Transcribe
Translate
IFA Review, v. 1, issue 2, September-October 1940
Page 3
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
Fred SHroyer's MIDNIGHT MADONNA How dark it was, and how lonely. Try as he might, he could not see anything. His eyes were open and yet there was not the slightest bit of light to enter them. His hands, outstretched, felt nothing and the ground beneath his feet was rutted and seemingly damp. At first there had been firm earth beneath him but gradually it had become soft and he feared that he was approaching a mash land but, because he was afraid, he dared not stop walking. He passed his hand across his brow and felt that it was damp. Somehow he could not remember; he couldn't think. Why he was here and where "here" might be, he knew not. He was afraid with a fear that left him trembling. If he could only remember, he thought. There was a wind that came from the direction towards which he was walking. It was a dank and ancient wind, laden with the moisture of ages and the unhealthy coolness of dead things. He was walking now, on softer ground. He heard the sound of moist earth pulling from his feet when he stopped and the blackness seemed even darker than when he had commenced this journey into Night. And then he heard fro the first time the rustling noises from about him. At first they were faint and far and then they seemed nearer to him. Leathery wings seemed to beat the air above him and to his fear-driven mind the rustling seemed to be the creeping of obscene night things that inhabited this land of fear. It was then that fear gripped him, and he stopped his walking. There was water about his ankles; he felt it, slimed and cold, and he wanted to run and run. But he was tired and weary and afraid. He cried then; cried with lonely, fearful sobs. If he could only remember; only think; only know. And then a soft hand clasped his own and [underlined] felt [underlined] a benign presence near to him. "Don't be afraid," said a soft, feminine voice from beside him "I'll help you." His fear was gone. He turned in the direction of the voice as a frightened child might turn to its mother. "I'm so glad you are here," he said simply. "It was hard to find you here", she said. "This is such a large land and it is so full of pits and swamps"/ "I'm glad you found me", he said. "I was lost and afraid". "I find many of you here", she replied. And then she continued sadly, "But there are so many of you that I don't find". He no longer tried to think; to remember. As she led him, he was no longer afraid. His feet were now on solid ground and he knew they were as sending. "Who are you?" he asked. "I have no name", she replied sadly. "Some call me the Midnight Madonna because this is a land of eternal midnight." "Do you stay here always?" he asked. "Always", she replied. "As long as men and women come here and are afraid and lost [underline]I[underline] shall be here". Her hand was soft and warm in his and, filled with the wonder of it, he followed her as a child. And then he was that ahead of them, seemingly at the summit of a long rolling hill they were climbing, there was a misty glow of light. Faint and far, but light. He quickened his steps. The ground was now firm beneath him; the old weariness was falling from him as a heavy cloak. And then she stopped. "I can go no further", she said. "But you are safe now. Walk toward the light; you can't miss the way."
Saving...
prev
next
Fred SHroyer's MIDNIGHT MADONNA How dark it was, and how lonely. Try as he might, he could not see anything. His eyes were open and yet there was not the slightest bit of light to enter them. His hands, outstretched, felt nothing and the ground beneath his feet was rutted and seemingly damp. At first there had been firm earth beneath him but gradually it had become soft and he feared that he was approaching a mash land but, because he was afraid, he dared not stop walking. He passed his hand across his brow and felt that it was damp. Somehow he could not remember; he couldn't think. Why he was here and where "here" might be, he knew not. He was afraid with a fear that left him trembling. If he could only remember, he thought. There was a wind that came from the direction towards which he was walking. It was a dank and ancient wind, laden with the moisture of ages and the unhealthy coolness of dead things. He was walking now, on softer ground. He heard the sound of moist earth pulling from his feet when he stopped and the blackness seemed even darker than when he had commenced this journey into Night. And then he heard fro the first time the rustling noises from about him. At first they were faint and far and then they seemed nearer to him. Leathery wings seemed to beat the air above him and to his fear-driven mind the rustling seemed to be the creeping of obscene night things that inhabited this land of fear. It was then that fear gripped him, and he stopped his walking. There was water about his ankles; he felt it, slimed and cold, and he wanted to run and run. But he was tired and weary and afraid. He cried then; cried with lonely, fearful sobs. If he could only remember; only think; only know. And then a soft hand clasped his own and [underlined] felt [underlined] a benign presence near to him. "Don't be afraid," said a soft, feminine voice from beside him "I'll help you." His fear was gone. He turned in the direction of the voice as a frightened child might turn to its mother. "I'm so glad you are here," he said simply. "It was hard to find you here", she said. "This is such a large land and it is so full of pits and swamps"/ "I'm glad you found me", he said. "I was lost and afraid". "I find many of you here", she replied. And then she continued sadly, "But there are so many of you that I don't find". He no longer tried to think; to remember. As she led him, he was no longer afraid. His feet were now on solid ground and he knew they were as sending. "Who are you?" he asked. "I have no name", she replied sadly. "Some call me the Midnight Madonna because this is a land of eternal midnight." "Do you stay here always?" he asked. "Always", she replied. "As long as men and women come here and are afraid and lost [underline]I[underline] shall be here". Her hand was soft and warm in his and, filled with the wonder of it, he followed her as a child. And then he was that ahead of them, seemingly at the summit of a long rolling hill they were climbing, there was a misty glow of light. Faint and far, but light. He quickened his steps. The ground was now firm beneath him; the old weariness was falling from him as a heavy cloak. And then she stopped. "I can go no further", she said. "But you are safe now. Walk toward the light; you can't miss the way."
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar
