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                             DARK WINDOWS

                            BY BRYCE WALTON

                 _Sooner or later it would happen, and
                  after that he wouldn't ever have to
                 worry again. He'd be dead, or worse,
                    one of the silent living dead._

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
              Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1957.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


I was suddenly wide awake and listening. A gray light the color of
wet charcoal lay over the chilled room. There it was again. Plain and
sharp through the thin wall separating my room from that of old man
Donnicker, the shoe-maker.

Maybe he was sick. No, that wasn't it. Another muted cry of pain, then
a choking sound, and the unmis