The ground underneath was splitting and the tablecloth, as they watched,
slowly folded and disappeared into the crack, and they were left staring at a jagged
back crack in the ground. The crack grew, it widened, it lengthened, it ran between
them. The mother and the girl were on one side and the father and the boy were on the
other side. The little stove toppled into the growing crack with a clatter and the kettle
disappeared.
They could not believe their eyes. They stared at the widening crack. Then, as
they watched, an enormous iron hand came up through the crack, groping around in
the air, feeling over the grass on either side of the crack. It nearly touched the little
boy, and he rolled over backwards. The mother screamed. “Run to the car,” – shouted
the father. They all ran. They jumped into the car. They drove. They did not look
back.