Explore "Dwellers in the Mirage" by Abraham Merritt on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I came to myself to find Jim pumping the breath back into me. I was lying on something soft. I moved my legs gingerly, and sat up. I looked around. We were on a bank of moss--in it, rather, for the tops of the moss were a foot or more above my head. It was an exceedingly overgrown moss, I thought, staring at it stupidly. I had never seen moss as big as this. Had I shrunk, or was it really so overgrown? Above me was a hundred feet of almost sheer cliff. Said Jim: "Well, we're here."
"How did we get here?" I asked, dazed. He pointed to the cliff.