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The Metal Monster by Abraham Merritt
page 68 of 411 (16%)
I heard the little wailing sounds--then behind
the fleeing men, close behind them, rose the angled pillar;
into place sprang the flexing arms, and again it took its
toll of them.

They scattered, running singly, by twos, in little groups,
for the sides of the valley. They were like rats scampering
in panic over the bottom of a great green bowl. And like a
monstrous cat the shape played with them--yes, PLAYED.

It melted once more--took new form. Where had been
pillar and flailing arms was now a tripod thirty feet high,
its legs alternate globe and cube and upon its apex a wide
and spinning ring of sparkling spheres. Out from the middle
of this ring stretched a tentacle--writhing, undulating like
a serpent of steel, four score yards at least in length.

At its end cube, globe and pyramid had mingled to form
a huge trident. With the three long prongs of this trident
the thing struck, swiftly, with fearful precision--JOYOUSLY
--tining those who fled, forking them, tossing them from
its points high in air.

It was, I think, that last touch of sheer horror, the playfulness
of the Smiting Thing, that sent my dry tongue to
the roof of my terror-parched mouth, and held open with
monstrous fascination eyes that struggled to close.

Ever the armored men fled from it, and ever was it
swifter than they, teetering at their heels on its tripod legs.
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