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Phantagraph, v. 4, issue 4, July 1936
Page 2
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Page 2 The Phantagraph Lost Excerpts By Robert Nelson III. The Flinging of the Rocks He stood upon the precipice of the world, laughing wildly and flinging golden rocks of happiness upon the mountains, valleys, and seas below. The hoary mountains were crowned with gold and quaked in glee; the manifold valleys shook their bosoms and babbled in joyousness; the heaving seas shone with the golden blood of the bursting rocks. The laughing winds screamed about him and perished in the golden mist far beneath. He stood on golden feet; and golden blood sped through his veins. In endless perpetuation he hurled the rocks of golden happiness until they all flowed in one mighty stream, and men knew not where it began nor where it ceased. And he defied both heaven and hell to halt him. His words were almighty cannons of universe-splitting bombardment, crashing levin-flashes that turned the eye to stone, the soul to everlasting darkness. His curses mingled with the golden torrent, and the rocks became happier. They made the sun to dribble hot tears of golden gladness, and spattered upon the sullen moon a flushed gold, so that it turned more swiftly, letting men see its other side for the first time. Then they slew each other in city and on plain in mad jubilation. And the dead rose to die again with grim laughter stamped on their skulls. Blue flowers were sprinkle with the powder of the dead, and drank the blood of the dying and turned golden. On and on came the rocks. They whirled in the cosmic dust and burned in a million worlds.
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Page 2 The Phantagraph Lost Excerpts By Robert Nelson III. The Flinging of the Rocks He stood upon the precipice of the world, laughing wildly and flinging golden rocks of happiness upon the mountains, valleys, and seas below. The hoary mountains were crowned with gold and quaked in glee; the manifold valleys shook their bosoms and babbled in joyousness; the heaving seas shone with the golden blood of the bursting rocks. The laughing winds screamed about him and perished in the golden mist far beneath. He stood on golden feet; and golden blood sped through his veins. In endless perpetuation he hurled the rocks of golden happiness until they all flowed in one mighty stream, and men knew not where it began nor where it ceased. And he defied both heaven and hell to halt him. His words were almighty cannons of universe-splitting bombardment, crashing levin-flashes that turned the eye to stone, the soul to everlasting darkness. His curses mingled with the golden torrent, and the rocks became happier. They made the sun to dribble hot tears of golden gladness, and spattered upon the sullen moon a flushed gold, so that it turned more swiftly, letting men see its other side for the first time. Then they slew each other in city and on plain in mad jubilation. And the dead rose to die again with grim laughter stamped on their skulls. Blue flowers were sprinkle with the powder of the dead, and drank the blood of the dying and turned golden. On and on came the rocks. They whirled in the cosmic dust and burned in a million worlds.
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