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Phantagraph, v. 6, issue 4, August 1937
Page 4
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THE PHANTAGRAPH strong confident strength, of power and pride unbounded, and of joy of living. The youth strained forward. His eyes sought to tear the blue from the sky, sought to hasten the time, to shut out the beating of the clock and move forward to escape these grim weary days. He strained and suddenly in an agony of spirit brought his fist down with a thunderous crash upon the reading-table. "What was that noise?" called a tired female voice from the kitchen. "Oh nothing," the youth spoke resignedly and got up and left the room. The Dweller in the Hills By August W. Derleth Deep in the hills he dwells, Spawn of the sinister dark, And his fearsome cry wells Forth where never sings the lark. Sometimes at night, footfalls Padding along the ledge, And once soul-shaking calls From someone on life's edge. Since then the hills were shunned by all Who would be strange to fright, For none would hear that fearsome call Wavering down the night.
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THE PHANTAGRAPH strong confident strength, of power and pride unbounded, and of joy of living. The youth strained forward. His eyes sought to tear the blue from the sky, sought to hasten the time, to shut out the beating of the clock and move forward to escape these grim weary days. He strained and suddenly in an agony of spirit brought his fist down with a thunderous crash upon the reading-table. "What was that noise?" called a tired female voice from the kitchen. "Oh nothing," the youth spoke resignedly and got up and left the room. The Dweller in the Hills By August W. Derleth Deep in the hills he dwells, Spawn of the sinister dark, And his fearsome cry wells Forth where never sings the lark. Sometimes at night, footfalls Padding along the ledge, And once soul-shaking calls From someone on life's edge. Since then the hills were shunned by all Who would be strange to fright, For none would hear that fearsome call Wavering down the night.
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