Ray Bradbury Fullscreen The Martian Chronicles (1950)

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Anyway, the mother knows what I am; she guessed, even as you did.

I think they all guessed but didn’t question.

You don’t question Providence.

If you can’t have the reality, a dream is just as good.

Perhaps I’m not their dead one back, but I’m something almost better to them; an ideal shaped by their minds.

I have a choice of hurting them or your wife.”

“They’re a family of five.

They can stand your loss better!”

“Please,” said the voice. “I’m tired.”

The old man’s voice hardened.

“You’ve got to come.

I can’t let Anna be hurt again.

You’re our son.

You’re my son, and you belong to us.”

“No, please!”

The shadow trembled.

“You don’t belong to this house or these people!”

“No, don’t do this to me!”

“Tom, Tom, Son, listen to me.

Come back, slip down the vines, boy.

Come along, Anna’s waiting; we’ll give you a good home, everything you want.”

He stared and stared upward, willing it to be.

The shadows drifted, the vines rustled.

At last the quiet voice said,

“All right, Father.”

“Tom!”

In the moonlight the quick figure of a boy slid down through the vines. LaFarge put up his arms to catch him.

The room lights above flashed on.

A voice issued from one of the grilled windows.

“Who’s down there?”

“Hurry, boy!”

More lights, more voices.

“Stop, I have a gun!

Vinny, are you all right?”

A running of feet.

Together the old man and the boy ran across the garden.

A shot sounded.

The bullet struck the wall as they slammed the gate.

“Tom, you that way; I’ll go here and lead them off!

Run to the canal; I’ll meet you there in ten minutes, boy!”

They parted.

The moon hid behind a cloud.

The old man ran in darkness.

“Anna, I’m here!”

The old woman helped him, trembling, into the boat.

“Where’s Tom?”

“He’ll be here in a minute,” panted LaFarge.

They turned to watch the alleys and the sleeping town.

Late strollers were still out: a policeman, a night watchman, a rocket pilot, several lonely men coming home from some nocturnal rendezvous, four men and women issuing from a bar, laughing. Music played dimly somewhere.

“Why doesn’t he come?” asked the old woman.