For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

Underneath the Uncivilized Darkness
by Dorothy von Longfellow

   Waiting alone in the full knowledge that her fate was now sealed, with the incarnadine shouts of the street hawkers wafting in from outside, the wholly heartbroken Lexington thought once more of tall Trader Michael, the brilliant scholar who had wanted to make her his life’s work. He was now, according to persistent rumours, the hapless captive of mind-devouring space aliens.
   Suddenly, came the sound of her own name being called, and she rose to face the inevitable. He was here! “Come to me, you who make my life complete!” he husked in that nigh-subsonic basso profundo of his which had caused so much trouble during their honeymoon at the glassworks.
   Only in this moment of extremity could it have happened that the band began to play, and as the horror of these last months vanished in a blaze of joy, she at last understood that for the two of them, life was only now really beginning.

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