ht and left of us the spindle split into scores of fissures. Between these fissures the Metal Things that made up each now dissociate and shapeless mass geysered; block and sphere and tetrahedron spike spun and swirled. There Survetement Barcelone was an instant of formlessness.
Then right and left of us stood scores of giant, grotesque warriors. Their crests were fully fifty feet below our living Maillot Stoke City platform. They stood upon six immense, columnar stilts. These sextuple legs supported a hundred feet above their bases a huge and globular body formed of clusters of the spheres. Out from each of these bodies that were at one and the same time trunks and heads, sprang half a score of colossal arms shaped like flails; like spike-studded girders, Titanic battle maces, Cyclopean sledges.
From legs and trunks and arms the tiny eyes of the Metal Hordes flashed, exulting.
There came from them, from the Thing we rode as well, a chorus of thin and eager wailings and pulsed through all that battle-line, a jubilant throbbing.
Then with a rhythmic, JOCUND stride they leaped upon the city.
Under the mallets of the smiting arms the inner battlements fell as under Orlando Dresy the hammers of a thousand metal Thors. Over their fragments and the armored men who fell Gareth Bale Fotbalové Dres with them strode the Things, grinding stone Maillot Suárez and man together as we passed.
All of the Kobiety Barbour Betty Interactive Liner terraced city except PSV Eindhoven the side hidden by the mount lay open to my gaze. In that brief moment of pause I saw crazed crowds battling in narrow streets, trampling over mounds of the POLO Hengda fallen, surging over barricades of bodies, clawing and tearing at each other in their flight.
There was a wide, stepped street of gleaming white stone that climbed like an immense stairway straight up the slope to that broad plaza at the top where clustered the great temples and palaces — the Acropolis of the city. Into it the streets of the terraces flowed, each pouring out upon it a living torrent, tumultuous with tuliped, sparkling little waves, the gay coverings and the arms and armor of Ruszark’s desperate thousands seeking safety at the shrines of their gods.
Here great carven arches arose; Cruz Azul Dresy there slender, exquisite towers capped with red gold — there was a street of colossal Survetement Arsenal statues, another over which dozens of graceful, fretted bridges threw their spans from feathery billows of flowering trees; there were gardens gay with blossoms in which fountains sparkled, green groves; thousands upon thousands of bright multicolored pennants, banners, fluttered.
A fair, a lovely city was Lazio Dresy Cherkis’s stronghold of Ruszark.
Its beauty filled the eyes; out from it streamed the fragrance of its gardens — the voice of its agony was that of the souls in Dis.
The row of destroying shapes lengthened, each huge warrior of metal drawing far apart from its Itálie Dresy mates. They flexed their manifold arms, shadow boxed — grotesquely, dreadfully.
Down struck the flails, the sledges. Beneath the blows the buildings burst like eggshells, their fragments burying the throngs fighting for escape in the thoroughfares that threaded them. Overlinks:
http://www13.plala.or.jp/gakuki3/cgi_bin/aska/aska.cgi
http://www.rastafarispeaks.com/repatriation/index.cgi
http://tsuruo.jp/cgi-def/admin/C-002/after/visit/main.pl?PAGE_NUM=1 |
