Illustration Commons^™

Dahling, John R. Thomson

Manuscripts

"I never saw it to fail. Every time we go out, you see Addison Carter and have to run over and lick his hand. I just can't understand why you tag after him like Mary's lamb. Listen, Harry, if he were going to throw any business your way, he would have wound up for the pitch by now. Without too much reflective thought, I can rather easily recall that the only gift he has bestowed upon you was the flu at the lake in 1945.

Intrusion And Reaction, Frank Slupesky

Manuscripts

George bent his broad back and leaned against the rail. He surveyed the ocean passing a few yards beneath. Funny how the ship passing through the blue water, churned it into a white foam. Then, how the foam reverted to its original shade-but not abruptly; first it was emerald, then green, then turquoise, then blue again. It occurred to George that he was witnessing a cycle which, though brief, was perhaps beautiful.

L'Apres Midi D'Une..., Allyn Wood

Manuscripts

A picnic was spread on the bank and they surrounded it in positions of spiritual abandon. One, a long and somewhat undulant girl, lay among them gazing into the river that rolled peacefully yet dense with clay after the spring flood. The opposite bank, mysterious as an arabesque, hid in its shadow-work of trees the lives that like theirs, had moved back from afternoon; lives bound to the waterway by probing beak and wading leg, by a diet of fish or of insects Whose larval time is passed in mud and water. Look closely! implied the arabesque: a leaf may …

Lost Cause, Margaret Lanahan

Manuscripts

The afternoon was bright and warm. Sunlight dappled the ground under the mulberry trees in the backyard. The sharp tang of paint coupled with the balm of fresh cut wood hung on the air contrasting with the smell of baking cupcakes which filtered every now and then from the kitchen door of the house where Tubby lived.

Front Matter

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Volume 15, Issue 4: Full Text

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Poems, Roland Crim, Basil Raymond

Manuscripts

Adrift by, Roland Crim and An Apology for Loving by, Basil Raymond.

The Price Of Victory, Lee Lovell

Manuscripts

It was early in the fourth round; I measured it by the four swallows of whisky taken from the half empty pint of "Old Grandad" nestling against the palm of my left hand. The whisky produced a warm sensation that loosened my tongue, causing me to yell as did the rest of the wild beasts around me. Urged on by the mastery of alcohol, all the savageness of primitive man overshadowed the culture of civilization; and I felt the supremacy of the conqueror ruthlessly beating his victim. Each of his blows became my own; each smack of his fist slamming …

How Green, Russell Foster

Manuscripts

Eons ago when the government was donating an existence to me as payment for a few negligible risks, I lounged about and zig-zagged the Atlantic six or eight times aboard a tired old Liberty ship named in honor of Buffalo Bill Cody. Now Bill may have been a smooth-riding, fast-shooting pioneer-not so his namesake. She couldn't push ten knots burning mattresses; nevertheless, she attracted the elite.

Democracy Of Art, Arnold Wajenberg

Manuscripts

Many people today, both artists and laymen, believe that art is essentially aristocratic. Some artists admit readily that their work is not for the "masses." The "masses," on the other hand, often regard art as something strange and dull, reserved for eccentrics who live in an imaginative half-world of their own. Usually the artists who boast that their work is for the upper two percent will also add that "the common man" is incapable of appreciating "real art." This gives rise to the question of what "real art" is.

"The Listeners"-Misinterpreted, Jim Pappas

Manuscripts

Once upon a time, the editor of a metropolitan daily newspaper sent out three journalists to bring back a story...

I Wonder And The Reason, Diana Harvey

Manuscripts

The whole day is in a minor key and colored gray. I sit on a high cliff with my back against a tree-gazing at the sky and the water-trying to make myself a part of their tranquillity. Up above is the skyspread with a thick layer of gray clouds; it hangs low over the earth. Beneath lies the water-endless rows of small waves, pinched into shape and pushed to shore by the slow wind. The trees, too, are playthings of the wind; it uses their stark, black branches as strings and strums long sad chords upon them. I am calmed …

Soul Incarnate, Roland Crim

Manuscripts

It would come. It would spread its inky blackness before me,

dark as any night.

So I prayed to God to give me light to see it, strength to fight

The unexplainable fear of the unknown...

Patience, Patrick J. Mahoney Iii

Manuscripts

...It may take a long time before they make a move now, but I'll wait. Hell, I've got nothing else to do; and besides, I've got patience.

Europe's Forgotten Children, Arlean Lemke

Manuscripts

Upon my arrival in Europe, one year after the war had ended, I found the people busily clearing away the wreckage and rebuilding the damaged structures. The reconstruction of the ravaged cities was being carried on with great rapidity; but, in their preoccupation, people overlooked the millions of children who were orphaned or deserted. Left to shift for themselves in a world of hunger, misery and squalor-and deprived of human care-these children wander aimlessly about the streets, begging or stealing. They have lost all sense of security, morals and decency.

Fate???, Carlton Bowles

Manuscripts

A few days ago I ran into an old friend of mine, whom we can call Judge Smith. I had not seen the Judge for several years, but it was apparent to me that in that time he had aged rapidly-almost too rapidly for a man of his good health. When I questioned him on this point, he invited me to lunch and during the meal told me a very interesting story.

The Question, Richard H. Owens

Manuscripts

He stood beside his car with one foot resting on the rear tire. A crowd of people were gathered around him looking curiously into his face. They asked questions that he answered automatically - not giving the answers any thought because he had heard them over and over again from people who were trying to form a possible story. They wanted a little personal touch to add in case they got the chance to tell about an ex-midget race driver with whom they had had a little chat once. He did not look at anyone's eyes particularly, but he knew …

A Most Charitable Man, Dick Cassidy

Manuscripts

Phillip' Kingsley was a banker and looked the part. He was a typical example of the sort of man people expect to be president of a bank. His carefully shined shoes, conservative clothes and distinguished manner were complemented by his slightly greying temples and pale blue eyes. When he spoke, he did so in carefully selected sentences, making use of his wide vocabulary. A popular man, he was noted for his friendliness to the local townspeople and for the fact that he could be seen at any time to discuss a loan for a new silo or an additional building …

Rainy Season, George Fullen

Manuscripts

It was a gloomy, drenched day. The sky was darkening imperceptibly but steadily, obscuring the view from the very small mess hall which huddled in the middle of a muddy waste. The only thing which identified it as a mess hall was the presence of the two soldiers who were sitting over their coffee. To them, it was weather of a monotonous sadness which seemed to have settled upon them, branding them permanently.

Variations On A Theme By Candide, Frank Slupesky

Manuscripts

"The United States, best of all possible countries," is the conviction of most nonthinking, yet sincere Americans. Was our government not formed by people who rebelled against the despotism of Europe? Was our Constitution not formed to give equality and self-government to the citizens of America? Did we not fight a civil war to insure equality? Have we not always been a humane nation? Were we not too generous in donating millions to the Japanese earthquake relief, just to turn around and have them "stab us in the back" at Pearl Harbor? Have we not more radios, telephones, automobiles, washing …