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

by Ray Bradbury

I was twelve years old when it got its biggest jolt when Mr. Electrico arrived on Labor Day weekend, 1932, sat in his electric chair to be “electrocuted,” dubbed me with his fiery sword until my hair rose and sparks jumped from my nostrils, and cried, “Live forever!” Next day, I ran back to the carnival grounds to find out just how to do that. Mr. Electrico introduced me to all the carnival freaks behind the scenes, including the Hippo Lady, the Human Skeleton, and the Illustrated Man. We sat on the beach and he listened to my grand ideas about my irresistible future. When I had run out of gas, Mr. Electrico said, “We’ve met before.” “Oh, no, sir,” I said, “this is the first time Ie’ve ever talked to you.” “No, no,” he said, “you were my best friend at the battle of the Ardennes Forest outside Paris in October 1918, were wounded, and died in my arms. And here you are with a new face, new name, but the light coming from your eyes is the soul of my lost friend. Welcome back to the world.” I wandered out of the carnival, stunned, and stood by the rushing horses of the carousel listening to the calliope wheezing “Beautiful Ohio,” and wept. I knew that something amazing had struck me with electric fire and changed me forever. Within eight weeks I began to write. I wrote every day after that, for the next sixty-five years.