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قراءة كتاب The Fantasy Fan November 1933 The Fans' Own Magazine

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The Fantasy Fan November 1933
The Fans' Own Magazine

The Fantasy Fan November 1933 The Fans' Own Magazine

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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haunted steep by day in search of Barzai the Wise, they found graven in the naked stone of the summit a curious and Cyclopean symbol fifty cubits wide, as if the rock had been riven by some titanic chisel. And the symbol was like to one that learned men have discerned in those frightful parts of the Pnakotic Manuscripts which were too ancient to be read. This they found.

Barzai the Wise they never found, nor could the holy priest Atal ever be persuaded to pray for his soul's repose. Moreover, to this day the people of Ulthar and Nir and Hatheg fear eclipses, and pray by night when pale vapours hide the mountain-top and the moon. And above the mists on Hatheg-Kla, earth's gods sometimes dance reminiscently; for they know they are safe, and love to come from unknown Kadath in ships of cloud and play in the olden way, as they did when earth was new and men not given to the climbing of inaccessible places.

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INFORMATION

If you are puzzled by any fact connected with fantasy fiction, send your questions in to us, and we will do our best to answer them. Any question sent in by you and not answered in this issue was received too late and will appear in our next issue.

STARTLING FACT

Many readers have asked the Editor where they could secure such books as the "Necronomicon," "The Book of Eibon" and other books of medieval sorcery mentioned in the stories of Clark Ashton Smith, H. P. Lovecraft, and other authors of weird tales.

Upon these requests, the Editor wrote to Clark Ashton Smith, inquiring of him whether these books had been translated into English as yet or not, whereupon, Mr. Smith informs us as follows:

"'Necronomicon,' 'Book of Eibon,' etc., I am sorry to say, are all fictitious. Lovecraft invented the first, I the second. Howard, I believe, fathered the German work on the Nameless Cults. It is really too bad that they don't exist as objective, bonafide compilations of the elder and darker Lore! I have been trying to remedy this, in some small measure, by cooking up a whole chapter of Eibon. It is still unfinished, and I am now entitling it 'The Coming of the White Worm'…. This worm mentioned in Eibon is Rlim Shaikorth, and comes from beyond the pole on a strange, gigantic iceberg with a temperature of absolute zero."

We'll bet that most Smith and Lovecraft fans really believed in the existence of these books (as did the editor). A reader informs us that in the July issue of Weird Tales, these books were mentioned in three stories.

This incident only goes to prove that Smith and Lovecraft have the gift of creating the "illusion of reality," the phrase defined in the 1924 Anniversary Number of Weird Tales.

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Urge your friends to subscribe to TFF.

ANNALS OF THE JINNS

by R. H. Barlow

2—The Shadow From Above

A midsummer day in the hamlet of Droom. The villagers went about their various tasks, and within the tiny market-square the spice-vendors and the people from the hills with their exotic burdens of gay fruits created a pleasant hum of busy occupation. Sleeping dogs lay contentedly in the warm sunlight, and the squat beasts of burden ambled about peacefully upon their six clawless paws, their grotesque faces slit with toad-like grins. All was, no one could have denied, entirely calm.

Then one of the dogs lying in a doorway sprang suddenly and omitted a sharp bark. At the same moment a dark cloud apparently obscured the sun. In a short time it had passed unnoticed save for the dog. But his owner—an old crone in a voluminous black hood—peered intently at the clear and vacant sky, and started chattering in an excited tone. Soon the whole population was out of doors looking upwards at that which could not be seen yet which cast a deep shadow. Nothing was to be perceived in the expanse of blue, yet upon the square cobblestones of the quaint little village an irregular black form wavered back and forth. Then it grew larger. Whatever it may have been, it was settling. The people drew back afrightened. Slowly the swinging motion ceased, and the thing drew near. A deep, heavy panting was distinctly audible, much like that of a great beast, and with a dull impact as though it was of great weight, it alighted upon a grassy plot before the Chancellor's house. For a long time it lay there, resting. And still nothing could be seen save the indentation of the grass nor aught heard but the heavy breathing.

Then, to the terror of the white-faced and nervous citizens, it rose on giant feet and tramped down a lane. Thud…. Thud…. Thud…. Thud…. The sound grew monotonous in its deliberation. Before its path lay a sleeping hound. It was lifted as if in a vast claw, and vanished among horrid rending sounds. A single drop of blood flecked the earth…. Its taste momentarily sated, the thing paused and turned.

It took some moments for reason to replace the stark terror of the townsfolk. Then there was a mad and frantic rush for the nearest houses. Those to first gain entrance barred the doors upon their comrades. In a moment the street was apparently bare—save for the unseen monster.

All that afternoon and night it pried at doors, scratched at roofs, muzzled windows and upset fruits-carts inquiringly. But the people of Droom had built well. It did not gain entrance during the night, although few slept, when they heard the constant breathing before their homes, and the dull thumping sounds as it wreaked its malice upon the shops of the marketplace.

It was high noon before any dared unbar their doors and venture forth. Nothing unusual greeted their blanched faces, and silently, apprehensively they stole to their tasks. Soon all activity again commenced.

The horror had gone.

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Come over to "Our Readers Say" and "The Boiling Point" and join in the comment.

THE BOILING POINT

Herewith we continue the Ackerman-Smith debate, which is waxing hot.

"The Ackerman-Smith controversy assumes all the aspects of a mad comedy. To assail and reprehend the writings of Clark Ashton Smith is as preposterous and futile as a dwarf transporting a huge mountain peak upon the tip of his tiny finger. Either Forrest J. Ackerman is daft or an imbecile or a notoriety-seeking clown and knave. Clark Ashton Smith stands alone in the realm of present-day weird and fantastic literature, and, therefore, above all his contemporaries. He is still King: and has yet to be dethrone."—Robert Nelson.

"Personally, I thought that 'The Light From Beyond' was very good, and I saw nothing weird about it. It was fantasy and not stf., but some of the greatest classics of so-called science fiction have been almost pure fantasy. Witness: Merritt's 'Snake Mother' and 'Moon Pool,' and Taine's 'Time Stream.' Ackerman's objections to this were particularly obnoxious to me, as I thought it one of the best stories ever written. Certainly, there should be something more to science fiction than rays, machines, villains, heroines (composed of lipstick and leg, as Mr. Barlow rather bitterly expresses it), as has been stressed so greatly of late. There should be an element of fantasy, strong characters, and a well-developed plot in addition. The lack of those is why so many weird story lovers (like Mr. Barlow) can find so much fault with stf. I do not blame him. I, myself, as a reader, will stop reading stf when the fantasy element is dropped completely." William Crawford.

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