These are the words a carnival entertainer once spoke to a young Bradbury, way back in 1932, as the man touched him on the nose with an electrified sword and made his hair stand on end. It was at that moment that he decided to become a writer and immortalize himself through his words. And live forever he shall, long after our bones have settled into the ground and our cities have turned to dust, for his writings will certainly be somewhere in time and space - perhaps in the form of an old radio satellite transmission traveling through a meteor shower, or in the minds and hearts of some far off alien civilization who tell his stories to their own children as though they were really true. Invented histories of the once-existing planet called Earth.
2) "May I Die Before My Voices"
This is the title of the forward preceding the Del Rey trade edition of the The October Country, published in the autumn of 1996. Every day, since Bradbury was 22 or 23, he wakes up in the morning and listens to the din of voices that echoed inside of his mind. More than mere voices, they are also a wealth of concepts and ideas that give him the initial spark for a story. By the end of the forward, he states that should he wake one morning and not hear anymore of these "voices," then he would know that his life was over . . . although he does hope that they stay with him right to the end. I think so, and believe that even his epitaph will tell a story one day.
3) "It Was a Pleasure to Burn"
Anyone who is at all familiar with Bradbury's work will instantly recognize this as the opening passage to his most famous work, and also one of the most important literary milestones of the 20th Century - Fahrenheit 451. A strange, yet not quite improbable future where the firemen burn the books . . . the Nazis did it once, which is where Bradbury got the idea for his masterpiece to begin with, and it is up to us and our future generations to ensure such things never happen again.
4) "We Need to Become the Martians"
This is what Bradbury told the audience as he discussed space travel during his latest Comic Con appearance on July 24th, 2010. I was sitting in the front row of the panel, listening attentively and trying to capture every word in my mind like a precious grain of sand. Over the course of an hour, with his Biographer Sam Weller leading a Q&A session, Mr. Bradbury told of many things that I never knew about: like guiding Rod Serling while he was creating the Twilight Zone, having dinner at Hitchcock's house where all of the food was purple, and even having a chance encounter with Bo Derek at a train station in Paris once upon a time. He also said we should never have left the moon, adding that we need to go to Mars and off into the universe and, once we do so, then we (being the human race) will live forever - thus, we do indeed need to become the martians, just as Bradbury stated. Asked if he had any regrets in life, he answered that it was, "Not getting back together with Bo Derek." I can only imagine . . .
5) Final Thoughts
I am now drawing this article to a close, sipping the last of my latte, and wonder how to end it, especially given that this man has had a great influence on me as an adult - not merely as a writer, but also as a creative thinker and reader. My house is filled with shelves that are overflowing with books, each a treasure chest waiting to be opened. Among these are some of my favorite Bradbury books: The Illustrated Man, The October Country, The Halloween Tree, Long After Midnight, Something Wicked This Way Comes, and a special collector's edition of Dark Carnival signed by him and Clive Barker (the other great influence in my life). I admit that I emulated some of his works when I started writing stories in my early 20's, everything from carnivals and Halloween parties to alien invaders, and am even creating my own radio play series. Instead of a story, I leave you all with this poem I wrote in honor of Bradbury back in 2003. So come one, come all, step aboard and ride the nightmare . . .
"The Bewitching Carousel"
By: Charles M. Kline
Beneath the canopy of a carnival tent it spins and spins around,
As the cherubic chime of its sweet music rings and rings aloud.
So uncanny is the sound, this melody the Devil himself knows quite well,
For it belongs to that machine forged from darkness: the Bewitching Carousel;
So I dare, dare you to come on inside and see for yourself this instrument of Hell.
With its timeless sense of wonder it attracts the young as well as the old:
Year round from spring to summer, from autumn’s decay to winter’s cold.
It dazzles, yes dazzles the eye with painted landscapes of shadows that seem
To breathe life into a menagerie of beasts when the sun is asleep with dreams.
Only after midnight, Long After Midnight, do its tigers roar and horses scream.
With a timeless sense of wonder it calls upon the child buried in us all:
Year round from April to July, in cooler October and December snowfall.
It dazzles, yes dazzles the senses with surreal colors from nightmares that yearn
To breathe life into a menagerie beasts when the imagination’s fires begin to burn.
Only after midnight, Long After Midnight, can arcane secrets ever truly be learned.
Beneath the canopy of a carnival tent it starts to spin faster and faster,
As the cherubic chime of a waltz turns grim for its demoniacal master.
So uncanny is this sound, this swirling dance macabre that serves as a knell,
For it belongs to that machine forged from sorcery: the Bewitching Carousel.
So I dare, dare you to come on inside and climb on to this instrument of Hell;
You won’t need money for this one way ride, not when you have a soul to sell.