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Acolyte, v. 1, issue 1, Fall 1942
Page 10
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as much as possible. If Kirkland or Vincent saw the satchel, or happened to return to the clinic and find me gone, they would know, and my plans would be ruined. During the long drive I was in a fever of anticipation. Only those in love can know the ecstasy of that moment, as I dreamed of Elsa with her honey-colored hair, soft dimpled cheeks and brilliant smile, remembering the touch of her hands on my brow, the caress of her lips in sweet surrender. Sitting beside Norton, I felt my powers increase as the chemical food stimulated my thoughts, hurled my imagination across the awful barrier that separated my lover and I, seemed to bridge the horrible gulf of time and place and being. In front of Rogers' gate Norton climbed out and paid the hackie, who gave us a stare of bewilderment. The yellow light slanting on his face from above revealed his moving lips, which said: "You scientific guys are sure screwy---" The car door closed and we stood on the snowy pavement. During my long imprisonment, while I studied my enemies, I had become an accomplished lip-reader, a knowledge that stood me well half an hour later. Darkness had fallen swiftly, shrouding the vacant look on Norton's face and the odd, black satchel. Lights from the parlor window filtered through the frosty twilight, showering sparks of ice fire on the tall, snow-laden fir trees in front of the Rogers house. Elsa would be home now---it was after six. I didn't know exactly how to handle the situation. Elsa had seen Norton only a few times, and I couldn't possibly let her know that I was alive in such a hideous condition. That obstacle merely enflamed my desire. Norton moved swiftly across the porch, and I made him veer from the front door to the lighted window, raise the satchel so I could peer into the parlor. The rectangle of light blinded me for a moment, and I was on the point of telling Norton to leave, when I saw the outline of the old sofa with its back to the window---the sofa where Elsa and I had talked and laughed into the small hours. Then I saw two figures on the lounge; and if a physical cry had been feasible, I think I would have screamed in mad delerium. What I saw blasted my peace of mind forever, adding bitter irony to utter, helpless defeat. Elsa was on the sofa---with another young man I had never seen, her head nestled on his shoulder, the dim lights painting her hair a web of spun gold...How long I stood there I shall never know, but when I saw their lips meet in a long, passionate kiss, the exquisite agony was too much. I wished then that my eyes had been destroyed along with my body... Norton retreated, his footsteps muffled by the drifted snow. I thanked God for the darkness as the horror of that moment engulfed me, made me sick with loathing and fury. Truly, I was already dead; beautiful Elsa had another lover. -- 11 --
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as much as possible. If Kirkland or Vincent saw the satchel, or happened to return to the clinic and find me gone, they would know, and my plans would be ruined. During the long drive I was in a fever of anticipation. Only those in love can know the ecstasy of that moment, as I dreamed of Elsa with her honey-colored hair, soft dimpled cheeks and brilliant smile, remembering the touch of her hands on my brow, the caress of her lips in sweet surrender. Sitting beside Norton, I felt my powers increase as the chemical food stimulated my thoughts, hurled my imagination across the awful barrier that separated my lover and I, seemed to bridge the horrible gulf of time and place and being. In front of Rogers' gate Norton climbed out and paid the hackie, who gave us a stare of bewilderment. The yellow light slanting on his face from above revealed his moving lips, which said: "You scientific guys are sure screwy---" The car door closed and we stood on the snowy pavement. During my long imprisonment, while I studied my enemies, I had become an accomplished lip-reader, a knowledge that stood me well half an hour later. Darkness had fallen swiftly, shrouding the vacant look on Norton's face and the odd, black satchel. Lights from the parlor window filtered through the frosty twilight, showering sparks of ice fire on the tall, snow-laden fir trees in front of the Rogers house. Elsa would be home now---it was after six. I didn't know exactly how to handle the situation. Elsa had seen Norton only a few times, and I couldn't possibly let her know that I was alive in such a hideous condition. That obstacle merely enflamed my desire. Norton moved swiftly across the porch, and I made him veer from the front door to the lighted window, raise the satchel so I could peer into the parlor. The rectangle of light blinded me for a moment, and I was on the point of telling Norton to leave, when I saw the outline of the old sofa with its back to the window---the sofa where Elsa and I had talked and laughed into the small hours. Then I saw two figures on the lounge; and if a physical cry had been feasible, I think I would have screamed in mad delerium. What I saw blasted my peace of mind forever, adding bitter irony to utter, helpless defeat. Elsa was on the sofa---with another young man I had never seen, her head nestled on his shoulder, the dim lights painting her hair a web of spun gold...How long I stood there I shall never know, but when I saw their lips meet in a long, passionate kiss, the exquisite agony was too much. I wished then that my eyes had been destroyed along with my body... Norton retreated, his footsteps muffled by the drifted snow. I thanked God for the darkness as the horror of that moment engulfed me, made me sick with loathing and fury. Truly, I was already dead; beautiful Elsa had another lover. -- 11 --
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