Avon Fantasy Reader No. 14 — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

thing sparkled like a coin thrown into the air, and suddenly it grew large and fell down softly to land, a long silver craft, round and alien. And a door opened in the side of the silver object and this tall man stepped out.” “If you worked harder you wouldn’t have these silly dreams.” “I rather enjoyed it,” she replied, lying back. “I never suspected myself of such an imagination. Black hair, blue eyes, and white skin. What a strange man, and yet—quite handsome.” “Wishful thinking.” “You're unkind. I didn’t think him up on purpose; he just came in my mind while I drowsed. It wasn’t like a dream. It was so unexpected and different. He looked at me and he said, ‘I’ve come from the third planet in my ship. My name is Nathaniel York——’ ” : “A stupid name; it’s no name at all,” objected the husband. “Of course it’s stupid, because it’s a dream,” she explained softly. “And he said, “This is the first trip across space. There are only two of us in our ship, myself and my friend Bert.’ ” “Another stupid name.” “And he said, ‘We're from a city on Karth; that’s the name of our planet,’ ” continued Mrs. K. “That’s what he said. ‘Earth’ was the name he spoke. And he used another language. Somehow I understood him. With my mind. Telep- athy, I suppose.” Mr. Kk turned away. She stopped him with a word. “Yll?” she called quietly. “Do you ever wonder if—well, if there are people living on the third planet?” “The third planet is incapable of supporting life,” stated the husband pa tiently. “Our scientists have said there's far too much oxygen in their atmos- phere.” “But wouldn't it be fascinating if there were people? And they traveled - through space in some sort of ship?” “Really, Ylla, you know how I hate this emotional wailing. Let’s get on with our work.” Tt was late in the day when she began singing the song as she moved among the whispering pillars of rain. She sang it over and over again. “What's that song?” snapped her husband at last, walking in to sit at the fire table. “T don’t know.” She looked up, surprised at herself. She put her hand to her mouth, unbelieving. The sun was setting. The house was closing itself in, like a giant flower, with the passing of light. A wind blew among the pillars; the fire table bubbled its fierce pool of silver lava. The wind stirred her russet’ hair, crooning softly in her ears, She stood silently looking out into the great. sallow distances of sea bottom, as if recalling something, her yellow eyes soft. and moist. ““Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with. - mine, ” she sang, softly, quietly, slowly. “ ‘Or leave a kiss within the cup, and Vil not ask for wine.” She hummed now, moving her hands in the wind ever so lightly, her eyes shut. She finished the song. It was very beautiful. 22 comichbooks.com -