DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Acolyte, v. 2, issue 2, whole no. 6, Spring 1944

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Acolyte, v. 2, issue 2, whole no. 6, Spring 1944

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"I understand you perfectly," Ward said soberly. "I still think the Ward Institute is a good idea, and so do you. I know that any time you want to get to work on the Institute, you'll only have to holler 'boo!' in my face, and the executors will turn my estate over to you shortly thereafter. I appreciate everything you've ever done to keep my body and soul together. But you can't tell me not to fall in love. Principally because I have already done so, and I'm not dead yet.
"Famous last words," Kenton remarked acidly.
Ward shrugged. The wistful look had again crept into his face. "Harry, you don't know what love is. Why, man, if I could hold her just once in my arms, I'd die happy."
"Feel like that about it, eh?"
"I do."
"Very well." Kenton began idly to leaf through the yellow section of the phone book. "Run along then. I'll start looking up some contractors for a bit of preliminary haggling on their bids.

Stanley Ward was definitely lost. Never had that stabbing pain in his side projected him into this particular region. It was desert, the same as before, yet none of the landmarks were familiar. And he wandered for a long and indefinite number of days and nights.
Strangely enough, he felt neither hunger nor thirst, nor did the steady plugging along tire him. When the dark blanket of night spread over the earth, and the stars shone coldly, he merely decide it was a good idea to sleep, and he slept. He rose daily with the sun and continued his aimless peregrination.
He had heard that people lost in a desert walk in circles. He made odd designs in the sand, stacked small stones into piles, left every kind of marker his imagination could invent, and never stumbled across them again. This, he concluded, was ample evidence he was not walking in a circle.
He had lost count of the days and nights that had passed before he sighted the low hills on the horizon. Even from the distance, they looked somehow different. He quickened his pace toward them.
Having crossed the river, he realized what the change was. The season had advanced since his last visit. The advance seemed rather rapid, but he accepted it as a matter of course. The grass along the roadside was beginning to grow gray and brittle; the leaves of the poplars had begun to turn; and there was an early fall smell in the air.
He came to the house at the end of the road when the long shadows of afternoon lay across the yellowing lawn. As he expected, the girlcame out on the veranda, her slim, lithe body buoyant and alive. The simple print dress was a different one, but the pattern was as gay as ever, and it clung enticingly to her soft, moulded curves. She went at once to the potted plant on the veranda ledge and began to knead the soil with her fingers.
She murmered something under her breath, words that were almost intelligible to him, and in which he detected a sound of pity. The plant, Ward saw, was the reason for her concern. It was wilted and drooping. Even while she kneaded the soil, the frail stem tilted and a tiny yellow leaf fluttered down.
"Isn't it a shame," he said, "that they cannot bloom forever?"
The girl straightened from her task and started to turn. Ward clutched at that instant with despairing grasp, but there was nothing he could do to halt the inevitable process. The charm was broken.

"It must have been the frost," he said, and suddenly felt foolish under the combined stares of Dr. Harry Kenton and Sonia Martin. He was standing at the window of his own apartment, and had just turned his glance from the street.
"Frost?" exclaimed Kenton. "Don't be silly, Stan. It's summer."
Ward felt himself flush. "I was thinking," he said.
Sonia got up from the davenport and came toward him, a sweet smile curving her sensuous lips. "You mustn't trouble yourself about anything, darling, not even the weather." She stroked his forehead with a cool hand. "I've promised Harry I'll take extra special care of you - and you know I will."
Ward started. What had been going on during his vision? Were those days and nights of wandering actually indicative of days and nights that had passed? Apparently he had told Sonia of his affliction. Harry's face worried him with its odd expression of mingled grimness and pleasure. Ward beckoned to his friend.

-- 22 --

Saving...

"I understand you perfectly," Ward said soberly. "I still think the Ward Institute is a good idea, and so do you. I know that any time you want to get to work on the Institute, you'll only have to holler 'boo!' in my face, and the executors will turn my estate over to you shortly thereafter. I appreciate everything you've ever done to keep my body and soul together. But you can't tell me not to fall in love. Principally because I have already done so, and I'm not dead yet. "Famous last words," Kenton remarked acidly. Ward shrugged. The wistful look had again crept into his face. "Harry, you don't know what love is. Why, man, if I could hold her just once in my arms, I'd die happy." "Feel like that about it, eh?" "I do." "Very well." Kenton began idly to leaf through the yellow section of the phone book. "Run along then. I'll start looking up some contractors for a bit of preliminary haggling on their bids. Stanley Ward was definitely lost. Never had that stabbing pain in his side projected him into this particular region. It was desert, the same as before, yet none of the landmarks were familiar. And he wandered for a long and indefinite number of days and nights. Strangely enough, he felt neither hunger nor thirst, nor did the steady plugging along tire him. When the dark blanket of night spread over the earth, and the stars shone coldly, he merely decide it was a good idea to sleep, and he slept. He rose daily with the sun and continued his aimless peregrination. He had heard that people lost in a desert walk in circles. He made odd designs in the sand, stacked small stones into piles, left every kind of marker his imagination could invent, and never stumbled across them again. This, he concluded, was ample evidence he was not walking in a circle. He had lost count of the days and nights that had passed before he sighted the low hills on the horizon. Even from the distance, they looked somehow different. He quickened his pace toward them. Having crossed the river, he realized what the change was. The season had advanced since his last visit. The advance seemed rather rapid, but he accepted it as a matter of course. The grass along the roadside was beginning to grow gray and brittle; the leaves of the poplars had begun to turn; and there was an early fall smell in the air. He came to the house at the end of the road when the long shadows of afternoon lay across the yellowing lawn. As he expected, the girlcame out on the veranda, her slim, lithe body buoyant and alive. The simple print dress was a different one, but the pattern was as gay as ever, and it clung enticingly to her soft, moulded curves. She went at once to the potted plant on the veranda ledge and began to knead the soil with her fingers. She murmered something under her breath, words that were almost intelligible to him, and in which he detected a sound of pity. The plant, Ward saw, was the reason for her concern. It was wilted and drooping. Even while she kneaded the soil, the frail stem tilted and a tiny yellow leaf fluttered down. "Isn't it a shame," he said, "that they cannot bloom forever?" The girl straightened from her task and started to turn. Ward clutched at that instant with despairing grasp, but there was nothing he could do to halt the inevitable process. The charm was broken. "It must have been the frost," he said, and suddenly felt foolish under the combined stares of Dr. Harry Kenton and Sonia Martin. He was standing at the window of his own apartment, and had just turned his glance from the street. "Frost?" exclaimed Kenton. "Don't be silly, Stan. It's summer." Ward felt himself flush. "I was thinking," he said. Sonia got up from the davenport and came toward him, a sweet smile curving her sensuous lips. "You mustn't trouble yourself about anything, darling, not even the weather." She stroked his forehead with a cool hand. "I've promised Harry I'll take extra special care of you - and you know I will." Ward started. What had been going on during his vision? Were those days and nights of wandering actually indicative of days and nights that had passed? Apparently he had told Sonia of his affliction. Harry's face worried him with its odd expression of mingled grimness and pleasure. Ward beckoned to his friend. -- 22 --