The October Country

The October Country
Ray Douglas Bradbury

One of Ray Bradbury’s classic short story collections, available for the first time in ebook.The October Country is a classic collection of nineteen macabre short stories from the modern master of the fantastic.It is many places: a picturesque Mexican village where death is a tourist attraction; a city beneath the city where drowned lovers are silently reunited; a carnival midway where a tiny man's most cherished fantasy can be fulfilled night after night. The book’s inhabitants live, dream, work, die – and sometimes live again – discovering, often too late, the high price of citizenship…

THE OCTOBER COUNTRY

RAY BRADBURY

Dedication (#ulink_3a41d1eb-3cd0-5015-8c87-b18b3edc60f0)

For who else but

August Derleth

Contents

Dedication (#u8deb5e83-c947-59a3-b8c5-5ce05fc13383)

Homesteading the October Country (#ulink_74e10133-75ac-5b37-9d2c-97afc264f6c6)

October Country (#ulink_4b01e8ff-643b-5f4e-a69b-f96fa5109817)

The Dwarf (#ulink_20ed585e-6a92-5ca8-b03e-a904287a2e0f)

The Next in Line (#ulink_f468efe0-9d6d-5be3-a110-1bca32de2a8e)

The Watchful Poker Chip of H. Matisse (#ulink_44bbb43f-0b45-5b74-aa97-864a0d713177)

Skeleton (#litres_trial_promo)

The Jar (#litres_trial_promo)

The Lake (#litres_trial_promo)

The Emissary (#litres_trial_promo)

Touched with Fire (#litres_trial_promo)

The Small Assassin (#litres_trial_promo)

The Crowd (#litres_trial_promo)

Jack-in-the-Box (#litres_trial_promo)

The Scythe (#litres_trial_promo)

Uncle Einar (#litres_trial_promo)

The Wind (#litres_trial_promo)

The Man Upstairs (#litres_trial_promo)

There Was an Old Woman (#litres_trial_promo)

The Cistern (#litres_trial_promo)

Homecoming (#litres_trial_promo)

The Wonderful Death of Dudley Stone (#litres_trial_promo)

Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher

Homesteading the October Country (#ulink_82945099-1734-5200-a10d-f19c18513c62)

An Introduction

Well, now, how do you do that—homestead an autumn landscape that won’t stand still, all whispers, shadows, and dousing rains?

It all began the day I was born. Oh my god, I can hear you say, here comes the flim-flam. No, no, I say, here comes a consequential truth: I remember being born.

Can’t be done, you counter. Never happened.

Did, is my response.

I found out many, many years later the reason for my remembrance: I was a ten-month baby. Which means what? That snugged away for an extra twenty-eight or thirty days I had a serene opportunity to develop my sight, hearing, and taste. I came forth wide-eyed, aware of everything I saw and felt. Especially the dreadful shock of being propelled out into a cooler environment, leaving my old home forever, to be surrounded by strangers.

All because I had lingered for that extra month and sharpened my senses.

You must admit that gave me an advantage few other humans have had, to emerge with my retina in full register to recall from Instant One a lifetime of metaphors, large and small.

From that moment on I can recollect my life.

When I was three my mother, a maniac for silent movies, toted me to the cinema to see The Hunchback of Notre Dame with Lon Chaney riding the bells and raining hot liquid lead on the villains below the church.

I did not encounter the Hunchback again until I was seventeen, when some unholy friends took me to a theatre in Hollywood for a late-on-in-life review. Before we entered I told my friends I remembered the entire film, last seen when I was three. They snorted and laughed. I described the most important scenes. We then went in and there were all the scenes I had described.

The Phantom of the Opera. Same experience. 1925. Imbedded in the dark place at the back of my head.

The Lost World. Same year. The dinosaurs lingered into my thirties when I wrote them down and did a film with the fabulous animator of dinosaurs, Ray Harryhausen, The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms.

Add them all up, being born aware, climbing Notre Dame with the Hunchback, shadowing the Opera with the Phantom, falling off prehistoric cliffs with brontosaurs, and you arrive at the age of twelve to begin writing.