The Day of the Dragon | Dark Fantasy Story | Podcast - Nightshade Diary

Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Do you feel a shier up your spine from fear. Yes,
it's another story from the Night's Shade Diary. You know
what that means. Check under the bed and make sure
no one or nothing is there, is the closet door
securely shut. Then leave your disbelief behind, amp up your
imagination and hang on tight for another ride into terror

(00:22):
and mystery. And like all good horror stories, just imagine
it's a dark and stormy night. And remember screaming like
a little girl is permitted the day of the Dragon
by Ghi and door. No. In those days, no one

(00:44):
ever thought of such a peril to the existence of
the human race. I was young then, But are we
call the times distinctly? Scientists at er annal meetings used
to discuss the probability of the termination of the triumphant
progress of the human race, but that it should come
about in this fashion, this terrible and at the same
time ridiculous fashion, that no one ever imagined. At the

(01:06):
present writing, it does seem that the complete extinction of
all mankind will be delayed, for there must be quite
a number of small communities that have found refuge in
mines and caves. And though it is long since we
have had any word from them. Yet, in big cities
such as Paris, Berlin and London, where they are impregnable
subway systems, men and women can still hold out against

(01:27):
the terror that ravages the open country. But how long
can we last? Few people, I suppose, are more capable
than I of recapitulating the whole story from its completely
insane inception, of which I believe I was and remain
the only living witness. I have heard lately so many
different versions of how it all began that I want

(01:49):
to say this. They are, for the most part, far
from the truth. But it is of very human necessity
to demand an explanation of some sort well, as I say.
And those day scientists used to imagine many perils to mankind.
Some foresaw vast cataclysms, others predicted more subtle scourges. Very

(02:10):
frequent was the prophecy that insects would succeed to the
rule of the earth. I can still recall clearly a
very stirring lecture delivered by a great entomologist. He began
by pointing out that though new species of insects were
being discovered at the rate of ten thousand a year,
and over half a million kinds were already listed. Yet
by virtue of the processes of evolution, he felt that

(02:32):
the insects were increasing their species at a faster rate
than they were being cataloged, certainly faster than their widely
varying habits were capable of being studied, so that in short,
as far as insects were concerned, science was playing a
losing hand. He pictured vividly the horde of insects that
attacked our food crops in those days, the blights, the scales,

(02:55):
the weavils, the fruitflies, and moths of all kinds. The
listeners shivered as they heard tales of vast clouds of
grasshoppers leaving whole countries bear all things nibbled down to
the last stock. Tales of permanent battle lines of the
entrenched farmer, the gardener, the orchard grower, fighting off with
poisonous gases, the perpetually renewed attack of their inexhaustible insect enemies.

(03:19):
What elector queried might happen in a moment of inattention?
What if, by mischance, some natural enemy of a given
insect were to seat its alliance with man and allow
this insect to breed in such multitudes as to ruin
crops all over the world. Imagine, electurer told us months
of famine, during which whole races would perish and others

(03:42):
lapse into savagery and cannibalism. Was that to be the
end of our proud civilization? Our puny chemicals would soon
be found ineffective against these armored beasts, whose small size
and vast numbers are so much in their favor. But
so this elector firmed peril from such disorganized swarms is

(04:03):
small compared to that offered by those practically civilized insects.
The ants, whose numerous varieties are already so high in
the wrungs of the latter of progress. The ant cultivates plants,
keeps domestic animals as masons and bridge builders, lawmakers and rulers,
soldiers and captains. What if some Napoleon of the ant

(04:23):
world were to rise and were to ally all the
many species of ants into a great confederacy, the object
of which would be the subjugation of the earth. What
if anti scientists were to discover some glandular extract that
would cause them to grow to enormous size. Have not
bees and many other insects already developed something analogous. What

(04:45):
is to prevent them from doing this? Then, waxing big
as rats to move against man's kind in order to
enslave and domesticate it. What a common tragedy man ending
his history in the stalls of vast pyramidal ant hills,
the ants bombs servant his domestic animal. Curious now I
think of it, how man has become to pass that

(05:07):
is nearly not quite as ridiculous. I must say. This
lecture had a pretty clear idea of what would happen,
But how it was to come about that was another matter.
He had his guest, to which he was entitled. The
guesses of others took different directions. I shan't dwell upon
them at length. Now it was the Sun that was
to become exhausted, whereupon our planet would grow cold, the

(05:29):
vasis frozen to the very bottom, and all life refrigerated
to death, imperfect cold storage embalming. Again, it was the
Earth that was to cease to revolve, leaving one half
of itself parched in perpetual high noon sunshine, the other
frozen and eternal midnight. Or else, it was a comet
that was to strike our earth and shatter it into

(05:50):
a million insconsequential planetoids. To such cataclysmic horrors, To such
cataclysmic horrors, others opposed more subtle dangers, did not. The
statistics on insanity showed that its rate of increase was
such that it would not be long before the whole
world was a raving madhouse, and which poor normal beings

(06:10):
as might remain, would have a far from enviable fate.
Would not so, other students asked, the increasing use of
fuel disturb the balance of the atmosphere. Would not the
use of oil by motor ships give rise to a
scum of oil in the seas? In short, were we
not about to blanket the earth and the waters and
shut out the health giving ultra violet rays without which

(06:32):
life is impossible? Ah? But that we should be attacked
and destroyed by a legendary animal. No, that I never
heard from the mouth of any of these scientists. Why
such an animal does not even exist? They would have said, ridiculous,
a fabulous monster. Why that's pure myth? Oh, good enough,

(06:53):
I suppose for fairy tale riders and for artists with
lively fancies. But we serious, Well, it was out of
such legends that it came about. That sounds strange and impossible,
but it is true. Listen, in the old days, in
the golden ara, win mankind walked out carefree into the

(07:15):
great light, with the laughing sun played on the pied fields,
and the good breeze blue. I was then a reporter,
and I will remember the time I was called upon
to do a story on a live toad said to
have been immurred for a billion years in rock. That
was the beginning of it. In some upstate county, this
road hopped out of a kind of natural bubble in

(07:36):
the stone, hopped out just as a stone cutter's chisel
broke through into the airhole, and the workman, flabbergasted, ran
to the editor of the village paper, and there gassed
out his tail. A local amateur geologist claimed that the
rock of this region had been laid down a billion
years or more ago, and that the toad must therefore
be a billion years old or more. But the edge

(07:59):
of the paper called the stone cutter a fool for
not having caught the toad. A group of people, however,
who had gone out to investigate, found a toad not
ten feet away from the cup like depression the stone bubble,
and there was no reason to think that this was
any other but the long lived toad just out from
a billion years of solitary confinement. The story, though Olden

(08:21):
often scorned, got about the toad, was exhibited in the
village drug store, where he contentedly accepted a tribute of
life flies. And a reporter from a nearby town called
to write up the tale and take pictures of the
toad and the quarrymen. So the story came to New
York the Sunday. Red de Goevier ran pictures of the event,
and such was the interest stirred up that I was

(08:42):
asked to collect opinions from the wise acres of the
museum at the local colleges and scientific institutes. Naturally, I
took advantage of this assignment to look up my old
teacher Crabshaw. We used to call him fossil crabs paw.
If he said it rapidly, it sounded so much like
Professor Grabshaw that we dared to say to his face,
And being young and silly, we thought it a very

(09:04):
brave and clever thing to do. I thought it would
be good fun to sealed Crabshaw again. But it did
not prove to be such fun. For the once so
familiar biologic laboratory on the top floor made me melancholy,
and the memory of many drowsy afternoons spent their dissecting
cockroaches and rats afflicted me. The dissecting room was empty,
but there in the rear was old Professor Krabshaw's office.

(09:27):
I could see him sitting at his desk, bent over
pall examination papers. He was more seedy than ever, and
I swear he wore the same acid stained smot even
as his meek face bore the same old, pale and
drooping whiskers. The honors and awards of being a scientist
had passed over Professor Krabshaw and left him practically where
he had started. He was still an instructor, over worked

(09:50):
and poor, and yet he had done some fair work.
He used to tell with considerable pride how his work
on the surface tension of various fluids taken from protozoa
of different types had suggested them the possibility of constructing
a synthetic cell. This suggestion had been taken up by
a later worker and carried his success, reaping fame and
rich material rewards. But not for Crabshaw. I introduced myself

(10:14):
to the professor and reminded him that I had once
been a student in his class. He smiled and bade
me to be seated, that it was pleased that a
great newspaper ask him for his opinion. Was evident, of course,
there's no truth in it, just another popular fallacy, like
horsehair snakes. The toad, no doubt lived nearby. You say
yourself that it differs not at all from the present

(10:35):
species common to that region. That explains the whole story,
which after all, relies almost entirely on the say so
of the quarryman, who was probably frightened out of his
wits when a toad hopped past his chisel. May I
quote you? I asked. It was in his answer to
this that Professor Crabshaw revealed all the meekness of his nature,

(10:56):
all the years in which the better diplomats in his
science had to more important posts, while he, the patient worker,
had remained behind to correct examination papers. I'm afraid I
can't permit that you may say that a professor at
a local college a well, no biologist of note, Well

(11:16):
any sort of paraphrase, he smiled, Please at his own
flattery of himself and content to visualize himself praise even anonymously.
As I left, I imagine him secretly hoping that I
might forget his instructions and publish his name. But we
published nothing, for it was decided to have a feature
article on the subject of the Sunday Magazine section. When

(11:36):
the editor of the Sunday Magazine told me this, I
suggested Professor Grabshaw as a likely person to do the article.
The moment I did so, I regretted it. No one
could have been more unsuited to the task, but I
consoled myself with the thought that he would surely refuse
to write for a cheap paper. But I was mistaken.
He accepted, so I learned, and with great pleasure. Had

(11:59):
he been seduced by the need of the two hundred
dollars which was the magazine's price for the article. I
confess I was rather worried, for I has felt myself
responsible for the whole business, and therefore called him up
on the telephone and began by explaining that it was
I who had recommended him. I thought as much, she replied,
and you must have lunch with me. Can you meet
me at the faculty club at once accepted, thinking that

(12:22):
my business would be settled better. Across the table, Professor
Crabshaw was prompt to the appointment. With him was his wife,
a buxom, frowsy person whose not unkindly face should plainly
effects of years of disappointed hopes. She was voluble in
her thanks to me. It was so kind of me
to have recommended Paul that it was a two hundred

(12:43):
dollars that magnetized her. Was easy to guess. Her conversation
at the luncheon was of nothing but money. Look, she said,
this professor Slocum. Of course you've heard of him economics,
you know, and they say he's made a fortune on
Wall Street. Those economists have secrets. You should see his
new roadster. And that's professor Dillinger. Yes, the man with

(13:05):
the little beard, he's rich. That's his wife there, the
tall one with a permanent he's got political connections. They
say he's the brains for the sugar lobby. Now, Lizzie
crabsho objected, but it's true. Just take a look at
Professor Wilson. Just because he discovered that the mob reacts
like a spoiled baby, he got himself one hundred thousand

(13:26):
dollars a year job with an advertising house. Oh, Paul,
why haven't you ever discovered something brilliant like that? But
of course one can one do with protozoa. I always
say there's no profit to be made out of raising
such tiny bits of things. Well, I did once discover
Crabshop began meekly. Yes, Paul, we knew all about that,

(13:48):
his wife said severely. But Lizzie, I was only going
to explain to mister Paul, how often must I tell
you to call me Elsbeth? You know, she said, turning
to me that I've always been out that if Paul
would only get used to calling me Elsbeth instead of Lizzie,
he'd made at least one thousand dollars more year. I
saw that this conversation was becoming very painful to Crabshaw,

(14:11):
so I began to question him about the article. What
have you planned to say? Well, I've begun with an
examination of the much disputed topic of a conste scientific evidence,
then taking up the story of the toad, I show
that the proper evidence is lacking, and I conclude with
the discussion the life habits of the toad. And the
experiments that have been made on prolonging the hibernation of

(14:33):
various animals, demonstrating that they cannot survive much beyond their
usual period. This was, of course, precisely what I had
been afraid of, a rather dull scientific educational track. That's fine,
I said, but I'm just a little afraid it may
not appeal to the reading public of our paper. Now,
if you're seriously thinking of writing this sort of article,

(14:55):
you'll have to come down a bit meet the public halfway.
Its interests would be more roused by a toad mode
that has actually lived a billion years. Give the toade
a chance to do his stuff. But toads don't live
a billion years. Crabshaw explain, it's preposterous. That's it, I cried.
That's precisely it. The more preposterous the better. You're a scientist,

(15:17):
and you can give the preposterous that scientific vinear that
will make it acceptable. But objected Crabshaw. His jaw hanging
his wife comes short, of course, you can, Paul, think
of it, two hundred dollars every time you write an article.
Why that's almost a month's salary. Even more than that, missus,
Crabshaw said, if the articles should ever come into demand

(15:40):
and the editors compete for your husband's product, Professor Krabshaw
looked almost woe be gone, but we too had no
pity on him. I saw that in gaining an ally
Missus Crabshaw, I had the matter clinched. And indeed the
article turned out to be all that could be expected
of the most experienced Yellow journalists. We ran it under,
hadlines great scientists, champions, billion year old toad, a Professor

(16:04):
Paul Crabshaw, internationally famous biologist, and we had enormous pictures
of Toad, along with a strip of vignettes showing our
artist's concept of history and the Toad, in which above
repeated pictures of the toad immurred in his rock prison,
where depicted prehistoric animals, the glacial period, early ape like man,
first signs of civilization in Egypt, then the Jews captive

(16:26):
in Babylon, then Christ on the Cross, and following that
Columbus and his caravel Napoleon, and then the final picture
typifying the most up to date scene, the President of
the United States surrounded by a draped flag and a
spread eagle. In the article itself, Professor Crabshaw adduced numerous reasons,
all couched in the form of striking antidotes and designed

(16:48):
to prove the possibility of a billion year old toad.
It really made great yellow journalism, but it made mighty
poor signs for a college professor, and the higher powers
were down upon him at once. But that meant nothing
to the editor of the Sunday magazine. A few weeks later,
when passengers came home with a tale of having sighted
a sea serpent, that hoary legend was sent to Professor

(17:11):
Paul Krabshaw for confirmation, and again he made good, no doubt.
Goaded by Lizzie. In a short time, the articles of
Crabshaw had become indispensable and were a regular feature for
which we paid increasing prices. There followed articles on boys
brought up by wolves, living in the forest and running
all fours, and articles on the plagues of Egypt. Then well,

(17:31):
that sort of thing. For several years this continued, during
which Lizzie sure enough blossom into Elsbeth, with facials, permanence
and better clothes to make her look the part. I
used to meet them now and then for lunch at
the faculty club, where Professor Krabshaw at his wife's behead,
still went though he could feel that his colleagues had
lost their respect for him. But I'm preparing my revenge,

(17:53):
he confided to me. One day, I'm going to electrify
the world. You just watch and see. I'm going to
prove that marvelous things can and do happen, and that
will be my vindication for that tripe on which Jonash
swallowed by a wail. And what will man look like
fifty thousand years from now? Tell me more, I begged.
He shook his head and Alisbet said he won't even

(18:15):
show me what he's doing. Now. He's got himself a
laboratory or something off in New Jersey, and he goes
there every day. One morning, Crabshaw called me up and
insisted that I must come to see him at once.
There is something quite marvelous to show me. There's a
note of exaltation in his voice that made me drop
my work and obey him. When I arrived, he wrung
his hands, his thin, nervous fingers, skipping ahead of me

(18:38):
like a French dancing master. He led me into the study. Now,
he said, when I succeeded, my great day is at hand,
and with a smile that freedom relaxed all the long
frozen wrinkles of his face. He proudly declared, I was
fired last night. Seeing my look of astonishment, he continued, No,
not fired precisely, but given an ultimatum in something of

(19:01):
this matter. Then old Crabshaw pulled in his little chin,
tried to look cock and ar agat in punch and said,
here stood prexy just like this. He said, mister Crabshaw,
you see it was no longer professor, but just mister,
mister Crabshaw, I think the moment has come for you
to decide what subject you are most interested in, science

(19:22):
or fiction writing. I answered him back hotly, mister President,
you have no right to set a limit to scientific investigation,
and he answered no, but we do try to keep
our Department of Science and of Belletre's distinct. Then I said,
mister President, if you want to be shown that I

(19:42):
am not romancing, but have made one of the greatest
contributions ever made to biology, I invite you over to
my new Jersey laboratory tomorrow. You will see mythology come
to life. I have invited several of my skeptical colleagues
to come with me, and if you wish to be
fair to me, I shall have the honor of calling
for you at three tomorrow. He refused at first, but

(20:04):
upon my assistance that I deserved a fair trial, he consented.
It is past two now and we must leave soon.
You will go along as a member of the press,
and you will write this up for your paper. So
get out your pencil and make notes of what I'm
going to tell you. This will be the biggest scoop
of your life and will serve to repay you some
for what you did for me. But I began, Let's

(20:26):
not argue now, he said hastily. We haven't the time.
Listened carefully. I was going to make an article of
this myself, but on second thought, I decided that the
first report ought to come from someone else. I would
never be credited by serious readers, for it is more
fantastic than anything I have ever written, and yet every
word of it is true. Let me begin at the beginning. However,

(20:49):
you knew, did you not? That for some time I've
been suffering under the slights of my fellow scientists. I
confess I did write many silly articles, But if science
would not better my Then I had to do something else.
For as long time I've been scheming to rehabilitate myself.
At first, all I could do was hope and pray

(21:10):
that something might happen that would, of itself lift his
reproach from me, some striking event that would, so to speak,
give a little basis for my flights of fancy. Then
I myself began to cudgel my brain to scheme out
something of my own. After several false attempts that I
need not discuss here, I recalled something I had known

(21:31):
for many years, and I wondered if there might not
be a possibility for me in this bit of knowledge.
Perhaps you can still recall my classroom lecture on the
nature of the reptilian heart. Well, in brief, it is
compared to the mammalian heart, the human heart, for example,
an incomplete organ. In a way, it is a malformation,

(21:52):
for is so constructed that the blood vessels of the
animal are never filled with freshly oxygenated blood. The old,
stale blood, replete with body poisons, mixes in the chambers
of the heart with the bright, clean blood from the lungs,
and is pumped back through the body again only half cleansed. Scientifically,
we express that by saying that the septum between the ventricles,

(22:13):
the wall that should be there to keep the two
blood streams separated, is incompletely formed. The animal thus suffers
all its lifetime from autointoxication. It is by nature sluggish.
Suffers is perhaps the wrong word, for its whole organism
is evidently attuned to this subnormal state. The alligator is, then,
to see speak, roughly a lifelong congenital cardiac, incapable of

(22:37):
great activity except in infrequent spasms. His race is an
invalid race, each member born in invalid and remaining an
invalid throughout its existence, and does not the alligator give
us an example of how the cardiac should live. No
physician could prescribe anything finer for his patients than the

(22:57):
alligator's calm, dacile, peaceful, snoozy soor life. Notice the alligators
at the aquarium. They may look fierce, but their condemned invalids,
and no matter how long they live, they will continue
to practice extreme caution, sparing their poor circulatory systems, lying
all day in bed, that is to say, in the

(23:17):
warm mud, and doing very little more than sending out
an occasional blink of the eyelid, well Grabshaw went on
before I could interrupt. It occurred to me one day
to see what would happen if that bad heart condition
of the alligator were cleared up or at least improved
by stretching that incomplete septum to form a dividing wall
between the venus and the arterial blood streams. I immediately

(23:41):
procured a lot of baby alligated and set to work
to find out. My method was simple. I just chloroform
my patient and operate on them, falling as well as
I could the directions given in a text book on surgery.
My mortality rate was enormous, no doubt my surgical techniques
was atrocious, But then I'm no surgeon and don't pretend
to be one. It seemed that the heart condition only

(24:01):
grew worse after the incomplete septum was stretched out. The
poor alligators just turned up their pale and swollen bellies
and gave up their allegorish ghosts. Many of them did
not even bothered to recover from the effects of the chloroform.
I myself was frequently on the point of throwing up
the sponge when patient number eighty seven gave me the
courage to carry on for several hours off to the operation.

(24:23):
That fellow ran about the room like a frisky puppy.
I am sure that no one in the world has
ever witnessed such speed and agility on the part of
an alligator. I tell you, he ran about like a chipmunk,
dived in and out of the water, tanked leave, frolicked,
and dashed about in a reckless, gleeful manner that was
a marvel and a delight to beholt. Then suddenly over
he turned, waggled his Paul's madly like a toy terrain upset,

(24:47):
the wheels of which continued to spin until the spring
has unwound. Number eighty seven revived my courage. I determined
to fight on, and as I say, I gradually grew
more skillful and altered my technique by constant improvement as
I studied the matter. Finally, I determined to try somewhat
larger specimens than those I had hitherto been working on,

(25:09):
and the more thorough and careful operations. Out of ten trials,
I achieved two amazing successes, whereupon I ceased to operate
on further specimens. And studied those two. I noted in
the first place that they devoured from four to eight
times as much food as ordinary alligators of their age.
But then they were never still for a moment, whereas

(25:30):
their ailing brothers slept most of the day. Indeed, my
two alligators grew so fast that I realized that something
had to be done quickly, or they would soon not
grow my little laboratory. At that time I worked in
a store I had rented a former seafood shop in
which the left or equipment provided me with excellent facilities
for the performance of my experiments. I say it behooved

(25:50):
to me now to hasten lest I be caught in
a jam, for at their rate of growth, I realized
that I would soon be unable to move them. Fortunately,
I was able to locate and rent for a reasonable
price a former platinum refinery, New Jersey, a large, single
story brick building a shed rather, which was particularly suited
to my purposes. Since the windows were all heavily barred

(26:11):
with iron. I had some trouble creating and moving my pets.
I had to creep up on the beasts and spray
them with chloroform, and that was dangerous business, for I
very nearly chloroform myself. I should have had help, but
I wanted no inkling of my work to reach the
outside world. And those alligators were quick as birds and
big too, as large, I should say, as young calves.

(26:32):
They had grown to four times their original size in
six days time. And could they fight and squirm? Well, anyway,
that's all over, and I now have my two pretty
ones and their new home, which was at that time
comfortably arranged to house them. Yes, I say pretty ones,
for they were sleek and shiny, and the way they
flirted their tails and skimmed along the floor with their

(26:54):
paws moving so fast you could hardly see them. It
was a pleasure. And their eyes were never closed. I'd
built a big tank for them, and you should have
seen them swim and dive and go leaping out of
the water and come falling back with loud smacking splashes
like dolphins or seals, and taking such joy in life.
I wish I could show you that. But they have

(27:15):
outgrown that tank. Now I must bill them a new one.
I tell you I used to watch them by the
hour and say to myself, you're a public benefactor, you
are here, are the first two healthy alligators in the world.
Why has man been so cruel as to reserve his
medical knowledge so much for himself and his domestic animals,
while life too needs some attention. You see, I hadn't

(27:37):
done an inkling of what I had really succeeded in doing.
But I was right. Nevertheless, in one respect, I'd given
health to two alligators, and I was the first privilege
human being to observe what a healthy alligator was like.
I noticed many peculiarities that set off my healthy too
from the rest of the sickly breed of alligators. They began,

(27:57):
for example, to show a better growth in the chest.
They swelled out something like geckos. You know how geckos look,
those small lizards. And with a better growth of the
chest cavity went a different carriage of the head. The
head rose from the ground from which the ordinary alligator
does not seem to have the strength to raise it,
and was held up a bit, thus contriving to give
the beast the appearance of a neck. That bad posture

(28:20):
that one notices in all alligators, crocodiles, and gavoles and
related species is plainly just another symptom of their congenital
heart trouble. They are all stricken down with severe autointoxication.
It is to be noticed by the way that they
all have bad breath. Alligators have a sweet breath. The
next noteworthy change in outward appearance was the heavier growth

(28:44):
of those spinal processes. In fact, in the common disease Delegator,
there are no spinal process to speak of, though along
the tail are to be found some heavy skin growth
formed a serrated edge and indicating perhaps what nature intended
the beast to have there, and which is actually to
be seen on my two specimens, namely ridges that are

(29:04):
part of the spine and that reached luxurious proportions. The tail, too,
grew larger and longer each day, and there's nothing prettier
to see than the way it curls and rolls in
rich serpentine curves and even in complete circles. You won't
be able to see that now because the quarters have
become so cramped, but you will see how instead of

(29:26):
terminating in a weak point, my healthy alligators have developed
a flat arrowhead on the end, something like the whale's tail,
only sharper. Mind you, those beasts of mine were now
consuming each a good sized sheep and demanding more every day.
And though being around as cows and of course two
or three times as long, they were still but taught,

(29:46):
so to speak, being about a few months old and
still in the process of development. Especially curious was the
ridge that grew along the back, and which between the
shoulder blades and the hips, if I be permitted such
loose anatomical designation, seemed to rise higher each day. And
two have greater internal structural support, for not only did
the spine enter into its formation, but the ribs actually

(30:09):
grew out of the body and provided buttresses for it.
For some weeks my patients appeared as if a heavy
mushroom like parasol were sprouting out of their backs. Now,
whatever can that be? I used to wonder, and continued
to watch. But there were so many interesting things to see.
I must explain that, with my beasts the size of elephants,

(30:29):
I ceased to be able to examine them very closely.
I'll tell you the way I go about it. The
factory is along a rarely used unsurfaced road and a
remote part of the country, and I drive up there
every day, formerly in my old used car, but now
on a truck specially purchased and loaded down with a
couple of sheep or pigs fresh from the slaughterhouse. I
was several tubs of fish before I installed a different pulley.

(30:52):
I had to drag all this up the roof and
dump the whole business through a ventilator on it. I
don't dare enter the place why it was even dangerous
to do that much, For their lashing tails with that
heavy and sharp arrowhead termination used to come whipping around
and crash through the windows, or rather whatever fragments of
glass and iron bars remained in the window and come

(31:13):
out thumping and feeling around the roof. I guess they
were curious to find out what was all the disturbance
up there, or perhaps they knew it was feeding time
and they just wanted to show their appreciation of my solicitude.
I often did think they felt gratitude for me, their
deliverer from the oppression of heart trouble. Oh yes, I

(31:33):
forgot to tell you how they began to show knobs
on their snouts, and how these knobs kept growing out
and formed what I could only describe as feelers or whiskers,
heavy things, flexible and curling like the trunk of an elephant,
only thinner and covered with a leathery antigument, while one
of those feelers came whipping out of the ventilator when
they gave me a caress that tore through all my

(31:54):
clothes and left a deep bloody scar. As I say,
I suppose it was a caress, but I was so
frightened that i'd jerk back. I believe that if it
had been all meant, I wouldn't be here to tell
about it. Yes, I'm pretty nearly positive of the fact
that they liked me. Oh of late, it has grown
more and more difficult to get a good glimpse of them.

(32:16):
It's been getting more and more dangerous to go near
that building. And before I rigged up my rope system,
I used to climb up to the roof by a
ladder placed against the rear of the building where there
aren't any windows, And once on the roof, I'd make
sure that nothing was protruding from the ventilator, and then
i'd rush up and cast down my load and rush
right back with another load. Once they were busy eating,
it was fairly safe now, and then I'd put my

(32:40):
eye to a little opening I found and peer through.
They were my beast, growing larger every day, greater now
than elephants in the bulk of their torso, and with
that parasol like growth on their back, expanding and expanding
and shaping itself out into two vast ovals, one on
each side. Then one day it came over me suddenly

(33:00):
what these were? Wings? Yes, sir, wings. And suddenly too
that day I realized what I possessed there, locked up
in that old factory. And I ran back to my car,
and you'r a breakneck speak to New York and to
the library. Why, of course, what else but dragons? And
the story and pictures of those fabulous beasts proved to

(33:20):
me that my alligators were not the only healthy alligators
that had ever existed. There had been at various times,
but mostly in prehistoric days. Are the rare specimens of
healthy alligators? How else can want to explain the fact
that people had seemed precisely such monsters as I have
out there, and preserved the record of their appearance in
story and art. Why those Chinese dragons you see embroidered

(33:42):
in silk whres like mine as two peas? Undoubtedly there
appears now and then, but extedingly rarely a sport variant
among the alligators or crocodiles, provided by a chance with
a healthy heart and so free from auto intoxication. But
to get back to the progress of my pets. They
continue to develop, and pretty soon I began to see

(34:03):
their wings unfold, with those enormous ribs of their strengthening
them like rib Gothic vaulting. Hunched, they are at their
shoulders and then smoothing down flat to the rear and
wrapping against the lower bodies like enormous shields. You can
see that they are aching now to try out the wings,
but there is no room in the factory. But now
and then they do a little tentative flapping, you know,

(34:24):
like chickens, and then they subside. Sadly, I tell you
breaks my heart to see them so confined, but that
will be remedied. Now they have begun to look awkward
on the ground, trailing their immense wings, their sighs preventing
them from fisking around as they used to do. They
move back and forth like cage beasts, and I can
see that their tempers are getting short and ugly. He paused,

(34:45):
suddenly and looked at his watch. Come, we've no time
to waste. I'm to call for the delegation at a
quarter to three and then be at the President's house
at three sharp, say, I exclaimed, this is also terribly exciting,
that my head is simply whirling. What a story this
is going to make. We'll run a whole page of pictures,
also carried away by crab trees, with its story that
I never for a moment doubted its veracity. Pictures, Crabshaw cried, pictures,

(35:09):
of course, Why did I never think of that? But
I've been so feverishly excited. We must take some. Now, wait,
let me get our camera. I wish I had kept
the photographic record of their developed well, that we'll have
to wait for the next group I operate on. I
suggested calling up for one of our new photographers, but
he read of the idea. For the present, he wanted

(35:29):
no outsider except me. We drove out in a limousine.
Crab shot hide for the occasion. There was a curious,
strained atmosphere among the occupants of the car. At first,
there had been solemn politeness, the stilted courtesy of duellists,
which now and then one of the former colleagues of
Crabshaw would try to break by a weak attempt at humor.
Crab Shot brushed these attempts aside as had the conversation

(35:49):
on the recent spell of hot weather or the latest
political news, and in that fashion of conversation limped along
until we had driven far out into New Jersey and
had gone off the traveled highway and were bumping along
a forest road much in need of repair. The professors
sat with their hats on their knees. The President wiped
a copious sweat from his brow, and Crabshaw, thin and alert,

(36:13):
kept leaning forward to give the driver directions. Suddenly Crabshaw
gave a cry. The car drove out into an open
space and stopped. Suddenly, he forced with his heaped ruins
of what had once been a red brick building of
some size. Disregarding our solicitous inquiries, Crabshaw continued to yell,
they've escaped, they've broken out, They're gone. We could not
get any other intelligent statement from him. He ran out

(36:36):
and scrambled up over the mass of wreckage, the heaps
of bricks, the twisted girders, and continued to let forth
One piercing scream after another. We sat in the car
for a while, overcome by the powerful stench that, along
with the heat of the day, robbed our lungs of
the breath. They craved the President, holding his kerchief to
his nose, a gesture that his professional satellites imitated. At

(36:57):
once made a muffled noise remark, our friend has histrionic
talents too. Woo. If you agree with me, gentlemen, that
we have seen enough, let us be off. I can't
breathe here, nor I, nor I, said the obedient professors.
But I followed Crabshaw up the heap of wreckage and
looked down upon the interior of the building, where vast
mounds of trampled filth lay so thick that it almost

(37:20):
obscured the existence of a flat concrete floor beneath. And
the odor was like that of a monkey house tazoo,
only many times worse the present. Cried out Crabshaw. I
insist upon being driven back to my residence at once,
Otherwise I shall commandeer this car and leave you here.
Crabshaw's eyes popping out of his head, his voice cracked
with sobs. Shy, back, come up here, you fools. There's

(37:41):
evidence left here at any rate, look at those footprints.
To the professors, more curious and bolder than the rest,
mounted to where we stood and looked down upon the
scene below. But that eye is only for the filth,
and not for its meaning or origin. The ougent stables
had nothing on this. One of them began see those,
Prince Crabshaw cried, I insist. Crabshaw bellowed the president, whereupon

(38:03):
one of the professors dutifully declared I've seen enough, and
the other echoed that flat statement. It made no difference
to them, how Crabshaw swore and begged and whined, with
the tears flying from his eyes, his mouth sputtering, here you,
professor Albert wrote, famous palaeontologists, why don't you measure these footprints?
What animal do they come from? Did you ever see

(38:24):
such enormous holes as these claws have? Doug and you,
professor Weiner, why do you stand like dummies? Do you
turn up your noses because the evidence is not a
million years old? Why if this were the rocks of Montana,
you'd be all over the ground sniffing and measuring and
preparing to write huge tomes. What's the matter with you now. Gently,
I led the hysterical man down from his mound of

(38:45):
bricks and pulled him into the car. On the drive home,
he remained silent, except for an occasional attempt to arouse
the others with a sarcastic or pleading remark. To these,
a president answered once, without looking at poor Crenshaw, I've
never been so hoodwink before, so grossly insulted. And the
scientist repeated a plain fraud assaulted mind, said another, And

(39:05):
one mentioned Saesnola in the fake antiquities he pumped off
on the Metropolitan Museum, and another mentioned closel and the
third thought of the louver and the crown of Art
to ferns. And then they reminded themselves of the card
of Giant Short They passed the sarcastic review all the
trickeries ever perpetrated upon science, But all things have an end.

(39:27):
Eventually we unloaded our cargo of scoffers and proceeded on
to Crabshaw's apartment. The life had gone out of the man,
so I could not desert him, but must see him
safely home. As we rode on to his apartment, I
heard newsboys crying extras though the moment was hardly propitious,
I felt that my profession demanded a copy. I stopped

(39:48):
the car and called to one of the boys. No
sooner had I spread out the sheet than I gave
Crabshaw a mighty slap on the shoulder, for I confessed
that my own first emotion was one of exultation. Look man,
read this, I cried. Monsters attack Atlantic City. Four bathing
beauties among missing. Many spectators at baiting beauty contests are
slain and many maimed by flying monsters. As usually, the

(40:09):
actual news report was meager. Fraxtras often have nothing more
than a headline to sell it is published, while the
reporters hustle ought to secure more complete information. The body
of the article repeated in various forms the following story.
Conflicting reports by telephone from Atlantic City tell of enormous
flying monsters, birds or airplanes. Eye witnesses are not in
agreement on this point. Attacking the crowd assembled to watch

(40:32):
the final awards in the nationalwide competition for the nomination
of Miss America, two or more scarlet colored birds of
vast size swoop down on the panic stricken multitude, who
dashed for cover in all directions. One informant declares he
was reminded of the airplane attacks on infantry that were
a feature of the World War. Whatever they were, beast

(40:54):
or machine, they mutilated dozens of bystanders and were gone.
Their appearance and disappearance were so rapid, their speed so enormous,
that no one seems to have retained a clear notion
as to precisely what happened. The monster seemed to have
swoop down out of the clouds and back again, carrying
all some of the victims, and leaving the boardwalk strewn
with the dead and the dying the earliest reports from

(41:17):
the hastily organized volunteer ambulance of Medical Corps. I grew
more and more serious as I read of the victims.
But crabshawly expanded. He slapped his knee. Hah, those healthy
youngsters would an appetite. Think of that, just swoop down
from the clouds. He illustrated the maneuver with a swow
of his hand, snatched up those beauties, then climbed right

(41:37):
back out of human sight. Wow, think of it, man,
And he gave me a jovial dig in the ribs.
I'm thinking of it. All right, I said, soberly, But
he was so delighted that he actually began to caper
around the car. It was droll, but I could not laugh.
I thought of the dead and dying out there on
the boardwalk, and the four young girls who had come
to exhibit their youth and beauty, and who had been

(41:59):
snatched up beyond the clouds and devoured. Stop stop the car,
Grabshaw shouted. We must get dozens of those papers and
clips up those articles and send them to those benighted
professional asses who came out there and refused to use
their five senses. Do nothing of the kind, I cried,
and pulled Grabshaw back to a seat. Listen to me,

(42:20):
you fool. Do you want the whole world on your neck?
Don't you realize what your dragons have done. They've killed
or injured for life scores of people. What will the
world say of Professor Krabshaw when it learns at his
petty desire for vindication in the eyes of his colleagues
has caused wholesale murder. Take my advice and keep quiet

(42:40):
about this and pray that it may blow over. Or
enjoy your bloody triumph if you like, but beware of
proclaiming it, as far as I am concerned, not a
word of your connection with his gruesome business at Atlantic
City will get into the newspapers. That sobered him, but
only for a moment. Then he wagged his head, Tickled

(43:02):
silly by the accomplishment of his pets husky youngsters, he
muttered over and over again to himself and exclaimed at
lock husky youngsters, Gad, what will they do when they
are full grown? Can you imagine? Why? They're only kids now?
They're not a year old yet and just out of
the hospital, so to speak. Why, come to think of it,
this is the first day they flew. Say what do

(43:25):
you suppose they'll do when they are as big as battleships? Bigger? Maybe? Wow?
And he went on ruminating, gleefully flying so perfectly on
their first essay. Where's a human aviator who could equal that?
And say, by gosh, I never thought of that. Do
you recall all the stories of the dragons demanding a
tribute of fair maidens? Well there you see it. First

(43:47):
things they do is go after the beautiful virgins. Ha ha,
Just another proof for you that those old artists and
poets were not just imbeciles. But as good scientific observers
as any of us moderns fairy tales. I tell you,
mister President, those fairy tales are true, and Crabshaw's fancies
are as good as any of your old stodgy facts,

(44:09):
maybe better, because dreams come true while facts are always
being challenged and disproved. He went on. Thus, Well, the
car drove to his home. Just as we reached there,
he let out a scream that nearly stopped my heart beating.
What's the matter now, I gasped. Never thought of it,
he shouted, Never once occurred to me, Oh, this is rich,

(44:30):
just too perfect, male and female created. He them, Yes, sir,
one male and one female. Think of it, man, think
of the race that will come from those beasts. Why
why it? He stood there with an ecstatic smile and
his uplifted face. It was as if he felt to
himself akin to the Creator, and was calling down a
blessing upon the Adam and Eve of the new race

(44:51):
of dragons. It occurred to me later, when I had
heard people talk just like Crabshaw during the ride home. Parents,
hard working parents of the poor classes, who raise up
their children to take the place in the world that
they the parents would have liked to occupy. They speak thus,
And for Crabshaw, his dragons, so strong, so unassailable, were
his sons, who were going to wipe out with their

(45:13):
strength all the disappointments that he had been forced to swallow.
No sooner we alighted and dismissed the car than he declared,
I am not going upstairs. Please do me a favor.
Go up and tell Azbat not to expect me until late.
Say nothing about the dragons, of course, And what are
you going to do? I asked? Displease at his request,
I've got something I must take care of, he said mysteriously,

(45:36):
and in sensing that was about to object, he pleaded quickly,
Oh go please, good lord? Am I to be balked
all my life? I realized vaguely what he wanted to do,
but his last words made me give in to his plea.
And then what good would it have been to have
refused him. He would have put through his plan. Anyhow,
The manner in which he clutched his camera under his arm,

(45:59):
and the light of fanatic determination in his eyes were
indicative of a firm resolve to go back to the
ruined factory in New Jersey, no doubt, driving there in
his own little car, in the hope that the darling alligators,
whom he had nursed a health from their original heart trouble,
would return to Rus therein he would be thus unable
to secure photographs of them. I let him go and
regretted it, But I hold myself blameless, for short of

(46:23):
locking him up behind the iron bars, nothing could have
restrained him. I went up and made some excuse to Elspethan,
then left to catch up on my neglected work of
the unsuccessful dragon expedition. I said nothing to anyone. To
have done so would have been to expose Crabshaw was
rather surprised to find that the professors at the university
suspected nothing of his connection with a disaster at Atlantic City.

(46:45):
But on second thought, this was only natural. Such a
connection must have appeared extremely far fetched, and to have
propounded it would have been to expose oneself to ridicule
if it were proved false, and again to ridicule were
proved true. In any case, the great publicity would have
been Crabshaw's. Such must have been the motives of the
professors in keeping quiet, if indeed they had any thoughts

(47:08):
in the matter at all. Afterwards. True enough, all sorts
of crazy things were propounded by professor and layman alike,
and Crabshaw's name was mentioned. But those who had been
in a position to insure themselves the justice of Grabshaw's
claims and had neglected to do so, had nothing to
gain by speaking up on the contrary. When I called

(47:28):
upon Crabshaw in the afternoon of the following day, Elsbeth answered,
extremely agitated. What do you know about this? She asked,
where's Paul? Why didn't he come home? I asked, my
heart sinking at the thought of Crabshaw Learne with the dragons. No,
he didn't come home, she answered, But that's not what
puzzles me so much as where he has been. I'm

(47:49):
afraid there's some sort of hoax afoot. Since yesterday, I've
had three cablegrams ostensibly from him, all sent collect cablegrams. Yes,
one from London that came last night, the second one
came early this morning and was from Alexandria. And I
just had another just this moment, from Singapore. Malay states, well,

(48:10):
what does he say? He says the same thing and
each one. Don't worry stop, I'm safe stop be home soon.
Well that sounds encouraging, I said, for want of any
better comment. Elsbeth, however, declared, well, I can tell you this.
I don't believe they come from Paul. He can't be
all over the world in one night, and I'm not

(48:32):
going to pay for any more of them. Perhaps you
can tell me what it's all about. What did you
two do yesterday? Why nothing, I said, and blandly made
whatever excuse I could think of quickly, and then hung up. Actually,
of course I had a good notion of what had happened.
It was plain that he was riding through the clouds
on the back of one or the other this flying
alligators and could stop them, or he pleased flying from

(48:55):
continent to continent and over the oceans. Well, glory b
to u, Paul. Now you are truly vindicated. Now you
have your hypothesis. All the world will bow to you
when you come alighting in the middle of Broadway on
your pet dragon. I thought for a moment of proclaiming
the arrival of Paul Crabshaw from around the world, hop
done in one day, but fortunately I thought better of it.

(49:19):
In view of the recent disaster at Atlantic City, which
the papers were now full, but I could not restrain
my mind from waxing enthusiastic over the fact that it
was plain that Paul had tamed the monsters. What would
not mankind be able to do with these domesticated dragons,
who were so superior to airplanes. Perhaps Paul had struck
the right track, the new road along which mankind was

(49:41):
to progressed by breeding or otherwise developing animals to do
the work of machines. But we waited in vain for
Paul Crabshaw to return. Elsbeth paid for several more cable
grounds from South America, from Africa, and from outlandish places.
Then the cablegram ceased, which both pleased and disappointed the
economical eares Elsbeth. And after that we never heard of

(50:02):
Paul again. As for the rest, it is history. The
brute of the Atlantic city disaster died down, and for
several years we heard nothing more of monsters. Elsbeth bereaved
had gone away to nurse her sorrow, and Paul Crapshaw's
disappearance was soon forgotten. I used to ponder over the
probate fate of the dragons. Evidently their mighty hearts had

(50:22):
given way, and they had fallen into the sea along
with their doctor, but not only retired to remote regions
there to breed thousands of their kind. For soon the
world awoke to the fact that it was positively infested
with dragons. There were first rumors of dragons devowing the
natives of interior Africa. This was presumed to be false,
like so many other jungle stories. And then there were

(50:43):
rumors of dragons in South America and China. These are
dismissed as tropically overheated imaginations and mere Chinese fantasies. And
then there were dragons in Europe, in France, in England,
in the United States, in New York, and no one
could dealt the truth of it anymore. The world was
a pre to man eating dragons. Too late then to

(51:04):
fight the vermin that had obtained such a foothold in
our world alas no longer our world, but the world
of the dragons, who have become supreme. Step by step
we have retreated and given up the globe which we
had brought so near to complete civilization, given it up
to our successors and time. The human history of the
Earth is closing its books. Too late then for me

(51:26):
to tell what I knew, and when I did, I
found no one to believe me. No one could try
my simple explanation and see if alligators could really be
cured of their heart trouble and become dragons. The mere
suggestion was dismissed at once on the grounds that acquired
characteristics were not inherited, whereas these dragons bread true. In short,

(51:46):
the idea was too ridiculous to be discussed seriously. The
explanation that science handed down was that some dragon eggs,
remaining for millions of years and the cold story to
the Arctic, had by chance been caught in the sweep
of the glacier, had been carried down in the slow
glacial movement to the sea, had thence along with an iceberg,
been carried off to sea, and had floated down into

(52:07):
the warmth of the tropics. On some tropical island shore,
the dragon eggs, still by miracle, unbroken and unspoiled, had
slowly been brooded to light by the warmth of the sun.
This theory fit in while with the old tales of
gigantic rock eggs, but generally accepted by science and lady alike.
I did not press my point for what could be
the value, at this late date of knowing how to

(52:30):
transform a comparatively harmless alligator into a dragon. Making more dragons,
even in the name of research, was the silliest ever
of all schemes. To carry coals to Newcastle, while the
world was full of them, not a city, not a village,
that the remotest hamlet must suffer their depredations. The dread
fowl came down like a hawk upon chickens and carried

(52:52):
off men, women, and children, as well as cattle, and
left only its hard droppings as a final insult to
the tragic survivors in Vain and kind preyed. In vain,
ministers sermonized on the beasts of the apocalypse, the beasts
whose number was six sixty six. In Vain. We turned
to anti aircraft guns, to explosive bullets, to poison gases,

(53:13):
to gigantic traps. In Vain, our most courageous aviators mounted
the skies in pursuit of them. A thrash of their tails,
and man in his machine tumbled to the earth, while
as bullets rattled harmlessly off the armorlike height of the beast.
It was useless to fight. We were beaten, and the
wise ones were those who scurried off soonest to the
best caves and mines. Farmers burrowed underground, untilled their fields

(53:35):
in the darkest nights, and then not troubled themselves to
grow any more food than they could use. Famine added
itself to the miseries of mankind. Our supply of coal
gave out, our electric powerhouses ceased to function. Turbines still
ran while others had volunteers to brave the danger of
running them, and every pairing power lines. As long as

(53:56):
our machines still held together, they were used, but repairs
grew more and more impossible to work in the Daylight
was suicidal. At night, light was forbidden, for it immediately
attracted the dragon out of the sky. Evidently, they bread rapidly.
Not twenty years after crabshaws for a specimen, thousands were counted,

(54:16):
and the world of human life perished before their instatiable hunger,
as once the world of animal life had perished before advance.
What we had done to the buffalo and the passenger
pigeons was repaid by us in full measure. Or where
is now of the Saint George, that is to ridus
of our scourge. Where the scientists, with serum or inoculation
they should wipe out these dragons? What will science fail us?

(54:39):
Are we doomed? We the last remnants of the human race,
who now exist in perpetual fear. At first, how many
and how bright were the reports of what we could
do to the dragons, Reports of new types of guns,
of great steel, spring, nets of new and most potent gases,
harmless to man by deadly to the great saurians of
diseased germ that were to be spread among them, and

(55:01):
wipe them out in one vast epidemic of poison bait
Alas all all failed. Until even the most optimistic of
us have lost heart, We cease to hope and made
the best of things, and quietly bless those valiant old
New Yorkers who are constructed that so often ridiculed Megalopolis,
with its impregnable fortress of sky scrapers and its marvelous

(55:22):
network of underground passageways, where we besiech mankind can make
our last stand. Here we are safe for time, that
is to say, until famine gets us. We stave off
that as best we can by utilizing every rooftop and
planting countless window boxes, and developing whatever mushroom and other
fungus grows will thrive in the dark. Here and there

(55:43):
too we grow food under ultra violet light, but current
is almost priceless. How long can we last? Seeing that
our existence is ultimately dependent on the constant excursions of
volunteer corps who are ever risking their lives for the community.
Our numbers grow daily life us A few, we are
told by rare travelers surviving the far North, where dragons

(56:05):
rarely go. A few survive in mines. No doubt there
must be other communities, say in London and Berlin, and
other places where there are extensive subways, But it is
years since we have had any communication with them. What
is to be the end of all this? I ask myself?
Are we to perish utterly? I think I shall cause
this tale to be engraved on stone, so that ever

(56:28):
a human race rises again, it may read and know
how the damnable inferiority complex of one paw Crabshaw made
all mankind the prey of fabulous monsters.

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The Day of the Dragon | Dark Fantasy Story | Podcast

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