DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Atres Artes, v. 1, issue 3, 1946

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Atres Artes, v. 1, issue 3, 1946

Page 12

gathered, he had left his buddies to explore the rougher sections of town, which were strictly off-limits for military personal. Contem-plating this strange dissappearance, I was barely aware that the shadows were lengthening on either side of the narrowing street.

There had been tales of Indian poweress with knives, and the stories had been true. For centuries the Indians have used knives, not only for weapons, but to hack and carve bamboo in such common use in India. It was not too unusual to see a boy totin' a two-edged knife the length of a crusader's sword.

As I turned to gaze in a lighted shop window, I suddenly notic-ed that I was being followed. I stopped in my tracks. The sounds of the busy thuroughfare had diminished into comparitive silence. A cart rumbled over the cobblestones a block behind me. Here was an empty street down to the next block and only a few people there. I glanced hurriedly at the many shadowed doorways and windows on either side, I knew I was being watched by several vagrants and that I was in possible danger. But I felt silly about it -- those tales about travelers vanishing were possibly exaggerated. My thoughts chided me, "It can't happen to you. You fool, turn around and head back for the busy section before---" Suddenly I was attacked from the rear--one assailent grabbed my legs, two others instantaneously roped my arms. "Oh Brother!" I thought, "This is it!" Before I could move to defend myself, my legs and arms were bound together by a strong cord, and I was helpless. Then my attackers decided to let me have alook at them. There were four, about fourteen years old. 

"We shine shoes for you, yes?" inquired the anarchist, grinning evilly as he rubbed manure on my already dirty shoes.

"Yes, go ahead," I feebly grined, greatly relieved that the gangsters were only boys.

After the cleanup of my shoes was completed,, I was untied. Since my assailents were armed with knives, and doubtlessly adept in thier use, I decided not to retaliate, but to try to get out of my predicament as diplomatically as possible. I gave the spokesman some money, thankful that they hadn't robbed me, and started to leave when another group of at least a dozen boys appeared from nowhere and started clamoring about me. It was with great alarm that I saw one of them pick up another piece of the stuff they had rubbed on my

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gathered, he had left his buddies to explore the rougher sections of town, which were strictly off-limits for military personal. Contem-plating this strange dissappearance, I was barely aware that the shadows were lengthening on either side of the narrowing street. There had been tales of Indian poweress with knives, and the stories had been true. For centuries the Indians have used knives, not only for weapons, but to hack and carve bamboo in such common use in India. It was not too unusual to see a boy totin' a two-edged knife the length of a crusader's sword. As I turned to gaze in a lighted shop window, I suddenly notic-ed that I was being followed. I stopped in my tracks. The sounds of the busy thuroughfare had diminished into comparitive silence. A cart rumbled over the cobblestones a block behind me. Here was an empty street down to the next block and only a few people there. I glanced hurriedly at the many shadowed doorways and windows on either side, I knew I was being watched by several vagrants and that I was in possible danger. But I felt silly about it -- those tales about travelers vanishing were possibly exaggerated. My thoughts chided me, "It can't happen to you. You fool, turn around and head back for the busy section before---" Suddenly I was attacked from the rear--one assailent grabbed my legs, two others instantaneously roped my arms. "Oh Brother!" I thought, "This is it!" Before I could move to defend myself, my legs and arms were bound together by a strong cord, and I was helpless. Then my attackers decided to let me have alook at them. There were four, about fourteen years old. "We shine shoes for you, yes?" inquired the anarchist, grinning evilly as he rubbed manure on my already dirty shoes. "Yes, go ahead," I feebly grined, greatly relieved that the gangsters were only boys. After the cleanup of my shoes was completed,, I was untied. Since my assailents were armed with knives, and doubtlessly adept in thier use, I decided not to retaliate, but to try to get out of my predicament as diplomatically as possible. I gave the spokesman some money, thankful that they hadn't robbed me, and started to leave when another group of at least a dozen boys appeared from nowhere and started clamoring about me. It was with great alarm that I saw one of them pick up another piece of the stuff they had rubbed on my