Pulp Fiction, 1919 · page 117 of 192
All-Story Weekly, March 1, 1919 — page 117: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1919. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
- .. > - = ne mee Ss a SS THE ee: OF THE MOON POOL. 450 —close to the threshold of the high gods— soon their essence and their power would stream out into me! I glanced at Larry. His face was transformed—he was like Balder the Beautiful—wonderful as one of those olden half geds of his own beloved isle! His eyes were—wild—with life! And Yolara—I cannot describe her—but as her face turned toward his I saw in the joy of her own eyes infernal allure and a passion withering. I looked at Olaf—and in his face was none of this—only hate, and hate, and hate. The peacock waves streamed out over the waters, cleaving the seeming darkness, a rainbow path of glory. And the veil flashed as though all the rainbows that had ever shone were burning within it. Again ~the mighty sound pealed. Into the center of the veil the light drew itself, grew into an intolerable brightness— and with a storm of tinklings, a tempest of crystalline notes, a tumult of tiny chimings, through it sped—the Shining One! Straight down that radiant path, its high-flung plumes of feathery flame shim- mering, its coruscating spirals whirling, its seven globes of seven colors shining above its glowing core, it raced toward us. The hurricane of bells of diamond glass were jubilant, joyous. I felt O’Keefe grip my arm; Yolara threw her. white arms out in a welcoming gesture; I heard from the tiers a sigh of rapture—and in it a poignant, wailing undertone of agony! And over the waters, down the. light stream, to the end of the ivory pier, flew the Shining One. Through its crystal pizzicati drifted inarticulate murmurings— deadly sweet, stilling the heart and setting it leaping madly. For a moment it paused, poised itself, and then came whirling down the flower path to its priestess, slowly, ever more slow- . ly. It passed Olaf—and I saw his hands clench until the knuckles whitened; saw his mighty chest swell with the terrific re- strained impulse to leap out upon it! {It passed—hovered for a moment be- tween the woman and the dwarf, as though contemplating them; turned to her with its storm of tinklings softened, its murmurings infinitely caressing. Bent toward it, Yolara * — = as ae a. “ a > + ae cae ~—— a = 2 Sg ~~ ie og aes, Se) Oe eee = Se eS ee ee SS 2 — = = — = 3 . — —— SS, aS ae a i ee etd , = Fre SS ‘ = — Far ae < = - seemed to gather within herself pulsing waves of power; she was terrifying; glo- riously, maddeningly evil; and as glorious- ly, maddeningly heavenly! Aphrodite and the Virgin! Tanith of the Carthaginians and St. Bride of the Isles! Succubus and Angel! A queen of hell and a princess of heaven—in one! Only for a moment did that which we had called the Dweller and that these named fhe Shining One, pause. It swept up the ramp to the dais, rested there, slow- ly turning, plumes and spirals lacing and unlacing, throbbing, pulsing. Now its nucleus grew plainer, stronger—human in a. fashion, and all inhuman; neither man nor woman; neither god nor devil; subtly par- taking of all. Nor could I doubt that what- ever it was, within that shining nucleus was something sentient; something that had will and energy, and in some awful, super- normal fashion—intelligence! Another trumpeting—a sound of stones opening—a long, low wail of utter anguish —something moved shadowy in the river of light, and slowly at first, then ever more rapidly, shapes swam through it. There were half a score of them—girls and youths, women and men, And I knew that these were sacrifices thrust out to the god. As they drew on, the Shining One poised it- self, regarded them. They drew closer, and in the eyes of each and in their faces was © the bud of that strange intermingling of emotions, of joy and sorrow, ecstasy and terror, that I had seen in full blossom on Throckmartin’s. The Thing began again its murmurings— now infinitely caressing, coaxing—like the song of a siren from some witched star! And the bell sounds rang out—compelling- ly, calling—calling—calling— I saw Olaf lean far out of his place; saw, half-consciously, at Lugur’s signal, three of the dwarfs creep in and take place, un- noticed, behind him. But in the fire of my interest the sight was burned instanta- neeusly from my mind. Now the first of the swift figures usted upon ‘the dais—and paused. But only for a moment. It was the girl who had been brought before Yolara, when the gnome named Sangar was driven into the nothing- PAnGKY } ny ay cA yo aie a Va Y Nea Maat ei “yal Vell) ‘omicbooks i ‘] u “ wit aT ur te eb Uy lu Te Mh. i Aa a) , heh ai itm ¥ ie var AM ei ih ale t OGM ARAM, Net) NICO RATER Or Le ti A 4 ¢ iN M Ts) ida i , | WW aly Ny if ; , fh) / i : ify ay : ti ne ‘iit | th " be) f Ra AM GE A a i a A oa nh,