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    The Man the Martians Made
    The Man the Martians Made
    The Man the Martians Made
    Ebook48 pages38 minutes

    The Man the Martians Made

    By Frank Belknap Long

    ()

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    The Man the Martians Made
    Author

    Frank Belknap Long

    Frank Belknap Long Jr. (April 27, 1901 – January 3, 1994) was an American writer of horror fiction, fantasy, science fiction, poetry, gothic romance, comic books, and non-fiction. Though his writing career spanned seven decades, he is best known for his horror and science fiction short stories, including contributions to the Cthulhu Mythos alongside his friend, H. P. Lovecraft. During his life, Long received the World Fantasy Award for Life Achievement (at the 1978 World Fantasy Convention), the Bram Stoker Award for Lifetime Achievement (in 1987, from the Horror Writers Association), and the First Fandom Hall of Fame Award (1977).

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      Book preview

      The Man the Martians Made - Frank Belknap Long

      Project Gutenberg's The Man the Martians Made, by Frank Belknap Long

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: The Man the Martians Made

      Author: Frank Belknap Long

      Release Date: July 17, 2009 [EBook #29432]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN THE MARTIANS MADE ***

      Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online

      Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      If Frank Belknap Long is not one of the deans of science fiction writers, there can certainly be no dispute that he is high on the faculty board. His pen is indefatigable, it seems, and his characters come alive as with few other writers. We're sure you'll like this new suspenseful tale of his.

      the

      man

      the

      martians

      made

      by ... Frank Belknap Long

      No mortal had ever seen the Martians, but they had heard their whisperings—without knowing the terrible secret they kept hidden.

      There was death in the camp.

      I knew when I awoke that it had come to stand with us in the night and was waiting now for the day to break and flood the desert with light. There was a prickling at the base of my scalp and I was drenched with cold sweat.

      I had an impulse to leap up and go stumbling about in the darkness. But I disciplined myself. I crossed my arms and waited for the sky to grow bright.

      Daybreak on Mars is like nothing you've ever dreamed about. You wake up in the morning, and there it is—bright and clear and shining. You pinch yourself, you sit up straight, but it doesn't vanish.

      Then you stare at your hands with the big callouses. You reach for a mirror to take a look at your face. That's not so good. That's where ugliness enters the picture. You look around and you see Ralph. You see Harry. You see the women.

      On Earth a woman may not look her glamorous best in the harsh light of early dawn, but if she's really beautiful she doesn't look too bad. On Mars even the most beautiful woman looks angry on arising, too weary and tormented by human shortcomings to take a prefabricated metal shack and turn it into a real home for a man.

      You have to make allowances for a lot of things on Mars. You have to start right off by accepting hardship and privation as your daily lot. You have to get accustomed to living in construction camps in the desert, with the red dust making you feel all hollow and dried up inside. Making you feel like a drum, a shriveled pea pod, a salted fish hung up to dry. Dust inside of you, rattling around, canal water seepage rotting the soles of your boots.

      So you wake up and you stare. The night before you'd collected driftwood and stacked it by the fire. The driftwood has disappeared. Someone has stolen your very precious driftwood. The Martians? Guess again.

      You get up

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