The best short stories of 1921, and the yearbook of the American short story
General
The best short stories of 1921, and the yearbook of the American short story
American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories -- 20th century -- Bibliography; Short stories -- 20th century -- Indexes; Short stories, American
"When we looked over the broken wall and saw that stone lizard, we had
another shock. I don't care how you school yourself, there's a scare in
every man. That's what annoys me, to see men posing and letting
themselves be written up and speechified over as fearless. Fearless
General this and Admiral that. Our fearless boys in the trenches. It
sickens me. Why the whole race has been fed up on fear for ages.
Fearlessness is impossible. Hell-fire, boogermen, devils, witches, the
wrath of God--it's all been fear. Things that we know nothing of and
have no proof of have been added to things that we do know of that will
hurt, and, on top of that there has been the everlasting 'cuidado' lest
you say a word that will run foul of current opinion--so what wonder
that man is scary? It's a wonder that he's sane.
"After we took that picture we debated for the first time where we
should camp that night. A new scare possessed us. In the end, we decided
to camp inside the temple because of the greater security afforded by
the walls. The truth is that some half fear of a giant lizard had gotten
hold of us. So, as it was the lizard that scared us, we decided to stay
in the lizard temple. Man's built that way. He likes to keep close to
the thing that he fears. I heard a man who was a banker once say that he
always mistrusted the man who would not take a vacation. As I take it,
his idea was that the man who knew some danger was nigh, wanted to be
around where he could catch the first intimation of a crash. But then,
too, besides that, there is a sense of comfort in being within walls,
especially with a floor paved as this one was. Besides, it was a change
from the trees with their wild-tangled vines and their snake-like
lianas. So we decided on the temple.
"That night I was a long time getting to sleep. The memory of the old
hag and the bull-roarer was in my mind. I kept thinking of Ista, too. It
was a warmer night than usual, and, after the moon dropped, pitchy dark.
I slept stripped as I generally do, with a light blanket across my legs
so that I could find it if needed without waking up.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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