THE PURPLE PARIAH
By BYRON TUSTIN
It was round and purple and awfully, awfully
sad. And it told the most melancholy story Archie
Simms had ever heard. Yup, 'twas a real million-year
tragedy, this tale of the purple pariah.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories March 1954.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The rocket ship whirled down from the sky and crashed into the hillside. A cloud of dust rose lazily from the spot and mingled with the white fumes escaping from the vessel.
The escape hatch opened and Archie Simms jumped down to the surface of the planet.
"Oh-oh, Ed—here's the welcoming committee!" he yelled. Ed Bailey's face appeared in the doorway.
The two men stared grimly at a motionless purple sphere, about eight feet in diameter, that rested fifty feet from the damaged rocket. On the surface of the sphere were two huge, sad eyes that watched the rocket ship with melancholy attention.
"What is it?" asked Ed Bailey.