And I like Bradbury novels, though the first time I read him was a short story called Goodbye, Grandma about a woman who faces her death with joy and confidence, encouraging her family not to mourn her. Since then, I've read Fahrenheit 451, and his other collection of stories (S is for Space, The October County) and am still shivering at the simplicity with which he yields his metaphor and create a good simple shocking story from ordinary seemingly-harmless everyday situations.
But I don't know why I can't seem to read Something Wicked Comes This Way. It's plain laziness on my part. The perya (small-time carnival) has come and gone here in our place, and I didh't even get to ride the ferris wheel which is all dismantled now. That would have been a nice platform. I'm reading a Bradbury about two 13-year old boys who find themselves stranded in a carnival. At least that's how far I got.
It's almost Christmas, and I don't know where the perya has set up this time. In the Philippines, a perya doesn't have tents. Just betting tables where you throw your 1 Peso coin in the hopes it'll land smack inside a square and win you a ceramic mug or a bowl. And the caterpillar ride and ferris wheel is rusty and precarious , it's almost frightening as a ghost train.