Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 47 — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

TRYST Loved they are by her in their simplicity. And drawing near to her. Galvanic, impulse-motored limbs they have.- Uncompli- cated nervous systems. She feels of them and wonders, loving them so made. They ring her round, puny, near her. Gamut of strange, chaotic wonderings. A rippling as of apprehension. Fear, at last, seething about her. From them. She feels it, wonders at it. Too late she senses terror stalking deep within the fibres of their beings. Too late to will herself away. To interpose between these creatures and her per- son some protecting barrier. All guileless, she. Full young ‘and inexperienced. Too trust- ing. Innocent with ail her knowledge. Too late to check nerve-impulses that motor 133 down to touch to devastating movement pendant limbs. With death all latent in grim-_ 4 pointing muzzles. Great, sear- ing globes of spewing fire. Atoms goaded into madness. Ravening. All murderous. Seeking to devour her. Defenceless, she. Destroyed. Fragile, upon the honey coloured grasses. Star-born. Child of gods. Cummunicant with finite things and in- finite. She death. Pearly-lustred is her broken skin. Fluidly oozing are her wounds. They stride, the vertebrates, about her form, mouthing things. Tread softly. Weep. God- made she was. God-loved. Bright jewel. But invertebrate. A pseudopod, Ameba. comichooks.<onle » * . , =" is beautiful still in| SR ae Tasty hs ohesé sot ost Gs ° o ad a or ~~ ie? ae , > - Brahh de ete Phi ve Be ey 1 The . pe a> Fahy, my oe oa) oe ol, eee ertr, LAs Ac bibdate © ro “ff ™ ca ,\ = C E