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Fantasy Commentator, v. 1, issue 3, September 1944

Page 38

38
FANTASY COMMENTATOR

Those stories mentioned above were based on new ideas, new scientific that had not been heard of before. But there were other great stories, stories with delicate insinuations, stories that had to be understood thoroughly to be savored, stories that dealt with the conflict of future science and human emotions in a manner which would credit the best of modern novelists.

David H. Keller has written many fine stories. But among the finest are two, very short, which are destined to live and be anthologized. One is "The Thing in the Cellar", which was originally published in Weird Tales and which is also available in a limited brochure form. This tale is one of the grimmest examples of sheer horror ever written. It is also, incidentally, Dr. Keller's own favorite out of all his writings. A child is born to British parents, a child normal in every respect save one---he is afraid to go near the cellar of the house. This puzzles the parents greatly, for the cellar is an ordinary one with its piles of firewood, its cider-barrels and heating equipment; they themselves are in the place several times a day, and nothing unusual has ever been found. But as the child grew older its fear of the cellar increased to such an extent that it could not bear to be in the kitchen near the cellar-door, and even stuffed its keyhole and cracks with bits of paper. The lock was an object to be all but worshipped. Exasperated by his behavior, the couple lock their son in the kitchen with the cellar door nailed open on the advice of a family doctor, who feels taht when the boy finds out that there is nothing to fear he will forget his childish fancy. But later, convinced that his remedy was a poor one, the physician visits the family and before him the kitchen door is opened. The lamp is out, and on the floor lies the torn, mutilated remains of the little boy..."What killed him, doctor? What killed him!" shouts the grief-stricken father. "How do I know?" the doctor replies. "How do I know? Didn't you tell me that there was nothing there? Nothing down there? In the cellar?"

The plot of "No More Tomorrows" is based upon the title itself. Here, Dr. Keller shows a group of foreign agents who plot to poison America's water by poisoning it with a drug that will cause people to be unable to plan for the future; they will believe that there is no tomorrow---only the present exists. The agents capture an American, tell him of their plans, and finally promise him a horrible death if he does not aid them. He is given orders to drop a supply of the drug into the city resevoir. Instead, however, he takes some of it himself. When he meets the agents the next day they realize that he has not carried out his part of the plan. "If you do not poison the water system tonight," he is told, "you will tomorrow experience the hideous death that we have shown you." The young man looks at them---and laughs. "You can't scare me with your ridiculous threats. Kill me tomorrow!" And he laughs again loudly. "I have no more tomorrows!"

L. Taylor Hanson, in her "Undersea Tube," has written a story whose greatness rests upon a few paragraphs of fine writing. A tube is built beneath the sea from this country to England. It has been purposely routed in a big arc to avoid an area of volcanic activity. A man rides the tube to Europe, as thousands have done for years. Suddenly a great volcanic blast crumples the tunnel and cars; gigantic rents appear in the walls, and molten lava pours in. And the young man, in that instant before unconsciousness overwhelms him, sees a strange sight. Through a newly-made rift he gazes down into a great subterranean city of unknown origin. A deserted city? No! Down a street runs a tiny child, and in its wake flow giant tides of lava. The child is near exhaustion, but finally manages to reach the tallest building in sight, which is capped by a statue of a strangely-garbed figure. And as darkness wraps his brain, the man remembers a scene that will haunt him forever---a background of a wondrous ancient city, its streets molten streams of lava, and a tiny child, running, running...

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38 FANTASY COMMENTATOR Those stories mentioned above were based on new ideas, new scientific that had not been heard of before. But there were other great stories, stories with delicate insinuations, stories that had to be understood thoroughly to be savored, stories that dealt with the conflict of future science and human emotions in a manner which would credit the best of modern novelists. David H. Keller has written many fine stories. But among the finest are two, very short, which are destined to live and be anthologized. One is "The Thing in the Cellar", which was originally published in Weird Tales and which is also available in a limited brochure form. This tale is one of the grimmest examples of sheer horror ever written. It is also, incidentally, Dr. Keller's own favorite out of all his writings. A child is born to British parents, a child normal in every respect save one---he is afraid to go near the cellar of the house. This puzzles the parents greatly, for the cellar is an ordinary one with its piles of firewood, its cider-barrels and heating equipment; they themselves are in the place several times a day, and nothing unusual has ever been found. But as the child grew older its fear of the cellar increased to such an extent that it could not bear to be in the kitchen near the cellar-door, and even stuffed its keyhole and cracks with bits of paper. The lock was an object to be all but worshipped. Exasperated by his behavior, the couple lock their son in the kitchen with the cellar door nailed open on the advice of a family doctor, who feels taht when the boy finds out that there is nothing to fear he will forget his childish fancy. But later, convinced that his remedy was a poor one, the physician visits the family and before him the kitchen door is opened. The lamp is out, and on the floor lies the torn, mutilated remains of the little boy..."What killed him, doctor? What killed him!" shouts the grief-stricken father. "How do I know?" the doctor replies. "How do I know? Didn't you tell me that there was nothing there? Nothing down there? In the cellar?" The plot of "No More Tomorrows" is based upon the title itself. Here, Dr. Keller shows a group of foreign agents who plot to poison America's water by poisoning it with a drug that will cause people to be unable to plan for the future; they will believe that there is no tomorrow---only the present exists. The agents capture an American, tell him of their plans, and finally promise him a horrible death if he does not aid them. He is given orders to drop a supply of the drug into the city resevoir. Instead, however, he takes some of it himself. When he meets the agents the next day they realize that he has not carried out his part of the plan. "If you do not poison the water system tonight," he is told, "you will tomorrow experience the hideous death that we have shown you." The young man looks at them---and laughs. "You can't scare me with your ridiculous threats. Kill me tomorrow!" And he laughs again loudly. "I have no more tomorrows!" L. Taylor Hanson, in her "Undersea Tube," has written a story whose greatness rests upon a few paragraphs of fine writing. A tube is built beneath the sea from this country to England. It has been purposely routed in a big arc to avoid an area of volcanic activity. A man rides the tube to Europe, as thousands have done for years. Suddenly a great volcanic blast crumples the tunnel and cars; gigantic rents appear in the walls, and molten lava pours in. And the young man, in that instant before unconsciousness overwhelms him, sees a strange sight. Through a newly-made rift he gazes down into a great subterranean city of unknown origin. A deserted city? No! Down a street runs a tiny child, and in its wake flow giant tides of lava. The child is near exhaustion, but finally manages to reach the tallest building in sight, which is capped by a statue of a strangely-garbed figure. And as darkness wraps his brain, the man remembers a scene that will haunt him forever---a background of a wondrous ancient city, its streets molten streams of lava, and a tiny child, running, running...