Chapter Three: The Horror! The Horror!

Horror is the 'removal' of masks.

The carnage was unbelievable.

Not sights! These terrors are real! The mother's curse, the hellhounds of hate, they are here!

Horror is the natural reaction to the last 5,000 years of history.

Huge, awful, hideous, ghastly, blind.

As he sat there gloomily chewing, he was a spectacle to shudder at. Not so much on account of his natural hideousness, increased a thousand-fold by the tattered and filthy rags which barely covered him. Not so much on account of his unshaven jaws, his hare-lip, his torn and bleeding feet, his haggard cheeks, and his huge, wasted frame. Not only because, looking at the animal, as he crouched, with one foot curled round the other, and one hairy arm pendant between his knees, he was so horribly unhuman, that one shuddered to think that tender women and fair children must, of necessity, confess to fellowship of kind with such a monster. But also because, in his slavering mouth, his slowly grinding jaws, his restless fingers, and his bloodshot, wandering eyes, there lurked a hint of some terror more awful than the terror of starvation—a memory of a tragedy played out in the gloomy depths of that forest which had vomited him forth again; and the shadow of this unknown horror, clinging to him, repelled and disgusted, as though he bore about with him the reek of the shambles.

Of all the hazards, fear is the worst.

I got the fear!

Welcome, kindred glooms!
Congenial horrors, hail!

Dire agonies, wild terrors swarm,
And Death glares grim in many a form.

Bad as I am thought, I cannot express the horror I feel at this atrocity.

No new horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonplace.

A cry of horror against the inhuman brutality of this act of tyranny.