text_original: The mist seemed to have fingers now, long, dark white, crawling fingers; it seemed, too, to have in its sheer silence a sort of muttered menace, a shuddery lurkingness, as if from out of it that spirit of the unknown, which in hot blood we had just now so gleefully mocked, were creeping up at us, intent on its vengeance.
text_transcription: THE MISTS SEEMED TO HAVE FINGERS NOW LONG DARK WIDE CRAWLING FINGERS IT SEEMED TOO TO HAVE IN ITS SHEER SILENCE A SORT OF MUTTERED MENACE A SHUDDERY LURKINGNESS AS IF FROM OUT OF IT THAT SPIRIT OF THE UNKNOWN WHICH IN HOT BLOOD WE HAD JUST NOW SO GLEEFULLY MOCKED WERE CREEPING UP AT US INTENT ON ITS VENGEANCE
phonemes: ðə mˈɪst sˈiːmd tə hæv fˈɪŋɡɚz nˈaʊ, lˈɔŋ, dˈɑːɹk wˈaɪt, kɹˈɔːlɪŋ fˈɪŋɡɚz; ɪt sˈiːmd, tˈuː, tə hæv ɪn ɪts ʃˈɪɹ sˈaɪləns ɐ sˈɔːɹt ʌv mˈʌɾɚd mˈɛnɪs, ɐ ʃˈʌdɚɹi lˈɜːkɪŋnəs, æz ɪf fɹʌm ˌaʊɾəv ɪt ðæt spˈɪɹɪt ʌvðɪ ʌnnˈoʊn, wˌɪtʃ ɪn hˈɑːt blˈʌd wiː hæd dʒˈʌst nˈaʊ sˌoʊ ɡlˈiːfəli mˈɑːkt, wɜː kɹˈiːpɪŋ ˈʌp æɾ ˌʌs, ɪntˈɛnt ˌɔn ɪts vˈɛndʒəns.