Fiction Books

Trakor, youthful member of the tribe of Gerdak, moved at a swinging trot along a winding game trail that led to the caves of his people. Through occasional rifts in the matted mazes of branches, leafs, creepers and vines of the semi-tropical forest and jungle, rays of the late afternoon sun dappled the dusty elephant path under his naked feet. His slim young body, clothed only by the pelt of Jalok, the... more...

Chapter 1 In my opinion, it is impossible to create characters until one has spent a long time in studying men, as it is impossible to speak a language until it has been seriously acquired. Not being old enough to invent, I content myself with narrating, and I beg the reader to assure himself of the truth of a story in which all the characters, with the exception of the heroine, are still alive.... more...

en Tilman sat down in the easiest of all easy chairs. He picked up a magazine, flipped pages; stood up, snapped fingers; walked to the view wall, walked back; sat down, picked up the magazine. He was waiting, near the end of the day, after hours, in the lush, plush waiting room—“The customer’s ease is the Sales Manager’s please”—to see the Old Man. He was fidgety, but not about something.... more...

In the village clearing, under the diffuse red sun of Hedlot, Chet Barfield listened intently. Mostly he heard the villagers, the Agvars, noisy with the disregard for sound that comes of defective hearing. But above their clamor was another note. No ... Yes! There it was again—the swish-roar-scream of a spaceship! Chet's heart lifted to the altitude of that ship. Rescue! Rescue was at hand for... more...

The first time this little guy comes in I'm new on the job. He looks around as if he's scared a prohibition agent will pop out of the walls and bite him. Then he gets up his nerve and sidles to the bar. His voice is as thin as the rest of him. "Glass of beer." I draw. He drinks and pays and goes out. That keeps on, Monday through Friday at five-ten p.m., year in and year out. He slips... more...

THE CHILD-WORLD A Child-World, yet a wondrous world no less,To those who knew its boundless happiness.A simple old frame house—eight rooms in all—Set just one side the center of a smallBut very hopeful Indiana town,—The upper-story looking squarely downUpon the main street, and the main highwayFrom East to West,—historic in its day,Known as The National Road—old-timers, allWho linger yet,... more...

HEIRESS AND HEIR They stood high on the Abbey cliff-edge—an old man, eagle-profiled, hawk-beaked, cockatoo-crested, with angry grey eyebrows running peakily upwards towards his temples at either side ... and a boy. They were the Earl Raincy and his grandson Louis—all the world knew them in that country of the Southern Albanach. For Leo Raincy was a great man, and the lad the heir of all he... more...

CHAPTER I ENDURANCE AND ADVENTURE: THE VOYAGE AND LANDING "So they left ye goodly and pleasante citie, which had been ther resting-place near 12 years; but they knew they were pilgrimes, & looked not much on those things, but lift up their eyes to ye heavens, their dearest cuntrie, and quieted their spirits." —Bradford's History of Plymouth Plantations. Chap. VII. December weather in... more...

THE NEED RECOGNIZED FOR A CENTURY. There is a map in the possession of T. P. Thompson of New Orleans, who has a notable collection of books and documents on the early history of this city, dated March 1, 1827, and drawn by Captain W. T. Poussin, topographical engineer, showing the route of a proposed canal to connect the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain, curiously near the site finally chosen... more...

The Sand-hills of Jutland. his is a story from the Jutland sand-hills, but it does not commence there; on the contrary, it commences far away towards the south, in Spain. The sea is the highway between the two countries. Fancy yourself there. The scenery is beautiful; the climate is warm. There blooms the scarlet pomegranate amidst the dark laurel trees; from the hills a refreshing breeze is wafted... more...