Between the deft descriptions of small events, and the conversations between Alice, the mother, and David, the father, there comes an unnerving, disturbing, alarming sense within. In fact, it catches the reader off guard. You have become frightened yourself.

Here, a younger Bradbury masters the tools of his craft. Tho the modern reader would want to look past the seemingly over-use of cigars and cigarettes and some antiquated forms of expression, the quality of effect that Bradbury wishes to engulf the reader has endured thru the years.

Are the later conversations between David and Dr. Jeffers simply Bradbury weavings to describe the elemental nature of man? Or is this new born baby, upon whom the story revolves, truly one in a billion?

Leave a comment to the story