Avon Fantasy Reader No. 11 — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

It was simple as that. One crashed. One had food. One radioed for help. Help came. La! He clapped his hands. The sun rose and was warm. He felt no sense of mortality. Six days would be no time at all. He would eat, he would read, he would sleep. He glanced at his surroundings. No dangerous animals; a tolerable oxygen supply. What more could one ask. Beans and bacon, was the answer. The happy smell of breakfast filled the air. After breakfast he smoked a cigarette slowly, deeply, blowing out. He nodded contentedly. What a life! Not a scratch on him. Luck. Sheer luck. His head nodded. Sleep, he thought. Good idea. Forty winks. Plenty of time to sleep, take it easy. Six whole Jong, luxurious days of idling and philosophizing. Sleep. He stretched himself out, tucked his arm under his head, and shut his eyes. Insanity came in to take him. The voices whispered. Sleep, yes, sleep, said the voices, Ah, sleep, sleep. | He opened his eyes. The voices stopped. Everything was normal. He shrugged. He shut his eyes casually, fitfully. He settled his long body. Feeeeeeeeeee, sang the voices, far away. Abbbhbbb, sang the voices. ! Sleep, pet sleep, sleep, sleep, sang the voices. Die, die, die, die, die, sang the voices. Ovoooccooccocoo00, cried the voices. Mummmmmmmmmmmmm, a bee ran through his brain. He sat up. He shook his head. He put his hands to his ears. He blinked at the crashed ship. Hard metal. He felt the solid rock under his fingers. He saw the real sun warming the blue sky. Let’s try sleeping on our back, he thought. He adjusted himself, lying back down. His watch ticked on his wrist. The blood burned in bis veins. Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sang the voices. Obbhbbhhhbhhhhhbbh, sang the voices. Abbhbhbhhbhbhhhbh, sang the voices. Die, die, die, die, die, Sleep, sleep, die, sleep, die, sleep, die! Oohbb. Abbhbh. Eeeeeeeeeeececee! Blood tapped in his ears. The sound of the wind rising. Mine, mine, said a voice. Mine, mine, be’s mine! No, mine, mine, said another voice. No, mine, mine; he’s mine! No, ours, ours, sang ten voices. Ours, ours, he’s ours! His fingers twitched. His jaws spasmed. His eyelids jerked. At last, at last, sang a high voice. Now, now. The long time, the watt- ing. Over, over, sang the high voice. Over, over at last! ) It was like being undersea. Green songs, green visions, green time. Bubbled voices drowning in deep liquors of sea tide. Far away choruses chanting senseless rhymes. Leonard Sale stirred in agony. Mine, mine, cried a loud voice. Mine, mine! shrieked another. Oars, oxrs! shrieked the chorus. 80 Comicbooks.com