Avon Fantasy Reader No. 9 — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

jak ~ iA is isi a} : . ve * 4 me \, ; BLN ONS ge eee he Man Who ever Grew Young by ek: ethos, He Our first Touch? on seeing this story's title was that it was an error; possibly the typesetter meant to print “Old” instead of “Young.” But no, it was not an error. The title 1s correct and therein lies a story that defies easy classifica- tion. Is it science- fiction or 1s 1t weird fiction? Is it past, present, or future? Is wt allegory, fantasy, or just a tale told for the devil of it? As far as we know, the story has never appeared in any magazine and this is the first time it has appeared in a mass-edition medium. Reading it will be a unique experience to all. AOT is becoming restless. Often toward evening she trudges to where the black earth meets the yellow sand and stands looking across the desert until the wind starts. But I sit with my back to the reed screen and watch the Nile. It isn’t just that she’s growing young. She is wearying of the fields: She leaves their tilling to me and lavishes her attentions on the flock. Every day she takes the sheep and goats farther to pasture. I have seen it coming for a long time. For generations the fields have been growing scantier and less diligently irrigated. There seems to be more rain. The houses have become simpler—mere walled tents. And every year some family gathers its flocks and wanders off west. Why should I cling so tenaciously to these poor relics of cipilisiteg a who have seen king Cheops’ men take down the Great oe block ne block and return it to the hills? I often wonder why I never grow young. It is still as much a mystery to me as to the brown farmers who kneel in awe when I walk past. I envy those who grow young. I yearn for the sloughing of wisdom and ‘responsibility, the plunge into a period of lovemaking and breathless excite- ment, the carefree years before the end. But I remain a bearded man of thirty-odd, wearing the goatskin as I s 48 ECoOmMmichooks.co O im