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Acolyte, v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 5, Fall 1943
Page 23
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not white (and he was all Negro) had a name Anglo-Saxon in the extreme. Semetic and Nordic names also have come to mean little as far as actual ancestry is concerned. There are many fans whose names do give away their racial genesis, but this is of little consequence inasmuch as we obviously are bound together by a tiny, but ever strengthening thread. Blood and skin pigmentation mean nothing. I know personally of no Colored or Oriental fans, but it is fairly certain that these races are represented to some extent. I have heard that a semi-active Negro fan lives somewhere in the South, but that fear of racial discrimination keeps him in retirement. THE BEAST IN THE CAVE by H. P. Lovecraft -o0o- (Editor's Note: This story was written in 1905, when Lovecraft was but 15 years old, and should be of more than passing interest to serious fans as one of the best of HPL's juvenile weirds. It was originally published by W. Paul Cook through the NAPA, and is used here by permission. The unwieldy verboseness and stilted style keep this tale from being of any real literary value; but as a souveneer of the youth of America's greatest exponent of the weird tale, I felt that it was well worthy of being reproduced. FTL.) ---o0o--- The horrible conclusion which had been gradually obtruding itself upon my confused and reluctant mind was now an awful certainty. I was lost, completely, hopelessly lost in the vast and labyrinthine recesses of the Mammoth Cave. Turn as I might, in no direction could my straining vision seize on any object capable of serving as a guidepost to set me on the outward path. That nevermore should I behold the blessed light of day, or scan the pleasant hills and dales of this beautiful world outside, my reason could no longer entertain the slightest unbelief. Yet, indoctrinated as I was by a life of philosophical study, I derived no small measure of satisfaction from my unimpassioned demeanour; for although I had frequently read of the wild frenzies into which were thrown the victims of similar situations, I experienced none of these, but stood quiet as soon as I clearly realised the loss of my bearings. Nor did the thought that i had probably wandered beyond the utmost limits of an ordinary search cause me to abandon my composure even for a moment. If I must die, I reflected, then was this terrible yet majestic cavern as welcome a sepulchre as that which any churchyard might afford; a conception which carried with it more of tranquillity than of despair. Starving would prove my ultimate fate; of this I was certain. Some, I knew, had gone mad under circumstances such as these, but I felt that this end would not be mine. My disaster was the result of no fault save my own, since unknown to the guide I had separated myself from the regular party of sightseers; and, wandering for over an hour in forbidden avenues of the cave, had found myself unable to retrace the devious windings which I had pursued since forsaking my companions. Already my torch had begun to expire; soon I would be enveloped by the total and almost palpable blackness of the bowels of the earth. As I stood in the waning, unsteady light, I idly wondered over the exact circumstances of my coming end. I remembered the accounts which I had heard of the colony of consumptives, who, taking their residence in this gigantic grotto to find health from the apparently salubrious air of the underground world, had found instead death in strange and -- 23 --
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not white (and he was all Negro) had a name Anglo-Saxon in the extreme. Semetic and Nordic names also have come to mean little as far as actual ancestry is concerned. There are many fans whose names do give away their racial genesis, but this is of little consequence inasmuch as we obviously are bound together by a tiny, but ever strengthening thread. Blood and skin pigmentation mean nothing. I know personally of no Colored or Oriental fans, but it is fairly certain that these races are represented to some extent. I have heard that a semi-active Negro fan lives somewhere in the South, but that fear of racial discrimination keeps him in retirement. THE BEAST IN THE CAVE by H. P. Lovecraft -o0o- (Editor's Note: This story was written in 1905, when Lovecraft was but 15 years old, and should be of more than passing interest to serious fans as one of the best of HPL's juvenile weirds. It was originally published by W. Paul Cook through the NAPA, and is used here by permission. The unwieldy verboseness and stilted style keep this tale from being of any real literary value; but as a souveneer of the youth of America's greatest exponent of the weird tale, I felt that it was well worthy of being reproduced. FTL.) ---o0o--- The horrible conclusion which had been gradually obtruding itself upon my confused and reluctant mind was now an awful certainty. I was lost, completely, hopelessly lost in the vast and labyrinthine recesses of the Mammoth Cave. Turn as I might, in no direction could my straining vision seize on any object capable of serving as a guidepost to set me on the outward path. That nevermore should I behold the blessed light of day, or scan the pleasant hills and dales of this beautiful world outside, my reason could no longer entertain the slightest unbelief. Yet, indoctrinated as I was by a life of philosophical study, I derived no small measure of satisfaction from my unimpassioned demeanour; for although I had frequently read of the wild frenzies into which were thrown the victims of similar situations, I experienced none of these, but stood quiet as soon as I clearly realised the loss of my bearings. Nor did the thought that i had probably wandered beyond the utmost limits of an ordinary search cause me to abandon my composure even for a moment. If I must die, I reflected, then was this terrible yet majestic cavern as welcome a sepulchre as that which any churchyard might afford; a conception which carried with it more of tranquillity than of despair. Starving would prove my ultimate fate; of this I was certain. Some, I knew, had gone mad under circumstances such as these, but I felt that this end would not be mine. My disaster was the result of no fault save my own, since unknown to the guide I had separated myself from the regular party of sightseers; and, wandering for over an hour in forbidden avenues of the cave, had found myself unable to retrace the devious windings which I had pursued since forsaking my companions. Already my torch had begun to expire; soon I would be enveloped by the total and almost palpable blackness of the bowels of the earth. As I stood in the waning, unsteady light, I idly wondered over the exact circumstances of my coming end. I remembered the accounts which I had heard of the colony of consumptives, who, taking their residence in this gigantic grotto to find health from the apparently salubrious air of the underground world, had found instead death in strange and -- 23 --
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