DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Fantasite, v. 2, issue 5, whole 11, May-June 1943

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Fantasite, v. 2, issue 5, whole 11, May-June 1943

Page 21

THE FANTASITE ..... 21

Master, isn't every human immortal--every one who was placed on this Earth in the Beginning, by the God, your own father? That is the way things are; that is the way they must be. The being said "she" had lived twenty years. What fantasm is that? Years--what are they? It is said a year is composed of three hundred and sixty-five days. Days.... I have never heard such utter nonsense. All humans live as I have lived--in blue-lighted houses. The Gods, like you, Master, watch over us, feed us, and teach us. This creature is mad, mad....

It said that I have lived over five hundred years! Years, days--bosh! Time is not chopped into units--it is a long, steady stream wherein nothing that is immortal perishes; and I am immortal. This thing must be a semi-civilized animal that haunts the jungle. It cannot be a human being. Finally I slapped it shut and dragged it around the boulder and debris, into the same corner. 

The great rumblings in the earth have ceased. No longer do I hear the screams and moans of the dying, but often strange odors drift into this chamber. What has happened? Have the Asiatics destroyed everything? Many savage animals must have been slaughtered in that war.

The strange creature is unconscious. I am growing very hungry. I am weak. . . terribly weak. Again the red flare in the sky is dimming. I have abandoned my plan for escape; the sun would surely destroy me, and I cannot see in the awful darkness. 

Master, what shall I do? You have forsaken me. Am I to perish in this once splendid home, now transformed into my own tomb?

Reflection in the mirror now shows strange, almost ghastly deterioriation. What is happening to me? Never have I looked as depleted as I do now--never in all my life. Eyes are glaring, red balls; teeth long and yellow, face shrunken . . . . 

My fingers weaken as I write. I must have food. That creature is made of flesh and blood. It is weaker than I. I must have strength and food--perhaps I can escape. Some equipment in the gymnasium. But what if I should? Lost in a cold, hideous world of light and darkness....must have food. Master, you are accursed!

*****

I tried to build an avenue of escape, using chairs and implements from the gymnasium. My strength gave out. That has never happened before--Why should I leave? My Master is gone; soon I, too, will go . . . where?

Another great darkness has passed, and the creature in the corner is growing cold by inches. The poor thing whimpers now and then. I wish I had some food--for it and myself. I know I cannot last much longer. 

I have been thinking about what this pitiful creature told me. Years, days- I wonder if I am the "joke", the "successful scientific and biological experiment" of the age? And I wonder if I am abnormal--if other humans mingle freely. I think it would be rather pleasant....

I must do something to keep my mind occupied--keep it off that hideous problem. What I finish this chronicle I shall place it in a brass cylinder I have been keeping in my work shop. I shall seal it and throw it through the great hole in the ceiling; granted I have enough strength. Why I am doing this I cannot say precisely. Maybe someone, like this little creature, will find it and gain thereby.

Again my thoughts turn to that thing in the corner. The blood is yet warm . . . I am hungry. Should I? It's going to die anyway. I might as well live for a while. I cannot bear the thought of dying.

Great God! I looked in my mirror again and noted a terrible transformation. my hair is gray. . . white. Eyes are mere holes in my skull . . . skin drawing tight over my bones . . . 

I have changed, suddenly, to a hideous monstrosity. First the cylinder. . . Master! Master . . . save me. It is the end....

Saving...

THE FANTASITE ..... 21 Master, isn't every human immortal--every one who was placed on this Earth in the Beginning, by the God, your own father? That is the way things are; that is the way they must be. The being said "she" had lived twenty years. What fantasm is that? Years--what are they? It is said a year is composed of three hundred and sixty-five days. Days.... I have never heard such utter nonsense. All humans live as I have lived--in blue-lighted houses. The Gods, like you, Master, watch over us, feed us, and teach us. This creature is mad, mad.... It said that I have lived over five hundred years! Years, days--bosh! Time is not chopped into units--it is a long, steady stream wherein nothing that is immortal perishes; and I am immortal. This thing must be a semi-civilized animal that haunts the jungle. It cannot be a human being. Finally I slapped it shut and dragged it around the boulder and debris, into the same corner. The great rumblings in the earth have ceased. No longer do I hear the screams and moans of the dying, but often strange odors drift into this chamber. What has happened? Have the Asiatics destroyed everything? Many savage animals must have been slaughtered in that war. The strange creature is unconscious. I am growing very hungry. I am weak. . . terribly weak. Again the red flare in the sky is dimming. I have abandoned my plan for escape; the sun would surely destroy me, and I cannot see in the awful darkness. Master, what shall I do? You have forsaken me. Am I to perish in this once splendid home, now transformed into my own tomb? Reflection in the mirror now shows strange, almost ghastly deterioriation. What is happening to me? Never have I looked as depleted as I do now--never in all my life. Eyes are glaring, red balls; teeth long and yellow, face shrunken . . . . My fingers weaken as I write. I must have food. That creature is made of flesh and blood. It is weaker than I. I must have strength and food--perhaps I can escape. Some equipment in the gymnasium. But what if I should? Lost in a cold, hideous world of light and darkness....must have food. Master, you are accursed! ***** I tried to build an avenue of escape, using chairs and implements from the gymnasium. My strength gave out. That has never happened before--Why should I leave? My Master is gone; soon I, too, will go . . . where? Another great darkness has passed, and the creature in the corner is growing cold by inches. The poor thing whimpers now and then. I wish I had some food--for it and myself. I know I cannot last much longer. I have been thinking about what this pitiful creature told me. Years, days- I wonder if I am the "joke", the "successful scientific and biological experiment" of the age? And I wonder if I am abnormal--if other humans mingle freely. I think it would be rather pleasant.... I must do something to keep my mind occupied--keep it off that hideous problem. What I finish this chronicle I shall place it in a brass cylinder I have been keeping in my work shop. I shall seal it and throw it through the great hole in the ceiling; granted I have enough strength. Why I am doing this I cannot say precisely. Maybe someone, like this little creature, will find it and gain thereby. Again my thoughts turn to that thing in the corner. The blood is yet warm . . . I am hungry. Should I? It's going to die anyway. I might as well live for a while. I cannot bear the thought of dying. Great God! I looked in my mirror again and noted a terrible transformation. my hair is gray. . . white. Eyes are mere holes in my skull . . . skin drawing tight over my bones . . . I have changed, suddenly, to a hideous monstrosity. First the cylinder. . . Master! Master . . . save me. It is the end....