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The Metal Monster by Abraham Merritt
page 56 of 411 (13%)

A lark had risen from the roof of one of the shattered
heaps and had flown caroling up into the shadowy sky.

A flock of the little willow warblers flung themselves
across the valley, scolding and gossiping; a hare sat upright
in the middle of the ancient roadway.

The valley itself lay serenely under the ambering light,
smiling, peaceful--emptied of horror!

I dropped over the side, walked cautiously down the
road up which but an hour or so before we had struggled
so desperately; paced farther and farther with an increasing
confidence and a growing wonder.

Gone was that soul of loneliness; vanished the whirlpool
of despair that had striven to drag us down to death.

The bowl was nothing but a quiet, smiling lovely little
hollow in the hills. I looked back. Even the ruins had lost
their sinister shape; were time-worn, crumbling piles--nothing
more.

I saw Ruth and Drake run out upon the ledge and
beckon me; made my way back to them, running.

"It's all right," I shouted. "The place is all right."

I stumbled up the side; joined them.
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