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Acolyte, v. 3, issue 1, whole no. 9, Winter 1945
Page 18
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The dreams began (the stranger said) about two weeks ago, though it seems more like two years. I have always been perfectly normal as far as dreams are concerned, never had any out of the ordinary ones until this night. At first it seemed as though I were walking down a dark street at night, alone. Then I knew someone was following me. I heard nothing, nor did I see anyone, but I knew. I was terror-stricken as I made my way down dark streets, a horrible, nameless fear tearing at me. At last I was home. I entered my apartment quickly and locked the door behind me, feeling greatly relieved for the moment. But even in these familiar surroundings-- in the dream I was accustomed to them, though they didn't resemble my apartment in any way--I couldn't shake off that awful fear. The next dream might have been a continuation of the first, but I can't tell for there was no sense of the passage of time. I was reading a book. I can see the title and the author's name as clearly at this moment as I could then. It was The Devil Is an Egotist by Eric Kenley. Yes, it was by you, though even in my dream I thought it rather strange for I've read all your books and you never had one published of that title. It was an excellent tale about a man who bought the Devil's services, then beat his Satanic Majesty at his own game because of the latter's inherent egotism. The plot of the story involved a key which Sathanas should have had in his possession at the end to substantiate his claim for the man's soul. But the other held it out to the Devil--token of his victory. In my dream I had just finished reading the book. I suddenly felt as if there was another presence in the room. I looked up, glanced carefully around the darkened corners of the chamber. Then I froze. In the middle of the room was a tall,dark figure, vaguely blurred. But I felt with a sick horror that I knew this figure, knew it from the depths of nightmare and the dark places of the mind. It came towards me slowly and I watched with the fascination of the bird for the advancing python. It halted about two feet from my chair, still indistinguishable in the gloom. For some reason I felt glad I couldn't see that countenance. Then it held forth a hand and the swirling luminescence that was its face cleared enough to let me see red, sensuous lips smiling in sheer, quintessential evil. I looked downwards at the hand. In its outstretched palm was a key. In that moment I was the man in The Devil Is an Egotist, while before me stood the Devil himself--holding out the key. An apparently simple thing, connected by my troubled mind with the character in your book. But I knew with that uncanny surety of dream-life that if I was made to accept the key I would be eternally damned, for I had given the Prince of Darkness the worst affront that could be given. The dream finished abruptly. But the next night it came again, more clearly this time. The figure that followed me down the dark street seemed to be more distinguishable, the face behind the swirling luminescence that handed me the key in the second dream less obscured. And each night for the past two weeks it has haunted me, becoming clearer and clearer, until last night I saw him. he was reaching forward to me, thrusting the key into my hands, when the dream ended. But I know that tonight he will reach me, force the key into my hands. If he does that, I'm doomed. You must help me, Mr. Kenley! ****** There was silence in the room as the stranger finished. I glanced involuntarily at the writing table in the east window, the sheets of typewritten manuscript scattered around on its top as I had -- 18 --
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The dreams began (the stranger said) about two weeks ago, though it seems more like two years. I have always been perfectly normal as far as dreams are concerned, never had any out of the ordinary ones until this night. At first it seemed as though I were walking down a dark street at night, alone. Then I knew someone was following me. I heard nothing, nor did I see anyone, but I knew. I was terror-stricken as I made my way down dark streets, a horrible, nameless fear tearing at me. At last I was home. I entered my apartment quickly and locked the door behind me, feeling greatly relieved for the moment. But even in these familiar surroundings-- in the dream I was accustomed to them, though they didn't resemble my apartment in any way--I couldn't shake off that awful fear. The next dream might have been a continuation of the first, but I can't tell for there was no sense of the passage of time. I was reading a book. I can see the title and the author's name as clearly at this moment as I could then. It was The Devil Is an Egotist by Eric Kenley. Yes, it was by you, though even in my dream I thought it rather strange for I've read all your books and you never had one published of that title. It was an excellent tale about a man who bought the Devil's services, then beat his Satanic Majesty at his own game because of the latter's inherent egotism. The plot of the story involved a key which Sathanas should have had in his possession at the end to substantiate his claim for the man's soul. But the other held it out to the Devil--token of his victory. In my dream I had just finished reading the book. I suddenly felt as if there was another presence in the room. I looked up, glanced carefully around the darkened corners of the chamber. Then I froze. In the middle of the room was a tall,dark figure, vaguely blurred. But I felt with a sick horror that I knew this figure, knew it from the depths of nightmare and the dark places of the mind. It came towards me slowly and I watched with the fascination of the bird for the advancing python. It halted about two feet from my chair, still indistinguishable in the gloom. For some reason I felt glad I couldn't see that countenance. Then it held forth a hand and the swirling luminescence that was its face cleared enough to let me see red, sensuous lips smiling in sheer, quintessential evil. I looked downwards at the hand. In its outstretched palm was a key. In that moment I was the man in The Devil Is an Egotist, while before me stood the Devil himself--holding out the key. An apparently simple thing, connected by my troubled mind with the character in your book. But I knew with that uncanny surety of dream-life that if I was made to accept the key I would be eternally damned, for I had given the Prince of Darkness the worst affront that could be given. The dream finished abruptly. But the next night it came again, more clearly this time. The figure that followed me down the dark street seemed to be more distinguishable, the face behind the swirling luminescence that handed me the key in the second dream less obscured. And each night for the past two weeks it has haunted me, becoming clearer and clearer, until last night I saw him. he was reaching forward to me, thrusting the key into my hands, when the dream ended. But I know that tonight he will reach me, force the key into my hands. If he does that, I'm doomed. You must help me, Mr. Kenley! ****** There was silence in the room as the stranger finished. I glanced involuntarily at the writing table in the east window, the sheets of typewritten manuscript scattered around on its top as I had -- 18 --
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