Eyelash... a gentle name for that squat, stout gnome of root-like, twisted limbs clothed in earth and mud. Sinewy and knotty were his hands, as an old man's; pigeon-toed his feet, as an infant's; and heavy his steps, as those of a man who knew life well. His face a sculpted iron mask forged, it seemed, plainly on his very face. His eyes were more than closed, transcended by his long, mighty eyelids reaching the very ground, whose lashes swept the floor before him.
Fear not his restless, squirming metal visage. Fear not the clutch of his death-curled fingers. Fear not even his fiendish retinue of abominations and ghasts. When his weighty lids are lifted, when these leaden curtains are cast aside, the two windows revealed show not the secular threat of death, but dread of a far more exquisite nature, as that envisaged through Erich Zann's garret window. His sight finds, reaches, snuffs out the soul: just as the candlelight dies in the pressure of two fingers, so does the flame of existence disintegrate under the lashes of his eyes.
p.s. These paragraphs are inspired in Gogol's short story 'Viy' and Lovecraft's 'The Music of Erich Zann'
Fear not his restless, squirming metal visage. Fear not the clutch of his death-curled fingers. Fear not even his fiendish retinue of abominations and ghasts. When his weighty lids are lifted, when these leaden curtains are cast aside, the two windows revealed show not the secular threat of death, but dread of a far more exquisite nature, as that envisaged through Erich Zann's garret window. His sight finds, reaches, snuffs out the soul: just as the candlelight dies in the pressure of two fingers, so does the flame of existence disintegrate under the lashes of his eyes.
p.s. These paragraphs are inspired in Gogol's short story 'Viy' and Lovecraft's 'The Music of Erich Zann'
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