Something Wicked This Way Comes (Green Town, #2)

by Ray Bradbury

I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing.

Go on. I’ll catch up, some day. . . .

“But when it’s time, tell me. Say goodbye. Otherwise, I might not let you go. Wouldn’t that be terrible, to just grab ahold?”

But three, now, Christ, three A.M. ! Doctors say the body’s at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You’re the nearest to dead you’ll ever be save dying.

And they ran together, following they didn’t know what on out and away to who could possibly guess where.

The night was sweet with the dust of autumn leaves that smelled as if the fine sands of ancient Egypt were drifting to dunes beyond the town.

By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.

The parade marched on.