Farewell Summer ~ Ray Bradbury - Marimarister

―Is that another?‖
Doug looked at her face and said, ―You look like you‘re enjoying this.‖
―I don‘t know,‖ said Lisabell. ―It‘s kind of strange, but the more I hear, I —‖ And here
she smiled a strange smile. The whispers and the cries and murmurs from the house grew louder
and Doug felt his whole body turn hot and then cold and then warm again.
Finally he reached down and found a large stone by the front of the house, reared his
hand back, and flung it through the glass panes of the front door.
The glass exploded with a loud crash and the door creaked open, slowly. Suddenly, all
the ghosts wailed at the same moment.
―Doug!‖ cried Lisabell. ―Why did you do that?‖
―Because . . .‖ said Doug.
And then it happened.
There was a rush of feet, a torrent of whispers, and a swirling mob of white shapes burst
out of the house and down the stairs and along the path and away into the ravine.
―Doug,‖ said Lisabell. ―Why‘d you do that?‖
―Because,‖ said Doug, ―I couldn‘t stand it anymore. Someone had to scare them out.
Someone had to act like they knew what they were doing. I bet they won‘t come back.‖
―That‘s terrible,‖ said Lisabell. ―Why would you want ghosts not to be here?‖
―Why would you think,‖ said Doug, ―that they had a right to be here? We don‘t even
know who they were.‖
―Well,‖ said Lisabell, angrily. ―Just for that I‘m going to teach you a lesson.‖
―What?‖ said Douglas.
And Lisabell stepped up to him, grabbed him by the ears, and planted an immense kiss on
Douglas‘s mouth. It lasted only an instant, but it was a blow like a bolt of lightning that had
come out of the air and struck his face and anguished his body.
He shook from head to toe, his fingers extended, and somehow he imagined sparks firing
out of his fingertips. His eyelids jittered and a fantastic flow of sweat broke out on his brow. He
gasped and could not breathe.
Lisabell stood back, surveying her creation: Douglas Spaulding, hit by lightning.