The Return of the Master

I purchased this book shortly before Ray Bradbury passed away.  

Those of you who know even a bit about me and my own writing career probably realize how wondrous a friend the esteemed author was to me, both as mentor and muse. His demise left a void in my heart I'll never get over.

During the days that followed, I couldn't bring myself to even open this book, as the obituaries and accolades streamed across all media. However, now, I feel it calling to me. I know this one was a highly personal story for Ray, based in part upon his own hopes and heartbreaks in Hollywood, and his life-long friendship with Ray Harryhausen.

I have a distinct feeling that the Master has something important in these pages that he wanted me to know. Even from beyond infinity, he's ever the patient teacher.

Very well, sir. Let's begin...

Another Halloween

As midnight approached last night, I toured the neighborhood, soaking in the Halloween moment.

Every year, since I was a kid, it's been very important for me to go in search of that feeling, that certain tinge of mystery in the crisp autumn atmosphere that marks this night like no other. Whatever is going on in my life, for worse or better, the magic always manages to find me. It's weird and wondrous.

A gigantic, glaring harvest moon followed me from street to street as the streets grew colder and more lifeless, slyly crawling leaves keeping me company in the brisk autumn breeze.  Earlier there had been Trick 'R Treaters swarming under the streetlamps and creeping up to my doorstep.  Many more than last year. Lots of tall, peaked hats and broomsticks. Just about perfect.

I've got to keep extra busy now and try not to let the post-Halloween depression set in, as it usually does. Maybe I'll manage to dodge it this year, but I know the odds are against me.

Even so, it sure was magic while it lasted.