Aging -- Fiction; Life on other planets -- Fiction; Science fiction
THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT
By RAY BRADBURY
Mad, impossible world! Sun-blasted by day,
cold-wracked by night--and life condensed by
radiation into eight days! Sim eyed the
Ship--if he only dared reach it and
escape! ... but it was more than half an
hour distant--the limit of life itself!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1946.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
During the night, Sim was born. He lay wailing upon the cold cave
stones. His blood beat through him a thousand pulses each minute. He
grew, steadily.
Into his mouth his mother with feverish hands put the food. The
nightmare of living was begun. Almost instantly at birth his eyes grew
alert, and then, without half understanding why, filled with bright,
insistent terror. He gagged upon the food, choked and wailed. He looked
about, blindly.
There was a thick fog. It cleared. The outlines of the cave appeared.
And a man loomed up, insane and wild and terrible. A man with a dying
face. Old, withered by winds, baked like adobe in the heat. The man was
crouched in a far corner of the cave, his eyes whitening to one side of
his face, listening to the far wind trumpeting up above on the frozen
night planet.
Sim's mother, trembling, now and again, staring at the man, fed Sim
pebble-fruits, valley-grasses and ice-nipples broken from the cavern
entrances, and eating, eliminating, eating again, he grew larger,
larger.
The man in the corner of the cave was his father! The man's eyes were
all that was alive in his face. He held a crude stone dagger in his
withered hands and his jaw hung loose and senseless.
Then, with a widening focus, Sim saw the old people sitting in the
tunnel beyond this living quarter. And as he watched, they began to die.
Their agonies filled the cave. They melted like waxen images, their
faces collapsed inward on their sharp bones, their teeth protruded. One
minute their faces were mature, fairly smooth, alive, electric. The
next minute a desiccation and burning away of their flesh occurred.
Sim thrashed in his mother's grasp. She held him. "No, no," she soothed
him, quietly, earnestly, looking to see if this, too, would cause her
husband to rise again.
With a soft swift padding of naked feet, Sim's father ran across the
cave. Sim's mother screamed. Sim felt himself torn loose from her
grasp. He fell upon the stones, rolling, shrieking with his new, moist
lungs!
[Illustration: _With a soft padding of naked feet Sim's father ran
across the cave._]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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