“This has to be the place that I had heard of”, he thought; as he drove back the long lane to the old run-down house off Old Mill Road.

The weeds had grown tall in the middle of the dirt lane, making him feel curious and anxious. When he got out of his car, the late summer heat was stifling for so early in the day.

About that time, the front door creaked open and out onto the porch came an older man with unkempt hair and disheveled clothes accompanied by a mangy looking dog with shifty eyes and low growls.

Wondering if taking off work today to find this place was such a good idea now, his curiosity was still his most faithful companion. He cleared his throat to speak (which made the dog growl) he said “Sir, I was told that you had old magazines that you might sell.” The old man looked down at the still growling dog “Be quiet Elron.” Looking back up he said “Yeah, I got some, you can come in and look.”

Upon entering the house and easing around the dog he was astounded at what he saw. There were boxes, stacks and piles of old books and magazines. His sinuses were assaulted by the various smells of bad living, old paper, and dirty dog. There by the dog’s food bowl was a large bone, was it human? And the bowl was setting on top of a 1950’s Planet Stories pulp magazine. Pointing at the magazine he asked “Do you have any more of these?”

“Yep,” replied the old man, “Down in the basement.” After moving some boxes of books, another door opened and a light came on that let him see even more magazines. As he descended the creaky old stairs, the old man said, “Those ones you’re looking for are over in that corner. I’ll close the door so Elron won’t bother you.” At that, the door at the top of the stairs closed and latched.

As he looked around at the stacks of ephemera, taller than his head, he thought “Did I just get locked down here? Am I going to see the bodies of other collectors?”

And then he saw them! A couple of yards and several hundred magazines away there they were! Stacks and stacks of old pulp fictions. 1930’s Doc Savages, Planet Stories, Weird Science, and The Shadow all stacked before him. Trying to maneuver to get to them, would be the challenge. There were no aisles in this dank old basement temple of lost pulp fiction.

He turned quickly and caused a seven foot high stack of old Playboy, Swank, and Hustler magazines to start to teeter! “Oh God, Please don’t’ let THESE magazines fall over and trap me! How would I ever live it down? What would my wife say?”

Suddenly he realized, this temple is booby trapped! “I’ve got to think smart. Its getting hotter by the minute down here. I smell hot electrical wiring. Okay stay calm, wipe off the sweat. Think Now, what would Indiana Jones do?”

He began to systematically overcome each perceived booby trap until finally he was there, the stacks stood before him, floor to ceiling.

As he went through as many as he could, he saw it, The Holy Grail of Pulp Fictions. He had heard about it, but had never seen one, and yet here it was, stuck in between another pile, just barely within reach of his fingertips. His heart pounding he thought, “Should I try to pull it out and take the chance of tearing that beautiful cover? I can’t reach that stack, but I can reach that beautiful rare one hanging out of the stack. If I tear it, it’s ruined, but I can’t leave it!” As he stopped to wipe the sweat from his face, he noticed a dusty old mirror hanging on the wall and he was sure he saw Indiana Jones looking back at him saying, “Go for it, I would!”

He reached as far as he could and got the corner of it, as a spider dropped down on his hand and he yanked back. Hearing paper tearing, he could hardly look at what he had done. When he looked down, there was that precious 1930’s pulp fiction, complete, un-torn, and perfect. He looked back at the stack and the one above it had sacrificed itself to let this one go free!

As he looked back at the dusty mirror, he saw Indiana Jones smile and tip his Fedora in approval.

He was hot and exhausted and it would take him another half hour to get back to the stairs carrying his precious gem that this lost temple had allowed him to keep.

At the top of the stairs, he prayed that he could get back out. He beat on the door and was relieved to see it open. The old man and Elron seemed pleased to see him. Looking at the one magazine, the old man said, “Is that all you want? I’m trying to get rid of those old things. I get $10.00 for 5. Do you wanna get some more?” As he looked back down the stairs to the old basement temple of lost pulp fiction he simply said, “No.” and handed the man ten dollars and said, “Maybe another day.” The old man laid down some electrical tools and took the money.

As he left back down the long lane, he turned on his air conditioner and began to laugh and couldn’t stop looking at his beautiful old pulp fiction, all the way home.

Weeks later as he was having his morning coffee, watching the news he hears, “Breaking news, an old house off Old Mill Road has burned to the ground overnight. The owner and his dog survived but the house was a total loss due to an electrical fire that sparked some useless old paper stored inside.”

© 2010, terryowens. All rights reserved.

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Tags: Flash Fiction, indiana jones, lost temple, pulp fiction

This entry was posted on August 20, 2010 at 10:31 pm and is filed under Fiction, Flash Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.