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Acolyte, v. 1, issue 1, Fall 1942
Page 15
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...outside of herself, from which she...to a dizzy height from which the milling of the crowd looked like the purposeless activity of a swarm of ants, and then swoop down close enough to see her own pale face raised inquiringly at some new voter. Perhaps she would faint, she thought in a moment of comparative lucidity. She hopes that she could at least finish the job and collect her pay: God knows she needed it. As a vaguely familiar figure caught her attention, her senses suddenly returned to her. The young law student was indeed mistaken, for here came Judge Poindexter striding through the crowd; the old man, Wilson, hobbling at his side. "Myra, my dear girl, I've not seen you for months. But where are those rosy cheeks I once knew? Are you sure you're not ill?" "Oh judge, I'm so glad to see you! I thought---well, I must be too tired." "Well you should be through here pretty soon, and then I'll take you for a ride in the country. A little rest and some fresh air and you'll not even know there is a third ward. You'll come, won't you?" "I'd love to," said Myra, smiling happily at Judge Poindexter. Her eyes drank in every detail from the jolly wrinkles around his eyes to the well-remembered elk tooth on his vest. "Just looking at you makes me feel like a carefree little girl again." "Well, you are my little girl, you know. By the way, I've fixed up Mr. Wilson here with the necessary papers so he can vote. I think you'll find everything all right now, Mr. Wilson; be sure to look me up any time I can do something for you. I'll have to run along now, Myra, but I'll meet you out in front when the polls close." As the judge turned and walked away, Myra noticed something white drop to the floor. "Oh Judge Poindexter, you've dropped your elk's tooth!" she cried, and jumping up, she ran around the table and stooped to the floor. Her piercing scream brought the whole crowd around her, but when they asked what was wrong, she could only howl and gibber, as she pointed to the fat white maggot which wriggled in her hand. *********************** (Advertisement) -- L I G H T -- A Canadian Fantasy Fan magazine of distinction. Published monthly by Leslie A. Croutch, Box 121, Parry Sound, Ontario. 5c per copy. A sample copy sent free on request: Serious contributions invited -- 15 --
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...outside of herself, from which she...to a dizzy height from which the milling of the crowd looked like the purposeless activity of a swarm of ants, and then swoop down close enough to see her own pale face raised inquiringly at some new voter. Perhaps she would faint, she thought in a moment of comparative lucidity. She hopes that she could at least finish the job and collect her pay: God knows she needed it. As a vaguely familiar figure caught her attention, her senses suddenly returned to her. The young law student was indeed mistaken, for here came Judge Poindexter striding through the crowd; the old man, Wilson, hobbling at his side. "Myra, my dear girl, I've not seen you for months. But where are those rosy cheeks I once knew? Are you sure you're not ill?" "Oh judge, I'm so glad to see you! I thought---well, I must be too tired." "Well you should be through here pretty soon, and then I'll take you for a ride in the country. A little rest and some fresh air and you'll not even know there is a third ward. You'll come, won't you?" "I'd love to," said Myra, smiling happily at Judge Poindexter. Her eyes drank in every detail from the jolly wrinkles around his eyes to the well-remembered elk tooth on his vest. "Just looking at you makes me feel like a carefree little girl again." "Well, you are my little girl, you know. By the way, I've fixed up Mr. Wilson here with the necessary papers so he can vote. I think you'll find everything all right now, Mr. Wilson; be sure to look me up any time I can do something for you. I'll have to run along now, Myra, but I'll meet you out in front when the polls close." As the judge turned and walked away, Myra noticed something white drop to the floor. "Oh Judge Poindexter, you've dropped your elk's tooth!" she cried, and jumping up, she ran around the table and stooped to the floor. Her piercing scream brought the whole crowd around her, but when they asked what was wrong, she could only howl and gibber, as she pointed to the fat white maggot which wriggled in her hand. *********************** (Advertisement) -- L I G H T -- A Canadian Fantasy Fan magazine of distinction. Published monthly by Leslie A. Croutch, Box 121, Parry Sound, Ontario. 5c per copy. A sample copy sent free on request: Serious contributions invited -- 15 --
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