Monday, October 21, 2013
That's when i hit pay dirt, holy shit a creepy looking baby on the cover of this book, with a name i was vaguely familiar with at the time (hey i was only 11 years old people). The title of my next written adventure was: the small assassin by Ray Bradbury. I thanked the librarian, who i swear had an evil grin on her face. I rode my bike home as fast as i could and wondered what strange tale awaited me. Finally reaching home i put my bike away and take off for my room with my new prize in hand. I open the book and the aroma of a decades old book hits my nostrils, i inhale deeply that "old book" smell and begin to read.
Years later when I was in High School, we had a Ray Bradbury appreciation week for his birthday and what was one of the many stories that we read that week? Of course The Small Assassin, it still captivated me all those years later and it still does to this very day. Bradbury had a way with not only words, but with emotions, he made you scared stiff, he made you look under your bed for something you damn well knew wasn't there. I remember my English teacher giving us an assignment on this short story, she wanted us to write an alternative ending and explain how we came to that conclusion and why?
I had no problems writing a new ending to this story, but i felt odd i must say. I was treading on a horror (and Sci-Fi) icons work with my high school drivel? How dare I, is all i can hear Bradbury say as I write out my version of his published work. So i finish my three page ending to his story and hand it in with much reluctance, it's like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Well to my amazement my teacher loved it, so much so she actually entered it in a contest for me on writing. I won, i am proud of that and I know Ray would be, but i'm still looking under my bed for that monster thats sure to grab me.....