The compleat collected s.., p.1
The COMPLEAT Collected Short SFF Stories, page 1
Margaret St. Clair
About this collection
and similar COMPLEAT collections
This volume includes all 114 short Science Fiction and Fantasy stories written and published by Margaret St. Clair during her career. The primary source of the bibliography is the information provided from www.isfdb.org.
Plus two bonus non-genre stories "The Perfectionist" and "The Lost One".
All but one story (The Boy Who Predicted Earthquakes) are proofed to the original published version, most commonly scans from the pulp magazines.
-
By St. Clair's own count, she wrote and published "some 130 short stories". Compiled below are 11 non-genre stories by MSC in addition to "the Lost One" and "The Perfectionist" in this collection.
Letter from the Deceased · Margaret St. Clair · ss - 115-119
Street & Smith’s Detective Story Magazine [v169n03, March 1945]
Motive for Murder · Margaret St. Clair · ss - 58-62
Mammoth Detective [v06n06, June 1947]
Nightmare Lady · Margaret St. Clair · ss - 63-70
Dime Mystery Magazine [v39n01, October 1949]
The Mountains Said No (ss)
Frontier Stories [Summer 1950] (as by Wilton Hazzard) (by Margaret St. Clair per reprint in Seikkailujen Maailma #2 1958)
Murder on the Five Fifteen · M. St. Clair · ss - 121-126
Argosy (UK) [v12n04, April 1951]
Bannion’s Cave · Margaret St. Clair · ss - 90-98
Stories Annual [v01n01, 1955]
The Courier.· Margaret St. Clair · ss –
Double-Action Detective Stories [Spring 1957]
The Ultimate Accessory · Margaret St. Clair · ss
Dude [September 1958]
The Nembutal Tree · Margaret St. Clair · ss
The Gent [v03n03, February 1959]
Treasure Chest · Margaret St. Clair · ss
The Gent [v05n01, October 1960]
The Sexth Sense · Margaret St. Clair · ss
The Gent [June 1961]
The following stories are as written by Wilton Hazzard, a house pseudonum used by Nelson S. Bond, Theodore J. Roemer, and Margaret St. Clair.
Slayer by Stealth (nv) Jungle Stories Spring 1948 (probably Nelson S. Bond)
Harmon vs. Reagan (ss) Football Action Fall 1948 (possibly Margaret St. Clair)
Witch’s Moon (nv) Jungle Stories Fall 1948 (probably Nelson S. Bond)
Tomtom Tragedy (nv) Jungle Stories Winter 1948 (probably Nelson S. Bond)
Sluggers Wild! (ss) Baseball Stories Spring 1950 (possibly Margeret St. Clair)
The three Jungle Stories have been included at the end of this collection, just in case.
-
Styles have been changed from the originals to provide a common style throughout the collection. Spellings where deviant from modern American usage have been left in their original for "flavour", altho British standard quotes if present have been replaced with American standard quotes.
Obvious mistakes (duplicated words, variant spellings of the same name or phrase within a story, missing quotes, etc ...) have been corrected where found (I don't see any need to perpetuate the mistakes of the typesetters). The varying quality of the writing is not my fault!
Series
Oona and Jick
The Soma Racks
1947
Super Whost
1947
Aleph Sub One
1948
The Dobridust
1948
The Metal Lark
1948
The Rotohouse
1948
The Himalyachalet
1949
The Neo-Geoduck
1949
-
Individual Stories
Publication Date Title
1946/05 The Perfectionist
1946/11 Rocket to Limbo
1947/03 The Soma Racks – Oona & Jick 01
1947/07 Super Whost – Oona & Jick 02
1947/08 The Stroller
1947/10 Probate
1947/10 Whenever the Sun Shines
1947/12 Piety
1948/01 Aleph Sub One – Oona & Jick 03
1948/02 The Dobridust – Oona & Jick 04
1948/06 The Metal Lark – Oona & Jick 05
1948/07 Quis Custodiet ...?
1948/08 The Rotohouse – Oona & Jick 06
1949/02 The Himalaychalet – Oona & Jick 07
1949/04 The Hierophants
1949/05 Garden of Evil
1949/07 Dreadful Dreamer
1949/07 The Sacred Martian Pig
1949/08 The Neo-Geoduck – Oona & Jick 08
1949/08 The Counter Charm
1949/09 Bride of Eternity
1949/10 The Gardener
1949/11 Child of Void
1949/12 Jamieson
1950/00 The Boy Who Predicted Earthquakes
1950/01 Hathor's Pets
1950/01 The Family
1950/01 World of Arlesia
1950/03 The Corn Dance
1950/05 The Last Three Ships
1950/06 Flowering Evil
1950/06 The Pillows
1950/07 Mrs. Hawk
1950/08 Meem
1950/11 The Invisible Reweaver
1950/12 The Everlasting Food
1950/12 The Listening Child # as by Idris Seabright
1951/01 Professor Kate
1951/03 Age of Prophecy
1951/03 Then Fly Our Greetings
1951/04 Brightness Falls from the Air # as by Idris Seabright
1951/04 The Replaced
1951/06 Follow the Weeds
1951/07 The Little Red Owl
1951/09 The Inhabited Men
1951/10 The Man Who Sold Rope to the Gnoles # as by Idris Seabright
1951/11 The Bird
1951/11 The Way Back
1952/01 Return Engagement
1952/01 The Dancers # as by Wilton Hazzard
1952/01 The Vanderlark
1952/02 The Hole in the Moon # as by Idris Seabright
1952/02 Vulcan's Dolls
1952/05 The Muralist
1952/06 The Causes
1952/09 Island of the Hands
1952/10 An Egg a Month from All Over # as by Idris Seabright
1952/10 Continued Story
1953/01 New Ritual
1953/02 The Unreliable Perfumist
1953/03 Thirsty God
1953/04 The Espadrilles
1953/07 Judgment Planet # as by Idris Seabright
1953/09 The Goddess on the Street Corner
1953/11 The Altruists
1953/12 Prott
1954/01 The Monitor
1954/03 Brenda
1954/06 Short in the Chest # as by Idris Seabright
1954/07 Finders Keepers
1954/07 The Rations of Tantalus
1954/10 The Marriage Manual
1955/01 CRESCENDO
1955/03 Change the Sky # as by Idris Seabright
1955/03 Mistress of Viridis
1955/09 Lazarus
1955/09 Personal Monster # as by Idris Seabright
1955/11 Asking
1955/11 Fort Iron
1956/06 The Death Wish
1956/07 Horrer Howce
1956/07 White Goddess # s by Idris Seabright
1956/09 Consumership
1956/09 Stawdust # as by Idris Seabright
1956/11 The Hero Comes # as by Idris Seabright
1957/02 Inauguration
1957/07 Eithne # as by Idris Seabright
1957/09 Starobin
1957/09 The Wines of Earth # as by Idris Seabright
1958/02 Squee
1958/04 Birthright
1958/04 The Death of Each Day # as by Idris Seabright
1958/07 To Please the Master
1958/08 The Invested Libido
1958/12 Vector
1959/01 The Anaheim Disease
1959/02 Discipline
1959/02 Graveyard Shift # as by Idris Seabright
1959/09 The Scarlet Hexapod
1959/09 The Lost One
1960/01 The Autumn After Next
1960/02 The Nuse Man
1960/04 The Airy Servitor
1960/09 Parallel Beans
1961/01 The House in Bel Aire
1961/08 Lochinvar
1961/12 An Old Fashioned Bird Christmas
1962/10 Roberta
1966/01 Beaulieu
1967/00 The Estuary
1974/07 Shore Leave
1974/07 The Shadow of Horns
1979/04 Places to Crawl Through
1979/12 The Sorrows of Witches
1980/00 Wryneck, Draw Me
1981/09 The Hashed Brown Buggy
Jungle Stories (as by Wilton Hazzzard)
1948/03 Slayer by Stealth
1948/09 Witch's Moon
1948/12 Tom-tom Tragedy
The COMPLEAT
Collected Short Science-Fiction
& Fantasy Works
of
MARGARET ST. CLAIR
The Perfectionist
Mystery Book Magazine – May 1946
I HAD nightmares about it for several years afterwards—the kind where something is on your heels, and you make desperate efforts, each more futile than the last, to escape it—and I always felt bad about them when I woke up. I never could decide whether I was justified in having bad dreams at all.
&n
Aunt Muriel wasn't exactly my aunt, to begin with. She was a sort of great-aunt, once-removed, on my mother's side, and I hadn't seen her since I was a beady-eyed kid in knee breeches.
The invitation might have surprised me—though she explained in the letter that she was an old woman, getting lonely, and felt the need of some kindred face near her—only I was too hungry to wonder.
There was a money order in the letter, and a ticket to Downie, where she lived. After I paid the back room-rent with the money order and got myself a meal with double portions of everything, I had two dollars and thirteen cents left. I caught the afternoon train to Downie, and a little before noon the next day I was walking up the steps to Aunt Muriel's house.
Aunt Muriel herself met me at the door. She seemed glad to see me. She wrinkled up her mouth in a smile of welcome.
"So good of you to come, Charles!" she said. "I really can't thank you enough! So very good of you!" She ran to italics.
I was beginning to warm up to the old girl. She didn't look any older to me than she had fifteen years before. She'd been held together by whalebone and net collars then, and she still was. I put the more flattering portion of this idea into words.
"Oh, Charles," she chirped, "you flatterer!" She gave me another smile and then led me into the hall.
I followed her up the stairs to my room on the second floor front. It had a high ceiling and a tall four-poster bed which should have had curtains around it to cut off the draft. After she left, I put my imitation leather suitcase in the big closet and went into the bath next door to clean up.
Lunch was laid on the dining room table when I came down, and a maid, who looked a good deal older than Aunt Muriel, was fluttering in and out with more dishes. With my aunt's encouragement, I ate enough to keep me comatose all afternoon, and then sat back with a cigarette and listened to her talk.
She began by doing a good deal of commiserating with herself on the subject of her age and loneliness, and a good deal of self-congratulation because she was going to have a young kinsman around from now on.
It developed that I was expected to make myself useful in small ways like walking the dog—an unpleasant Pomeranian named Teddy—and taking letters to the mail box. This was perfectly all right with me, and I told her so.
There was a short hiatus in the conversation. Then, picking Teddy up off the floor where he'd been during the meal, she installed him in her lap and launched out on an account of what she called her hobby. In the last year or so she'd taken up drawing and it had become, from what she said, almost an obsession.
Holding Teddy under one arm, she rose and went to the walnut sideboard and returned with a portfolio of drawings for me to look at.
"I do almost all my drawing here in the dining room," she said, "because the light is so good. Tell me, what do you think of these?" She handed me fifty or sixty small sheets of drawing paper.
I spread the drawings out on the dining room table, among the litter of dishes, and examined them carefully. They were all in pencil, though one or two had been touched up with blotches of water color, and they were all of the same subject, four apples in a low china bowl.
They had been labored over; Aunt Muriel had erased and re-erased until the surface of the paper was gritty and miserable. I racked my brains for something nice to say about them.
"You—unh—you've really caught something of the essence of those apples," I forced out after a moment. "Very creditable."
My aunt smiled. "I'm so glad you like them," she replied. "Amy said—the maid, you know—that I was silly to work at them so much, but I couldn't stop, I couldn't bear to stop, until they were perfect." She paused, then added, "Do you know, Charles, I had the biggest difficulty!"
"Yes?"
"The apples kept withering! It was dreadful. I put them in the icebox just as soon as I got through for the day, but still they went bad after two or three weeks. It wasn't until Amy thought of dipping them in melted wax that they lasted long enough."
"Good idea."
"Yes, wasn't it? But you know, Charles, I've gotten rather tired of apples lately. I'd like to try something else ... I've been thinking, that little tree out on the lawn would make a good subject."
She went over to the window to show me the tree she meant. I followed her. It was a young sapling, just coming into leaf. My aunt said it was a flowering peach.
"Don't you think that would be a good subject, Charles? I believe I'll try it this afternoon while you take Teddy for a little walk."
Amy helped bundle my aunt up in several layers of coats and mufflers, and I carried the stool, the easel, the box of pencils and the paper out into the garden for her.
She was rather fussy about the location of the various items, but I finally got them fixed to her satisfaction. Then, though I'd much rather have had an after-luncheon nap upstairs, I snapped the lead on Teddy's objectionable little collar and started out for a survey of the town of Downie.
I soon realized that Downie was the sort of town whose social life centers around the drugstore, but I managed to kill the next two hours by letting Teddy investigate the lamp posts which caught his fancy.
I expected to find Aunt Muriel on the lawn when I got back, hard at work on her drawing, but she had gone in and the easel and stool were gone, too. I looked around for her, but she wasn't in sight, so I let Teddy climb into his box in the dining room and went upstairs for that belated nap.
After all, I couldn't get to sleep. For some irrelevant reason I kept thinking of all those painstaking drawings of the bowl of apples, and I lay on the bed and counted the spots on the wall until dinner time.
The dinner was good, and plentiful. My aunt, however, was definitely snappish. After Amy had cleared away the dishes and my aunt had restored Teddy to his accustomed place on her lap, I found out what the reason was.
"My drawing went badly," she complained. "The wind kept whipping those leaves around until I couldn't get a thing done."
"I didn't notice much wind, Aunt Muriel," I said rather stupidly.
"You just don't notice things!" she flared. "Why, the leaves weren't still a single minute."
I hastened to make amends.
"I can see that a careful craftsman like yourself might be distracted," I placated her. "I'm sorry. I haven't been with artists much."
The reference to herself as an artist pleased my aunt.
"Oh, I'm sure you didn't mean to give offense," she said. "It's just that I can't work with anything unless it's absolutely still. That's why I stayed with the apples so long. But I would like to draw that tree. I wonder ... She went into a brown study which lasted until she had emptied two cups of coffee.
"Charles," she said finally, "I've been thinking. I want you to chop that tree down for me tomorrow and bring it into the house. I'll put it in one of those two-quart milk bottles. That way I can draw it without the wind bothering me."
"But it's such a nice little tree," I protested. "Besides, it won't last long after it's been cut down."
"Oh, it's only a tree," she replied. "I'll get another from the nursery. And about the withering, Amy is wonderful with flowers. She puts aspirin and sugar in the water, and they last forever. Of course, I'll have to work fast. But if I put in two or three hours in the morning and four or five after lunch, I ought to get something done."
As far as she was concerned, the matter was settled.
Immediately after breakfast next morning, Aunt Muriel led me to the tool shed in the rear of the house and gave me a rusty hatchet. She watched with ghoulish interest while I put an edge on the hatchet and then escorted me to the scene of the execution. Feeling like a murderer, I severed the little sapling from its trunk with a couple of chops and then carried it into the house.
I spent the rest of that day, and the next three or four days, working in the garden. I've always liked gardening, and there were some nice things in the place, though they'd been badly neglected. I divided some perennials and fertilized the earth around them with bone meal. Somebody had stocked up the shed with Red Arrow and nicotine sulphate, and I had a good time spraying for aphids and beetles.
