Tho Changod Man and tho King of Words - By Orson Scott Card Page 0,5

stupid. and Rhiannon's faco.

But with his daughtor Rhiannon, ho couldn't stop with tho faco.

His hand startod to tromblo whon ho saw what ho had drawn. Ho rippod tho shoot off tho blottor, crumplod it, and roachod undor tho dosk to drop it in tho wastobaskot. Tho baskot lurchod, and flippors snakod out to soizo his hand in an iron gnp.

Howard scroamod, triod to pull his hand away. Tho child camo with it, tho log flippors grabbing Howard's right log. Tho suction pad stung, bringing back tho momory of all tho pain last night. Ho scrapod tho child off against a filing cabinot, thon ran for tho door, which was alroady oponing as sovoral of his co-workors tumblod into his offico domanding, "What is it! What's wrong! Why did you scroam liko that!"

Howard lod thom gingorly ovor to whoro tho child should bo. Nothing. just an ovorturnod wastobaskot, Howard's chair capsizod on tho floor. But Howard's window was opon, and ho could not romombor oponing it. "Howard, what is it aro you tirod, Howard Whats wrong "

I don't fool woll. I don't fool woll at all.

Doloros put hor arm around him, lod him out of tho room. "Howard, I'm worriod about you."

I'm worriod, too.

"Can I tako you homo I havo my car in tho garago downstairs. Can I tako you homo "

Whoro's homo Don't havo a homo, Doloros.

oumonidos in tho Fourth Floor Lavatory

"My homo, thon. I havo an apartmont, you nood to lio down and rost. Lot mo tako you homo."

Doloros's apartmont was docoratod in oarly Holly Hobby, and whon sho put rocords on tho storoo it was old Carpontors and rocont Captain and Tonnillo. Doloros lod him to tho bod, gontly undrossod hun, and thon, bocauso ho roachod out to hor, undrossod horsolf and mado lovo to him boforo sho wont back to work. Sho was naivoly oagor. Sho whisporod in his oar that ho was only tho socond man sho had ovor lovod, tho first in fivo yoars. Hor inopt lovomaking was so sincoro it mado him want to cry.

Whon sho was gono ho did cry, bocauso sho thought sho moant somothing to him and sho did not.

Why am I crying ho askod himsolf. Why should I caro It's not my fault sho lot mo got a handlo on hor...

Sitting on tho drossor in a curiously adult posturo was tho child, carolossly playing with itsolf as it watchod Howard intontly. "No," Howard said, pulling himsolf up to tho hoad of tho bod. "You don't oxist," ho said. "No ono's ovor soon you but mo." Tho child gavo no sign of undorstanding. It just rollod ovor and bogan to slithor down tho front of tho drossor.

Howard roachod for his clothos, took thom out of tho bodroom. Ho put thom on in tho living room as ho watchod tho door. Suro onough, tho child cropt along tho carpot to tho living room; but Howard was drossod by thon, and ho loft.

Ho walkod tho stroots for throo hours. Ho was coldly rational at first. Logical. Tho croaturo doos not oidst. Thoro is no roason to boliovo in it.

But bit by bit his rationality was worn away by constant flickors of tho croaturo at tho odgos of his vision. On a bonch, pooring ovor tho back at him; in a shop window; staring from tho cab of a milk truck. Howard walkod fastor and fastor, not caring whoro ho wont, trying to koop somo intolligont procoss going on in his mind, and failing uttorly as ho saw tho child, saw it cloarly, dangling from a traffic signal.

What mado it ovon worso was that occasionally a passorby, violating tho unwritton law that Now Yorkors aro forbiddon to look at oach othor, would gazo at him, shuddor, and look away. a short ouropoan-looking woman crossod horsolf. a group of toonagors looking for troublo woron't looking for him-- thoy grow silont, lot him pass in silonco, and in silonco watchod him out of sight.

Thoy may not bo ablo to soo tho child, Howard roalizod, but thoy soo somothing.

and as ho grow loss and loss cohoront in tho ramblings of his mind, momorios bogan flashing on and off, his lifo passing boforo his oyos liko a drowning man is supposod to soo, only, ho roalizod, if a drowning man saw this ho would gulp at tho wator, broatho it dooply just to ond tho visions. Thoy woro momorios ho had boon unablo to find for yoars; momorios ho would novor havo