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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.
RGL e-Book Cover
Based on an image created with Microsoft Bing software
Fantastic Adventures, May 1948, with "My World Died Tonight"
Bobby knelt beside the open window, and as he
pointed, the ring on his finger shimmered...
The world was a sad place for Bobby—but that
was because his own world was far from Earth...
BOBBY WALTER stood, very stiff and frightened, before Miss Long's desk. He stared straight into her deep, violet eyes with his timid brown ones. He seemed so sincere that strictness was a difficult trait for Jean Long to practice at this moment.
"But, Bobby," she pleaded, "I've warned you so often. You must stop telling your friends these wild, unbelievable stories. Your friends don't understand that it's just imagination. They think you lie to show off before them."
A suspicion of moisture appeared in Bobby's eyes. His small fists were clenched. His body was rigid and unbending.
"They're not lies. Nothing I say is a lie."
Miss Long wasn't really angry. She had told herself for a long time that this talk was necessary. Now it was growing very involved, and she wished she could skip the whole thing. Perhaps she should have written a note to Bobby's father.
"Miss Long?"
She had almost forgotten that he was still standing there.
"Yes, Bobby?"
Her voice was almost a sigh. She knew that she could never be stern with him, but was losing the battle. He kept shifting from one foot to the other. She'd have to kiss that freckled nose in another minute.
"Miss Long, do you think I tell lies?"
That question meant so much. The wrong answer would break his heart. She was aware of the small boy's worship of her. She couldn't hurt him.
"I—I," she paused; staring past him at the blackboard. "Bobby, I don't know what to think. Would it help if you and I talked with your father? Would he understand?"
Bobby's eyes brightened. He took a hesitant step closer, then hesitated, feeling the gulf between teacher and student. He smiled.
"Daddy Jim—mad? Gosh no, he's never angry at me. I'd like for you to talk with him.' He's not like—Mr. Black. He's nice and gentle—like you."
If his father was anything like the boy, she thought, I'd never have a chance with either of them. She blushed prettily at the thought. It was—well—just that you felt better with your arm about Bobby, talking to him as a mother should talk.
"We'll talk with your father, then," she said. "I'll write him a note."
JIM WALTER came in late. He found Bobby, busy with the
scissors, sitting by the kitchen table. The boy had designed a
world of planets and stars, cut from silver and mounted on a
large sheet of blue paper. He dropped his things when Jim came in
and locked his arms solidly around his father's neck. Some ten
minutes of important news passed between them before Miss Long's
note was produced for Jim's inspection.
Jim Walter stretched out in his favorite wing-backed chair, lighted his pipe and waited for Bobby to find his frayed slippers. Then he opened the note and read:
Dear Mr. Walter:
We have a problem, Bobby and I, Bobby has a wonderful imagination, but he speaks too freely of his thoughts before other children. Without understanding, they have branded him a liar. That word is doing a great deal of harm to your boy. Bobby has consented to a talk with you and feels that you will understand. Will you set a date?
Cordially,
Jean L. Long.
Jim Walter rested his hand, with the note in it, on the arm of the chair. He stared solemnly at Bobby.
"The story of the stars and the planets, Bobby?"
Bobby gulped. He nodded. "We agreed that the story was to be our secret, didn't we, Bob?"
Bobby nodded again. He crossed the room and sat at his father's feet, on the carpet. He rested his head against the man's knees.
"I keep thinking all the time," he said miserably. "I—I just can't stop thinking. Seems like I have to tell people. Then they say I'm crazy, and I'm a liar. That makes it worse."
They sat quietly for a long time. Walter puffed slowly at his pipe, his left hand resting lightly on the boy's head. He wanted the kid to get the best of everything. Bobby wasn't like other kids. He wasn't just kidding himself there. Smart, he was. Smart as a fifteen-year-old. His problems at times approached the adult stage. His brain was a fine thing—active and mature.
You couldn't push Bobby around. You had to understand him, and most people didn't. Sometimes Jim Walter wasn't entirely sure that he did.
"I guess we better have a talk with your teacher, hadn't we?"
The boy's head moved slightly.
"I guess."
His voice sounded faint and very far away.
MISS LONG brought a plate of cookies and some tall glasses of
lemonade. She tried not to notice how tall and good looking Jim
Walter was. She pretended also not to see how he was dressed a
little more neatly than the average man, and that he treated her
with a fine respect that so often was lacking. Her apartment was
neat and comfortable. The little party was going along
nicely.
Between, bites on a sugar cookie, Bobby tried to tell her why he and his father didn't look alike.
"Because he's really not my Daddy," he said. "Not from the beginning. That's why my hair is so light and his so dark."
Jim Walter nodded, smiling a little.
"But I've been 'dopted so long, be's just like a real Daddy," Bobby hastened to add.
Jean Long, without any reason to rush around longer, sat down near Bobby.
"I'm sure that he's a fine father," she said, and put so much sincerity into her words that the speech left her a little embarrassed.
"Bob and I get along swell," Jim said. "Bob's a pretty good boy most of the time."
His eyes were on the girl's face. They "had been there for a long time now. He was watching the calm, deep violet eyes, the small, oval face that he had already decided was the prettiest he had ever seen. No wonder the boy worshipped his teacher. It wouldn't be hard.
"I wonder," he said absently, "if I may smoke? Some people don't approve."
She was on her feet instantly, bringing him an ash tray from the kitchen. She brought a handful of matches. Men always burned more matches than they did tobacco.
"I like people to be comfortable here," she said. "Life is lots more fun when the rules aren't too strict."
They avoided the subject of Bobby's stories for a long time. The cookies were finally gone and it was nearly time to leave. It had been time to go for hours, Jim Walter thought. He was relaxed and comfortable. Pipe smoke wove sleepy patterns against the low ceiling. Jean Long's eyes were growing a trifle misty.
"About Bobby," Jim said abruptly. "What's the big problem at school?"
She shrugged.
"You won't report me to the school board?"
He chuckled. "Never."
THE three of them were very happy just then. Happier, perhaps,
than the occasion warranted.
"Then I'll confess that Mr. Black, the principal, is rather set in his ways. He comes from the spare the rod and spoil the child school. Bobby has been telling some rather fanciful stories; and Mr. Black brands him as a deliberate liar and a boy who is willfully hurting the morale of the other students. . He says it's bad for the children, and something will have to be done to stop it at once."
Jim Walter nodded slowly. He frowned and removed the pipe from his lips.
"Bobby has some very interesting things to tell about the stars and planets. He has, shall we call it, a recurring nightmare. I suppose he's told you?"
Jean Long's eyes widened a trifle.
"I haven't heard any of his stories. Bobby has never talked with me about them."
Jim Walter was surprised.
".Bobby, have you been neglecting Miss Long? I'd think you'd like to tell her about your world?"
Bobby turned a trifle red.
"I—thought she'd laugh at me. I didn't want her to laugh."
Jim Walter winked solemnly at Jean Long.
"I'm sure she wouldn't laugh."
Jean shook her head.
"Oh! I wouldn't. I want to hear about your dream."
Bobby sighed. He looked very sad.
"It's about my first home, on the magic star," he said hesitantly.
The girl shot a puzzled glance at the boy's father, but his eyes silenced her.
"Yes, Bobby?"
The room was very quiet. Bobby Walter's voice filled it with tense, excited words.
"I haven't always lived with Daddy Jim. I lived in my own world."
His eyes stared deep into his teacher's.
"My real father and mother are in my other world. It's—a long, long distance from here. I'll show you, if you want!"
His father's voice interrupted quietly.
"Tell the story first, Bobby."
The boy seemed a trifle disappointed.
"I can't tell all the story. It would take years and years. It's all about my world, where the buildings are tall and sparkling and you can see right into them. My world is all colored and sparkling in the sun and made of dream stuff, and—and Mother and Daddy used to take me to the Park of Kings and for rides on the Avenue of Transparency."
Jean Long's eyes sought Jim Walter's. What madness was this? She had never dreamed....
The boy was talking again, and he held her spellbound.
"It was a very wonderful place, where it was never cold and the houses were heated by the sun."
He stopped speaking abruptly, and the room was hushed. His head bowed forward. When he looked up again, there were tears in his eyes.
"I had to leave my world."
"Why—Bobby? Why did you leave?"
He stared at her earnestly.
"Daddy said the dream star was going to be destroyed. He said I must come to earth because earth was going to live on for millions of years. He said I would find someone here who would love me and take care of me."
"You did find someone, didn't you?"
She stared at Jim Walter, almost believing.
The boy went to his father and sat on his knee.
"Now—can I show her my world?"
THE three of them stood on the front porch, and the boy
pointed to a bright, sparkling star in the depths of the black
western sky. The night was so still that not a tree moved. The
Heavens were bright with a harvest moon and covered by a dream
pattern of stars.
"That's my world," the boy said softly, and pointed toward the star. "It—it will die soon. My Daddy told me to watch the ring for his signal."
Jim Walter said quietly.
"The boy was found a long way from town, an infant, lying in the grass by the side of the road. The nigh was warm, late in June. He was about two years old, and without any clothing. The ring was on his finger—a huge, perfectly-cut stone. It seems to be a diamond."
Jean Long shivered. The night seemed suddenly very cold and frightening. Her own voice seemed queer and far away as she spoke.
"I never dreamed of anything like this. I'll—try harder to understand. We'll work it all out somehow."
"I want you to see the ring," Jim said. "I've had it examined by experts. They say that there's an odd thing about it. It's harder than any diamond they ever saw. It's clearer, without a flaw." Bobby held out his hand.
"See?"
She looked down into the pure well of the ring, holding his small hand in hers. It startled her, for in the reflection of the moon, the stone might have been that single star that shone bravely in the west. It sparkled back at her, mysterious and powerful.
It couldn't be true. Not any of it. Still, she recognized that she now shared a deep, sincere secret between the boy and his adopted father. A secret that she held sacred.
JEAN LONG liked giving Bobby special work at home. She liked
the smell of tobacco and clean soap that filled Jim Walter's
rooms. It was late and she put her books aside and watched Bobby
go up to bed. He stopped on the stairs and looked back at her.
His eyes were frightened, as a fawn's eyes are frightened when
you startle him in a wood thicket.
She smiled at him.
"Good-night, Bobby."
"Good-night," he said, then. "Miss Long, you don't think I was telling lies any more?"
She was very sincere in her reply.
"You'd never lie to anyone, Bobby. I believe that every word you say, you're sincere about."
He looked quite content, now, his back to her, trudging up the steps.
Jim Walter spoke from the doorway.
"I like you for that. There's no harm in white lies, when they make the boy feel at rest. He wouldn't lie purposely."
She turned, smiling up at him from her chair.
"I wouldn't have promised to give Bobby private instructions unless I thought it would be worth the trouble. He's a grand kid. He'll outgrow those little fairy tales, and be a better boy for it."
Jim Walter looked suddenly stern.
"I hope you feel at home here evenings. I try to stay out of the way while you and Bobby are at work."
She gathered her books hurriedly and pushed them into her leather case.
"You don't bother us at all," she said, her face averted. "It's—sort of like home here."
Her face felt very warm and uncomfortable.
Half way across the room, they met. He smiled down at her, noticing for the hundredth time in these past two months, how soft her hair—how warm her eyes. She tried to speak.
"Jim."
"I won't say a word that I don't mean sincerely."
"Jim."
She melted against him. "Jim—I guess I love...."
She was bewildered.
"And I," he answered softly. He kissed her.
THEY both heard Bobby cry out. It was a soft, frightened cry.
The girl reached the stairs ahead of Jim Walter. They went up
together, and he threw open the door to the boy's room.
Bobby was on his knees, elbows resting on the window sill. He was staring toward the western sky, toward the mysterious star. He turned wide, frightened eyes upon them.
"Daddy Jim, I couldn't sleep. Something awful is going to happen. I'm all tied up in here."
He put his hand over his heart.
They reached his side and Jim sank down at the boy's side.
"Bobby, for the love of Heaven, what's wrong with you?"
Then they saw. They all saw, and without speaking, stared out the window toward the star. It lost its place in the black velvet sky and plunged suddenly out of its orbit, shooting wildly across the sky. Bobby's voice lined in a sob and the girl, standing behind them, caught her breath and released it in a sigh. The star turned a brilliant red, seemed to burst into flame and then the sky was dark again.
No one spoke.
Bobby's voice came after long seconds, firm and steady, but filled with awful horror.
"My world died tonight?"
JEAN LONG sat alone in the living room. Jim hadn't come down yet, and it had been half an hour since she left them alone in the dark room upstairs.
She heard footsteps on the stairs and looked questioningly at him as he came into the room. Jim Walter walked past her to the window, and as though be hadn't noticed her presence, opened the door and stared out into the night. Neither of them spoke. He closed the door after a time, and came to her. He sat on the arm of the chair and put his hand on her shoulder. His fingers, were cold as ice.
She had to speak, to say something. Her voice was weak and very shaky.
"Jim—it couldn't actually happen, could it?"
"I don't know."
She shivered.
"Jim—we don't really see stars fall. We, see the light that they made millions of years ago. That star we saw tonight—must have fallen a long time before any of us were born."
His finger tightened on her shoulder. He held his pipe in his free hand, the ashes long since cold.
"Bobby will be all right," he said, as though he hadn't heard. "He's sleeping now. He's resting well for the first time in months."
"There's no use kidding ourselves, is there, Jim?"
She knew he understood what she meant, because he stood up suddenly, straight and tall, and swore softly.
"Theories and science be damned," he said bitterly. "You can't discard anything like this from your mind."
"The ring?" She asked.
He nodded.
"Yes, the ring. Let them tell you we don't see a star fall. We saw it fall, and we know that both of us have a rare duty to perform. The boy is more than a son. He's been placed in our trust."
"I saw the ring before I came down," she said haltingly. "It frightened me. I didn't want to stay, not as long as you were with him."
A shudder traveled over Jim Walter's body.
"A star dies, and turns to flaming red. A diamond, white as that star had been, turns a bloody, significant scarlet. Jean, we can't ignore that. We can't call that the product of a child's imagination."
She arose and went to his side. In his arms, she felt safer, and warm once more.
"Bobby's world died tonight," she said softly. "We'll have to make this new world a fine, safe place for him to live."
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.