Memory

Memory
by H.P. Lovecraft

In the valley of Nis the accursed waning moon shines thinly, tearing a path
for its light with feeble horns through the lethal foliage of a great upas-tree.
And within the depths of the valley, where the light reaches not, move forms not
meant to be beheld. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and
creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about
broken columns and strange monoliths, and heaving up marble pavements laid by
forgotten hands. And in trees that grow gigantic in crumbling courtyards leap
little apes, while in and out of deep treasure-vaults writhe poison serpents and
scaly things without a name. Vast are the stones which sleep beneath coverlets
of dank moss, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. For all time did
their builders erect them, and in sooth they yet serve nobly, for beneath them
the grey toad makes his habitation.
At the very bottom of the valley lies the river Than, whose waters are slimy
and filled with weeds. From hidden springs it rises, and to subterranean
grottoes it flows, so that the Daemon of the Valley knows not why its waters are
red, nor whither they are bound.
The Genie that haunts the moonbeams spake to the Daemon of the Valley,
saying, "I am old, and forget much. Tell me the deeds and aspect and name of
them who built these things of Stone." And the Daemon replied, "I am Memory, and
am wise in lore of the past, but I too am old. These beings were like the waters
of the river Than, not to be understood. Their deeds I recall not, for they were
but of the moment. Their aspect I recall dimly, it was like to that of the
little apes in the trees. Their name I recall clearly, for it rhymed with that
of the river. These beings of yesterday were called Man."
>So the Genie flew back to the thin horned moon, and the Daemon looked
intently at a little ape in a tree that grew in a crumbling courtyard.