By Clark Ashton Smith
Released in chronological order, with wide tale and bibliographic notes, this sequence not just offers entry to tales which have been out of print for years, yet supplies them a ancient and social context. sequence editors Scott Conners and Ronald S. Hilger excavated the still-existing manuscripts, letters and numerous released types of the tales, making a definitive "preferred text" for Smith's complete physique of labor. This 3rd quantity of the sequence brings jointly 21 of his myth tales.
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Extra info for A Vintage from Atlantis (The Collected Fantasies of Clark Ashton Smith, Volume 3)
They were dead, they had to be, and the things she had just witnessed were inconceivable. What was the purpose of it all? They had been through so much during the famine. Had they somehow displeased God? Was their suffering to be eternal? A bellowing laugh came from the other side of the field. The sound of a man delighted with his lot. The children giggled and looked at one another, as the laughter continued, unabated. They stood on tiptoe as Elizabeth and Timmy shaded their eyes against the late afternoon sun, trying to make out who it was.
He was afraid to go too near in case they saw him, so only snatches of the conversation reached him. ‘There’s only about an hour’s more digging needed,’ an angry Sean said. ’ There was more muted conversation between the three before, finally, the new arrival walked towards the other workmen. He called them all together and spoke. ‘You all know what’s happened here. We’ve obviously come across an unmarked graveyard. Now, if we report this to the police or local authorities, it could mean weeks of delay, they might even revoke permission to build.
Paddy lowered himself to the ground and began to pray aloud. ’ This was followed with the rosary and many of the men joined in answering. Sean sighed in frustration at these stupid, superstitious fools as he reached down to retrieve a bone lying nearby. A small white hand was laid on top of his own brown weather-beaten one. He tried not to scream as he traced his eyes upwards, along the rag-covered arm, up the neck, towards the face. ’ Timmy’s voice broke the spell, and the man screamed and stumbled back towards the dirt pile.