DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Fantaseer, v. 2, issue 4, August 1940

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Fantaseer, v. 2, issue 4, August 1940

Page 3

"The Obsessed" --- By Robert W. Lowndes
(Note: Last Fall when FANTASWER was suspended we had this very fine story by Mr. Lowndes on hand and rather than throw it out we decided to use it in a non-fan journeal we publish, THE PRINTERS'DEVILL. We now reproduce Mr. Lowndes story for the purpose for which it was originally intended, to be read by fans. A copy of THE PRINTERS' DEVIL containing the original printing will be sent to any fan sending us 5c.
Geraldine was signalling me from one corner of the room. That could mean but one thing: She had succeded in drawing out young Whitehead What she would have to tell was incertain, but one thing was definite: The company would be prepared tomorrow when Senator Grayne made his new proposal.
I glided over to the curb of the dance floor, excused myself, and started toward Geraldine when something seemed to impact against my brain. I knew this young man. More than that I knew him well. But where had I seen him before?
Geraldine does not like to be kept waiting . But I knew I must see this man, f ind out who he was, and why he looked so familiar. As if an invisible puppet master were pulling my strings, I found myself threading my way through the dancers.
He loocked up as I touched his shoulder and I heard a voice saying? "I beg you pardon, do Iknow you?" . "The girl in his arms looked up, puzzled, as I drew my cigarette case noncinalantly to  conceal the confusionand embarassment I felt. For a secondtire he stared at me, then said: "Yes, I know you."
A moment later, we two were walking arm in arm toward the exit. I felt that he, too, was inder the same compulsion. Geraldine was waiting angrily outside the door; the company awaited my call within the hour Yet I knew that I must walk out under the stars with this young man. 
So que walked under the full moon and the great inverted bowl of the sky along the glistening pavement. And I thought to myself. The moon is a dead woman wrapped in her ceraments and her  levers parade forever her beautiful body in the sky that poets may constantly behold and mourn. And I marvelled at these thoughts for such as these had not occurred to me for many years.
So I turned to the young man and spoke to him in tones that similarly astonished me, even as they would astonish those with whom I had worked these twenty years. 
So we talked of things that are timeless and of the strange webs that weaveth destiny and of the still stranger webs that are woven by an odd form of life known as man in defiance of the stars.
And the young man confessed unto me his secret feras, and I who-yesterday would have laughed and called the police, listened gravely and attentively while a coldness crawled and crawled along my apine. And the young man told me of his obsession.
And this was the manner of his obsession; he feared that he was dead and that the poems he must write, and the songs he must sing, and the words he must speal to men and to a darkhaired girl must die unexpressed. So we talked till dawn came up with bloody hands which betokened the deed she had done.
We parted and I went back to my apartment as one in a dream. Later Geraldine and some men from the company came but I  would not see them, for it seemed to me that they were not real.
Three nights I have met this young man and we have talked of him and of his dream and of his words of fire and his obsession. And I have spoken to him words of encouragament and my belief that his obsession was based on naught save premise. But yestarday, while idling through an old box I hav long forgotter, I came across a picture...
Every night this young man comes to me and I have come to (over)

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"The Obsessed" --- By Robert W. Lowndes (Note: Last Fall when FANTASWER was suspended we had this very fine story by Mr. Lowndes on hand and rather than throw it out we decided to use it in a non-fan journeal we publish, THE PRINTERS'DEVILL. We now reproduce Mr. Lowndes story for the purpose for which it was originally intended, to be read by fans. A copy of THE PRINTERS' DEVIL containing the original printing will be sent to any fan sending us 5c. Geraldine was signalling me from one corner of the room. That could mean but one thing: She had succeded in drawing out young Whitehead What she would have to tell was incertain, but one thing was definite: The company would be prepared tomorrow when Senator Grayne made his new proposal. I glided over to the curb of the dance floor, excused myself, and started toward Geraldine when something seemed to impact against my brain. I knew this young man. More than that I knew him well. But where had I seen him before? Geraldine does not like to be kept waiting . But I knew I must see this man, f ind out who he was, and why he looked so familiar. As if an invisible puppet master were pulling my strings, I found myself threading my way through the dancers. He loocked up as I touched his shoulder and I heard a voice saying? "I beg you pardon, do Iknow you?" . "The girl in his arms looked up, puzzled, as I drew my cigarette case noncinalantly to conceal the confusionand embarassment I felt. For a secondtire he stared at me, then said: "Yes, I know you." A moment later, we two were walking arm in arm toward the exit. I felt that he, too, was inder the same compulsion. Geraldine was waiting angrily outside the door; the company awaited my call within the hour Yet I knew that I must walk out under the stars with this young man. So que walked under the full moon and the great inverted bowl of the sky along the glistening pavement. And I thought to myself. The moon is a dead woman wrapped in her ceraments and her levers parade forever her beautiful body in the sky that poets may constantly behold and mourn. And I marvelled at these thoughts for such as these had not occurred to me for many years. So I turned to the young man and spoke to him in tones that similarly astonished me, even as they would astonish those with whom I had worked these twenty years. So we talked of things that are timeless and of the strange webs that weaveth destiny and of the still stranger webs that are woven by an odd form of life known as man in defiance of the stars. And the young man confessed unto me his secret feras, and I who-yesterday would have laughed and called the police, listened gravely and attentively while a coldness crawled and crawled along my apine. And the young man told me of his obsession. And this was the manner of his obsession; he feared that he was dead and that the poems he must write, and the songs he must sing, and the words he must speal to men and to a darkhaired girl must die unexpressed. So we talked till dawn came up with bloody hands which betokened the deed she had done. We parted and I went back to my apartment as one in a dream. Later Geraldine and some men from the company came but I would not see them, for it seemed to me that they were not real. Three nights I have met this young man and we have talked of him and of his dream and of his words of fire and his obsession. And I have spoken to him words of encouragament and my belief that his obsession was based on naught save premise. But yestarday, while idling through an old box I hav long forgotter, I came across a picture... Every night this young man comes to me and I have come to (over)