Ray Bradbury, RIP
It was a quiet morning, the town covered over with darkness and at ease in bed. Summer gathered in the weather, the wind had the proper touch, the breathing of the world was long and warm and slow. You had only to rise, lean from your window, and know that this indeed was the first real time of freedom and living, this was the first morning of summer.
Douglas Spaulding, twelve, freshly wakened, let summer idle him on its early-morning stream. Lying in his third-story cupola bedroom, he felt the tall power it gave him, riding high in the June wind, the grandest tower in town. At night, when the trees washed together, he flashed his gaze like a beacon from this lighthouse in all directions over swarming seas of elm and oak and maple. Now . . .
“Boy,” whispered Douglas.
2 Responses to “Ray Bradbury, RIP”
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Creators never die. Their works echo and resonate throughout the culture. Even if the work is lost, its impact remains, like the ripples left by the passing of a stone.
Bradbury knew this; “A Sound of Thunder” is an exploration of the principle. His legacy is not just the words he left behind, but the people he inspired and influenced to extend their dreams beyond the mundane and commonplace.
Rest well, Ray, and thank you.
Raph it is uncanny how you post about things important to me. RIP a great author.