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Futuria Fantasia, v. 1, issue 4, Spring 1940
Page 7
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a rubber truncheon in it. "Hail to our Leader!" he shouted, and brought his arm down smartly. The truncheon crashed into the sick man's cheek bone. Another trooper came in to see what the noise was while the first was still laughing at his witicism. "What's up, Jon? Say, you'd better not handle that monkey too rough--he's still carried on the hospital list." He glanced casually at the bloody face. "Him? Didn't you know?" Jon pulled him to one side and whispered. The second man's eyes widened; he grinned. "So? They don't want him to get well, eh? Well, I could use a little exercise this morning--" "Let's get Fats," the other suggested. "He's always so very amusing with his ideas." "God idea." He stepped to the door and bellowed, "Hey, Fats!" They didn't really start in on him until Fats was there to help. THE END the phantoms by - Joseph E. Killeam All day they played among the purple flowers That lay like frozen flames upon the lawn; Or dreamed within the shadows of the towers Whose turret tops were painted as the dawn. Bright was the garden; peace went everywhere There was no breath of movement nor any sound Save butterflies that clove the heavy air, Or when the bright fruit dropped slowly to the ground. Then the flowers drooped, from silver thorns that tore; Too soon the sun had died in amber smoke, And frightened now but silent as before The phantoms watched the garden change its cloak. Great sable moths flew out, and one by one The towers melted with the fallen sun. This is a plug for The Voice of the IMAGI-NATION, price 10c from Box 6475 Met Sta Los Angeles Cal *The Art (Widner + otherwise) is a lot better
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a rubber truncheon in it. "Hail to our Leader!" he shouted, and brought his arm down smartly. The truncheon crashed into the sick man's cheek bone. Another trooper came in to see what the noise was while the first was still laughing at his witicism. "What's up, Jon? Say, you'd better not handle that monkey too rough--he's still carried on the hospital list." He glanced casually at the bloody face. "Him? Didn't you know?" Jon pulled him to one side and whispered. The second man's eyes widened; he grinned. "So? They don't want him to get well, eh? Well, I could use a little exercise this morning--" "Let's get Fats," the other suggested. "He's always so very amusing with his ideas." "God idea." He stepped to the door and bellowed, "Hey, Fats!" They didn't really start in on him until Fats was there to help. THE END the phantoms by - Joseph E. Killeam All day they played among the purple flowers That lay like frozen flames upon the lawn; Or dreamed within the shadows of the towers Whose turret tops were painted as the dawn. Bright was the garden; peace went everywhere There was no breath of movement nor any sound Save butterflies that clove the heavy air, Or when the bright fruit dropped slowly to the ground. Then the flowers drooped, from silver thorns that tore; Too soon the sun had died in amber smoke, And frightened now but silent as before The phantoms watched the garden change its cloak. Great sable moths flew out, and one by one The towers melted with the fallen sun. This is a plug for The Voice of the IMAGI-NATION, price 10c from Box 6475 Met Sta Los Angeles Cal *The Art (Widner + otherwise) is a lot better
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