did-you-know? rent-now

Amazon no longer offers textbook rentals. We do!

did-you-know? rent-now

Amazon no longer offers textbook rentals. We do!

We're the #1 textbook rental company. Let us show you why.


Bradbury Stories

  • ISBN13:


  • ISBN10:


  • Edition: 1st
  • Format: Hardcover
  • Copyright: 2003-07-17
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publications
  • Purchase Benefits
  • Free Shipping Icon Free Shipping On Orders Over $35!
    Your order must be $35 or more to qualify for free economy shipping. Bulk sales, PO's, Marketplace items, eBooks and apparel do not qualify for this offer.
  • eCampus.com Logo Get Rewarded for Ordering Your Textbooks! Enroll Now
List Price: $29.95


Spanning six decades of his astonishing career, here is a retrospective collection of 100 magnificent stories that confirms this literary genius's status as a master of short fiction.

Author Biography

The author of more than thirty books, Ray Bradbury is one of the most celebrated fiction writers of our time. Among his best-known works are Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, Dandelion Wine, and Something Wicked This Way Comes. He has written for the theater and the cinema, including the screenplay for John Huston's classic film adaptation of Moby Dick, and was nominated for an Academy Award. He adapted sixty-five of his stories for television's The Ray Bradbury Theater and won an Emmy for his teleplay of The Halloween Tree. In 2000, Bradbury was honored by the National Book Foundation with a medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters. Among his most recent works are the novels Let's All Kill Constance, From the Dust Returned -- selected as one of the Best Books of the Year by the Los Angeles Times -- and One More for the Road, a new story collection. Bradbury lives in Los Angeles, California, with his wife, Marguerite

Table of Contents

Introductionp. xiii
The Whole Town's Sleepingp. 1
The Rocketp. 16
Season of Disbeliefp. 25
And the Rock Cried Outp. 33
The Drummer Boy of Shilohp. 54
The Beggar on O'Connell Bridgep. 59
The Flying Machinep. 73
Heavy-Setp. 78
The First Night of Lentp. 86
Lafayette, Farewellp. 92
Remember Sascha?p. 100
Juniorp. 107
That Woman on the Lawnp. 113
February 1999: Yllap. 125
Bansheep. 136
One for His Lordship, and One for the Road!p. 148
The Laurel and Hardy Love Affairp. 156
Unterderseaboat Doktorp. 163
Another Fine Messp. 174
The Dwarfp. 182
A Wild Night in Galwayp. 192
The Windp. 197
No News, or What Killed the Dog?p. 206
A Little Journeyp. 213
Any Friend of Nicholas Nickleby's Is a Friend of Minep. 220
The Garbage Collectorp. 243
The Visitorp. 248
The Manp. 260
Henry the Ninthp. 271
The Messiahp. 278
Bang! You're Dead!p. 287
Darling Adolfp. 298
The Beautiful Shavep. 312
Colonel Stonesteel's Genuine Home-made Truly Egyptian Mummyp. 315
I See You Neverp. 328
The Exilesp. 331
At Midnight, in the Month of Junep. 343
The Witch Doorp. 352
The Watchersp. 361
2004-05: The Naming of Namesp. 375
Hopscotchp. 376
The Illustrated Manp. 383
The Dead Manp. 394
June 2001: And the Moon Be Still as Brightp. 403
The Burning Manp. 426
G.B.S.--Mark Vp. 432
A Blade of Grassp. 442
The Sound of Summer Runningp. 449
And the Sailor, Home from the Seap. 454
The Lonely Onesp. 461
The Finneganp. 470
On the Orient, Northp. 479
The Smiling Peoplep. 490
The Fruit at the Bottom of the Bowlp. 498
Bugp. 508
Downwind from Gettysburgp. 515
Time in Thy Flightp. 529
Changelingp. 533
The Dragonp. 539
Let's Play "Poison"p. 542
The Cold Wind and the Warmp. 547
The Meadowp. 562
The Kilimanjaro Devicep. 576
The Man in the Rorschach Shirtp. 585
Bless Me, Father, for I Have Sinnedp. 595
The Pedestrianp. 600
Trapdoorp. 604
The Swanp. 613
The Sea Shellp. 624
Once More, Legatop. 630
June 2003: Way in the Middle of the Airp. 639
The Wonderful Death of Dudley Stonep. 651
By the Numbers!p. 661
April 2005: Usher IIp. 668
The Square Pegsp. 682
The Trolleyp. 695
The Smilep. 698
The Miracles of Jamiep. 703
A Far-away Guitarp. 711
The Cisternp. 720
The Machineries of Joyp. 726
Bright Phoenixp. 738
The Wishp. 745
The Lifework of Juan Diazp. 751
Time Intervening/Interimp. 760
Almost the End of the Worldp. 765
The Great Collision of Monday Lastp. 772
The Poemsp. 778
April 2026: The Long Yearsp. 789
Icarus Montgolfier Wrightp. 799
Death and the Maidenp. 803
Zero Hourp. 811
The Toynbee Convectorp. 820
Forever and the Earthp. 830
The Handlerp. 845
Getting Through Sunday Somehowp. 854
The Pumpernickelp. 861
Last Ritesp. 865
The Watchful Poker Chip of H. Matissep. 873
All on a Summer's Nightp. 881
Table of Contents provided by Ingram. All Rights Reserved.

Supplemental Materials

What is included with this book?

The New copy of this book will include any supplemental materials advertised. Please check the title of the book to determine if it should include any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.

The Used, Rental and eBook copies of this book are not guaranteed to include any supplemental materials. Typically, only the book itself is included. This is true even if the title states it includes any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.


Bradbury Stories
100 of His Most Celebrated Tales

The Whole Town's Sleeping

He was trying to drive me insane. It was the only reason I could think of for why he treated me the way he did: one day all beery and friendly, him and Isaac working together on fixing up my room, letting me sit and listen in on their jam session; then the next morning a maniac again, telling me hands off the stereo and his stupid tools, assigning me chapters in some prehistoric cowboy book I'd never heard of, like I'd landed in remedial reading in summer school. I should have just stayed in Dallas and taken my chances. I should have sat down in the middle of the driveway and refused to get in the car with Ma. Nothing could be worse than this. Except, maybe, one thing; now, all of a sudden, Lucy was in on it, too. When she snatched that Pop-Tart out of my hand I just about died. I know she was just trying to keep me from asking about stuff that was none of my business, but still. I felt stabbed, like she'd all of a sudden switched sides and lined herself up with the devil.

I ran out the door with Dad hollering my name, but he didn't keep it up or come after me, which only proved my point, that he cared more about exerting his brand-new parental supremacy than he did about the actual welfare of me, his daughter. I kept on going, across the road and into the woods, the dogs at my heels.

When I was sure no one was following me, I sat down on a stump and listened. I realized I was close enough to the house to hear what was going on. Sure enough, not two minutes after I left, Dad's truck started up and drove away, and about ten minutes later Lucy's Buick did the same. It was the first time I'd been alone since I'd landed in Mooney, almost a whole week before. I got a little chill of excitement. I could do whatever I wanted. I had no money, no car; to tell the truth, I didn't know how to drive. But I was on my own.

It was nice there, in the woods. I slipped off my headphones and put my Walkman in the pocket of my sweatshirt. High over my head the trees made a canopy of sweet-smelling green, and the ground under my feet was soft with crushed pine needles, and after awhile I could make out the sounds of three or four different birds. The dogs had gotten on the scent of something and started running in circles, then all of a sudden dashed deeper into the woods. I decided to go after them.

I lost sight of them pretty quick, but I could hear them moving around in the underbrush, and I kept going until I came out in a little clearing. I poked around and found the remains of an old building: crumbling steps, a couple of blackened cornerstones, the charred-out hulk of a pot-bellied stove. Everything else, it looked like, the woods had reclaimed.

Then, just beyond the ruined foundation, I discovered an old graveyard. It wasn't much more, really, than a patch of ground, set off by a border of broad, flat stones, but the space inside had been neatly cleared, and the markers, though they looked ancient, were upright and mostly legible. I walked slowly among the stones and read the names and the dates out loud. Eustice Washington had died in 1927, at the age of a hundred and two. Alvin Getty, born 1912, had only lived four days. The most recent stone was 1943, two whole generations ago. There was no question it was a place for spirits, but I felt welcome there. They probably didn't get that many visitors; I figured they were glad to see me.

I sat down on the stone border and looked around. It was a pretty place, with a slash of blue sky overhead and the clean scent of pine all around, and I listened to the dogs and the birds and the wind in the trees until I realized that my heart had stopped pounding and I didn't feel like I needed to cry anymore.

Part of my brain, the sensible part, was telling me to go back to the empty house and throw my stuff into my duffel bag and just get the hell away. But I was less than two months from my fifteenth birthday; my heart, most of the time, felt too small for all the things it was trying to hold. The fact was, I was a little bit in love with East Texas, and with my father and Lucy, too. As confused and sad as I felt, this had in some ways been one of the best weeks of my life. I had been in a honky-tonk, a guitar store, a garden full of Buddhist trinkets, a Baptist church, an old country cemetery. I'd gotten my first lipstick—Chanel, to boot -- and learned to two-step. I'd eaten more fried chicken in a week than I had the whole rest of my life. My father had turned out to be a better musician than I could have hoped for. There was more music, I knew, where that came from; somewhere were the songs he'd written for me as a colicky baby. Wasn't that proof, no matter how shabby, that he'd loved me once? How could I leave until I had that in my hand?

The dogs came crashing back through the woods into the clearing, looking depressed. Actually, just Booker looked depressed; Steve Cropper wasn't smart enough, I don't think, to realize they'd been after anything, he'd only been along for the ride ...

Bradbury Stories
100 of His Most Celebrated Tales
. Copyright © by Ray Bradbury. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

Excerpted from Bradbury Stories: 100 of His Most Celebrated Tales by Ray Bradbury
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Rewards Program