Summer 1966 – A New Dust Jacket Changes Not the Story’s Course

 

The bandaged figure turned. I could not tell if the being was male or female. It had curves in areas that suggested femininity but the additional bulges where none were usually present on either a man or a woman kept me from feeling certain of my impressions.

It stepped out of the shadows and I found myself holding my breath in horror. It glistened. Its wrappings were soaked through, wet with fluids red, yellow and sickly green. It took another step forward and this time I registered the spongy sound as it put weight on its foot.