482
Weird Tales
dank smell of moist earth assailed his nostrils. Involuntarily he slackened his pace.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked again.
The man with the lamp walked on without replying. Hugh raised his voice slightly.
"I will not go another step until I have an answer. For the last time—where am I?"
"At the end of your journey, Doctor Trenchard."
Abruptly the light was extinguished, leaving him in a darkness complete and impenetrable as that of a sealed tomb.
The Terror of the Moor kills again in the thrilling chapters of this story in next month's Weird Tales. Do not fail to read it.
Children of the Moon
(The Moths)
By A. Leslie
Flitter, flutter, through the dark!
Like an ever-glowing spark:
On my wings the moonlight rides,
Ghostly starlight bands my sides.
Flitter, flutter, through the flame;
Flutter—'twas a sorry game!
Like an ever-glowing spark:
On my wings the moonlight rides,
Ghostly starlight bands my sides.
Flitter, flutter, through the flame;
Flutter—'twas a sorry game!
Singed and crumpled now I lie,
And you think to watch me die!
I have left you as I gaze;
Ghostly wings your lips just graze.
Flitter, flutter, through the dark!
Careful, I will leave my mark
In your heart and on your soul
(I am kin to elf and troll);
You will see strange shapes flit by.
Ghastly riders of the sky;
You will wander 'neath the moon,
Harkening to a soundless croon.
And you think to watch me die!
I have left you as I gaze;
Ghostly wings your lips just graze.
Flitter, flutter, through the dark!
Careful, I will leave my mark
In your heart and on your soul
(I am kin to elf and troll);
You will see strange shapes flit by.
Ghastly riders of the sky;
You will wander 'neath the moon,
Harkening to a soundless croon.
Mock me not as here I lie
(While you are you and I am I);
For, lean close, I'll whisper true,
I was once a man, like you!
(While you are you and I am I);
For, lean close, I'll whisper true,
I was once a man, like you!
