Pulp Fiction, 1954 · page 54 of 162
Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 41 — page 54: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1954. 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.
FLY BY NIGHT any ideas, chump. You got one little power—you ain’t got everything. You’re still a skinny shrimp, and don’t you ever forget that!” He rollicked there in the air, rolling, somersaulting, swooping, swinging, laughing and yelling in high glee at this wonderful freedom and ability. He wondered if he could carry loads while levitating, and dropped to the ground. He found a huge rock, one he could barely move while stand- ing. He lay down on the air at arm’s length above it, reached down and got his hands firmly under it. He willed himself to rise and did so, easily, effort- lessly, the great stone seeming now to have little or no weight in his hands. Long after midnight, feeling that his chances of being ob- served were almost nil, he de- cided to fly home. He rose high into the air and arrowed away. “Sure beats the bus,” he chortled. Near the outskirts of the city he skimmed over a huge ten- storey warehouse. Seeing painters’ equipment on the roof, a sudden impish whim struck him, making him for- 53 get, momentarily, his fear of discovery. j He picked up a bucket of white paint and a brush, and on the side wall that was un- broken by windows, he painted a great thirty foot square noughts and crosses design and filled it in, the ““X”’ winning in five moves. ““Now let ’em figure how that got there, over a hundred feet up,”’ he grinned wolfishly. He continued his flight back across the housetops to his rooming house. He dropped, unseen, in free fall into the back yard. But as he walked around on foot to enter the front door, he encountered one of the tenants, sitting on the front porch, smoking. “Hi, Bill,’ the man laughed raucously. “‘Fall outa th’ win- dow this time?” “Ob, bi seks. Newton stammered and fled to his Toom. , He still hadn’t conquered his fear of ridicule. Newton’s writing suffered more and more, as he was now sleeping nearly all day so he could go out nights and conmicloooks.comn