| I left my home in London with little reluctance. My father had died
suddenly, leaving me and his property in the possession of my stepmother and my
guardian. It was in deference to their urgent advice that to study the art of
money-making. On arriving at the scene of my expected triumphs I was assigned to
the somewhat humble position of errand boy. In common with other boys who
performed a like service for the firm I was known as "a pair of legs." Lodgings
of a rather modest character had been secured for me in the western outskirts of
the city near the banks of the Mersey. One night, not long after the beginning of my new life in Liverpool, I was lying in bed listening to the wind and rain beating over the housetops and driving against the windows, when suddenly there came a loud rap at my door. Back then I was slow to make friends, and my evenings were spent in the perusal of some story books, which I had brought with me from London. No one would be knocking at my door at this hour of night. "Who's there?" I demanded, starting up in bed. As I heard no answer, I repeated my inquiry in a louder voice and stood upon my feet for a moment of listening. I could hear nothing, however, but the wind and rain. *** Rats.. Everywhere be Rats. |
The Rats, a classic by H.P. Lovecraft.