A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, December 1949 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

CREEP, SHADOW! that shortly after midnight he left the curtains. » distinctly saw a shadow upon the curtains. - Or, rather, as though it were intermingled » the—the symptoms, in his bedroom. > hibrary, leaving the lights burning, and There was no recurrence of He slept soundly. Nor was he troubled the next night. By the day following he had almost forgotten the matter. “That night he dined out and caine home about eleven o'clock. He went into the library to go over his mail. He told turned in. ag _ me, ‘Suddenly I had the strangest feeling that some one was watching me from the I turned my head, slowly. I © with them—like a shadow cast by some- >» thing -behind. It was about the size and 7 shape of a man.’ "> tains and tore them away. Nothing was > behind them nor was there anything be- > yond the window to cast a shadow. > sat down again at the table, but still he felt eyes upon him. ‘Unwinking eyes,’ he =. said. He jumped to the cur- He ‘Eyes that never left me. Eyes of some one or something that kept always § and back again and again . ee ae eeeving . From left to right . ae q just past the edge of my field of vision. If I turned quickly, it slipped behind me, was watching me from my other side. If I moved slowly, just as slowly did it move.’’ “Sometimes he caught a flickering _ movement, a shadowy flitting, as he pur- _ sued—the eyes. Sometimes he thought he had caught the shadow. But always it faded, was gone, before he could focus it. And instantly he felt its gaze upon him from another quarter. ““From right to left it went,’ he said. . and back again . . Weaving . LEST MY APVICE WHEN THINGS GO ALL el WRONG... |'VE FOUN? SOMETHING GOOD x ¥ er “ “Weaving what?’ I asked. “He answered, quite simply, shroud...’ “He sat there, fighting until he could fight no more. Then he sought refuge in his bedroom. He did not sleep well, for he thought the shadow was lurking on the threshold; had pressed itself against the other side of the door, listening. If so, it did not enter. “Dawn came, and after that he slept soundly. He arose late, spent the after- noon at golf, dined out, went with a party to the theater and then to a night club. For hours he had given no thought to the experience of the night before. He said, ‘If I thought of it at all, it was to laugh at it as childish foolishness.’ He reached home about three o’clock. He let himself in. As he closed the door he heard a whispering—‘You are late!’ It was quite plain, and as though the whisper stood close beside him—”’ E KERADEL interrupted: “Progres- sive hallucination. First the idea of movement; then the sharpening into shape ; then sound hallucination progress- ing from the visual field to the auditory.” Bill went on, as though he had not heard, “He said the voice had some quality which—I quote him—‘made you feel the loathing you do when you put your hand on a slimy slug in a garden at night, and at the same time an unholy desire to have it go on whispering forever.’ He said, ‘It was an unnameable horror and perverted ecstasy in one.’ “Simpson had left the lights burning. The hall was well lighted. He could see no one. But the voice had been reality. YES -- THAT CLEAR, CLEAN TASTE MAKES LIFE ONE GRANG SWEET SONG/ 33 (<0) = Poe OR PD PRE AS yf ARATE Re PAP TO FR SITE BAD LA ae i ee ae a OR Pe fF FE Fe A OOPS GE 74 2 Ese Pri Oc lay te 2 >» te & » 62°. re *.