-it feels much like water, or fine Chin silk, when rubbed together. It also has a peculiar metallic smell and taste, which prompted me to apply a magnet to it. The reaction of the dust to the magnetic and electric field immediately eliminated the possibility of it being any natural occurrence. The violent reaction of the dust to an electric current suggested that the interior of the dust was occupied by a well known, highly combustible gas, which is quite common on earth-Oxygen. Each particle of the dust is a self contained, miniature world. I therefore concluded that the atoms of this alternate plane are considerably smaller, as any organism in a space as small as that of a dust particle could not possibly be sentient, unless the dust was made of atoms much smaller than our own, and the smell of burning flesh accompanying the conflagration of the dust particle also implied that the occupants were of an atomic variety similar to ourselves. Now, if you will remember, there was no red dust present on the corpses of the mice-but the red dust is obviously what killed them. In fact, upon closer inspection of the mice, you would see that their desiccated bodies were sucked dry of anything that could possibly supply energy, for this strange dust came to our world with the intention of dominating it, by draining every possible energy source. For you see, as everything in their plane is smaller, so is the energy available-and they do not have enough to sustain themselves.” Mr. Barry and myself, almost convinced, sat in heavy silence. “What do you propose we do?” I said at last. “My friends,” he replied “I have been contemplating that problem since I discovered the origin of the dust-and there is only one in my cognizance-to set fire to the house, or at least the garret room, for I conclude by the exponential increase of the presence of the dust related to the distance of the garret room that it is the only entrance” Mr. Barry stood up, his countenance disheveled, his eyes wild: “Burn it, then!” he cried. He rushed out the door, and I stood to follow, when I was halted by a chilling moan of despair. “The first victim is claimed!” he cried. Dupin and I rushed out of the room, where we gazed upon the once-beautiful countenance of the strangled and shriveled Miss Barry.