Pulp Fiction, 1954 · page 8 of 162
Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 43 — page 8: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1954. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
TO-MORROW IS ANOTHER DAY growing stronger; and when I notice it consciously, he’s been there some time without my realising it. And he is evil beyond description. It’s like—like a bad smell that has the power to act on the bare brain.” He opened his eyes and looked directly at the psy- chiatrist. ““Then just as the sense of wrongness reaches a climax, he drops all pretence. Everything changes from the false to reveal the evil reality behind it.”” He was sweating visibly now, and there was a tremor in his voice which he fought hard to conceal. “And finally the person himself comes out from behind who- ever it is and—looks at me. And he—I can’t describe———”’ “Like this?’’ said the psy- chiatrist ruthlessly, and peeled the mask from his face. Be- hind it he was thin and hungry, with great cold eyes and teeth that laughed soundlessly and forever in a lipless mouth. August Michel screamed. He screamed silently in the 7 empty caverns of his skull for what seemed like an zon, till his mind fought its way up from sleep to regain conscious control of his vocal cords. The noise woke him instantly, and stopped as if cut off. Dawn showed dimly out- side his window. Sweating, he got off the bed and gathered up the bedclothes which his convulsions had tossed on the floor. He piled them in the middle of the mattress and went over to the wash basin in the corner. There was no point in re-making the bed and trying to get any more sleep. He’d had nearly three hours © already tonight, which was more than the image of horror trapped in his sub- conscious usually granted him. He gulped a long draught of water and splashed face and hands with the cold liquid. His mind cleared a little. A psychiatrist, eh? This was the first time one of the dreams had resulted in a constructive suggestion. A psychiatrist. And to hell with the expense. What was the comicloooks.conrn