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Just click the link in the show description to Terrify.

Welcome to Tales to Terrify. Good evening. Come in, children of the night. I know you'll find a seat. You know your way around the summer dark of the nook by now.

I'm thinking about Ray Bradbury tonight. As you probably know, Ray died last week, a couple of months shy of his

92nd birthday. Here's just a very short clip from somebody's bio of him on the web. Bradbury was a

reader and writer throughout his youth, spending much time at the Carnegie Library in Waukegan, Illinois.

He used this library as a setting for much of his novel, Something Wicked This Way Comes,

which was turned into a film, and subsequently broadcast on radio with Orson Welles adding a

narration to the film soundtrack. Ray was six when he left Warkegan, so I don't know how accurate that is.

What I am about to say is not from his bio.

When that library in Warkegan opened a room to his memory, they asked him to come to the dedication.

They wouldn't pay his way or put him up for the night. Ray spoke harshly of them.

He could be prickly.

I've never lived in a world without Ray Bradbury, so I don't know how it'll be.

I suspect we'll survive, but it'll be a world diminished by his absence,

but incomparably enriched for his having been with us for so long and so productive a time.

1920 to 2012. We met twice. We drank together. We talked. He told me stories. Stories I already knew because I'd read

them. Stories I didn't know. He told me that when he was 12 and at a carnival, a sideshow performer

named Mr. Electro at the end of his act, reached out and touched Ray with a static electric

wand and in a crackle of ozone called out,

...