The Stories of Ray Bradbury by Ray Bradbury Read Free Book Online

She’dhear as a dog heard. She forgot human construction completely. She’d have a dog frame. It was more than telepathy, up one flue and down another. This was complete separation from one body environment into another. It was entrance into tree-nozzling dogs, men, old maids, birds, children at hopscotch, lovers on their morning beds, into workers asweat with shoveling, into unborn babies’ pink, dream-small brains.
    Where would she go today? She made her decision, and went!
    When her mother tiptoed a moment later to peek into the room, she saw Cecy’s body on the bed, the chest not moving, the face quiet. Cecy was gone already. Mother nodded and smiled.
    The morning passed. Leonard, Bion and Sam went off to their work, as did Laura and the manicuring sister: and Timothy was dispatched to school. The house quieted. At noontime the only sound was made by Cecy Elliott’s three young girl-cousins playing Tisket Tasket Coffin Casket in the back yard. There were always extra cousins or uncles or grand-nephews and night-nieces about the place; they came and went; water out a faucet, down a drain.
    The cousins stopped their play when the tall loud man banged on the front door and marched straight in when Mother answered.
    ‘That was Uncle Jonn!’ said the littlest girl, breathless.
    ‘The one we hate?’ asked the second.
    ‘What’s he want?’ cried the third. ‘He looked mad!’
    ‘ We’re mad at him , that’s what,’ explained the second, proudly. ‘For what he did to the Family sixty years ago, and seventy years ago and twenty years ago.’
    ‘Listen!’ They listened. ‘He’s run upstairs!’
    ‘Sounds like he’s cryin’.’
    ‘Do grown-ups cry?’
    ‘Sure, silly!’
    ‘He’s in Cecy’s room! Shoutin’. Laughin’. Prayin’. Gryin’. He sounds mad, and sad, and fraidy-cat, all together!’
    The littlest one made tears, herself. She ran to the cellar door. ‘Wake up! Oh, down there, wake up! You in the boxes! Uncle Jonn’s here and he might have a cedar stake with him! I don’t want a cedar stake in my chest! Wake up!’
    ‘Shh,’ hissed the biggest girl. ‘He hasn’t a stake! You can’t wake the Boxed People, anyhow, Listen!’
    Their heads tilted, their eyes glistened upward, waiting.
    ‘Get off the bed!’ commanded Mother, in the doorway.
    Uncle Jonn bent over Cecy’s slumbering body. His lips were misshaped. There was a wild, fey and maddened focus to his green eyes.
    ‘Am I too late?’ he demanded, hoarsely, sobbing. ‘Is she gone?’
    ‘Hours ago!’ snapped Mother. ‘Are you blind? She might not be back for days. Sometimes she lies there a week. I don’t have to feed the body, she finds sustenance from whatever or whoever she’s in. Get away from her!’
    Uncle Jonn stiffened, one knee pressed on the springs.
    ‘Why couldn’t she wait?’ he wanted to know, frantically, looking at her, his hands feeling her silent pulse again and again.
    ‘You heard me!’ Mother moved forward curtly. ‘She’s not to be touched. She’s got to be left as she is. So if she comes home she can get back in her body exactly right.’
    Uncle Jonn turned his head. His long hard red face was pocked and senseless, deep black grooves crowded the tired eyes.
    ‘Where’d she go? I’ve got to find her.’
    Mother talked like a slap in the face. ‘I don’t know. She has favorite places. You might find her in a child running along a trail in the ravine. Or swinging on a grape vine. Or you might find her in a crayfish under a rock in the creek, looking up at you. Or she might be playing chess inside an old man in the court-house square. You know as well as I she can be anywhere.’ A wry look came to Mother’s mouth. ‘She might be vertical inside me now, looking out at you, laughing, and not telling you. This might be her talking and having fun. And you wouldn’t know it.’
    ‘Why—’ He swung heavily around, like a huge pivoted boulder. His big hands came up, wanting to grab something.