What Would A Mohammedan Vampire

That Which You Believe Becomes Your World

In A World Of Monotonous Horror There Could Be No Salvation In Wild Dreaming. Horror He Had Adjusted To. But Monotony Was The Greater Obstacle, And He Realized It Now, Understood It At Long Last. And Understanding It Seemed To Give Him A Sort Of Quiet Peace, A Sense Of Having Spread All The Cards On His Mental Table, Examined Them, And Settled Conclusively On The Desired Hand.

In A Typical Desperation For Quick Answers, Easily Understood, People Had Turned To Primitive Worship As The Solution. With Less Than Success. Not Only Had They Died As Quickly As The Rest Of The People, But They Had Died With Terror In Their Hearts, With A Mortal Dread Flowing In Their Very Veins.

I Hate It When Something I've Had Published "inspires" Some Nut To Imitate What I've Written, Or Some Teacher Gets Fired For Having Her Students Read One Of My Stories Or Novels.

He Stood There For A Moment Looking Around The Silent Room, Shaking His Head Slowly. All These Books, He Thought, The Residue Of A Planet’s Intellect, The Scrapings Of Futile Minds, The Leftovers, The Potpourri Of Artifacts That Had No Power To Save Men From Perishing.