Read Online A Medicine for Melancholy and Other Stories by Ray Bradbury - Free Book Online

of the boy. He tapped his thin chest, took his pulse and temperature. “Absolutely amazing! Normal. Normal, by God!”
    â€œI shall never be sick again in my life,” declared the boy, quietly, standing there, looking out the wide window. “Never.”
    â€œI hope not. Why, you’re looking fine, Charles.”
    â€œDoctor?”
    â€œYes, Charles?”
    â€œCan I go to school now? ” asked Charles.
    â€œTomorrow will be time enough. You sound positively eager.”
    â€œI am. I like school. All the kids. I want to play with them and wrestle with them, and spit on them and play with the girls’ pigtails and shake the teacher’s hand, and rub my hands on all the cloaks in the cloakroom, and I want to grow up and travel and shake hands with people all over the world, and be married and have lots of children, and go to libraries and handle books and— all of that I want to!” said the boy, looking off into the September morning. “What’s the name you called me?”
    â€œWhat?” The doctor puzzled. “I called you nothing but Charles.”
    â€œIt’s better than no name at all, I guess.” The boy shrugged.
    â€œI’m glad you want to go back to school,” said the doctor.
    â€œI really anticipate it,” smiled the boy. “Thank you for your help, Doctor. Shake hands.”
    â€œGlad to.”
    They shook hands gravely, and the clear wind blew through the open window. They shook hands for almost a minute, the boy smiling up at the old man and thanking him.
    Then, laughing, the boy raced the doctor downstairs and out to his car. His mother and father followed for the happy farewell.
    â€œFit as a fiddle!” said the doctor. “Incredible!”
    â€œAnd strong,” said the father. “He got out of his straps himself during the night. Didn’t you, Charles?”
    â€œDid I?” said the boy.
    â€œYou did! How?”
    â€œOh,” the boy said, “that was a long time ago.”
    â€œA long time ago!”
    They all laughed, and while they were laughing, the quiet boy moved his bare foot on the sidewalk and merely touched, brushed against a number of red ants that was scurrying about on the sidewalk. Secretly, his eyes shining, while his parents chatted with the old man, he saw the ants hesitate, quiver, and lie still on the cement. He sensed they were cold now.
    â€œGood-by!”
    The doctor drove away, waving.
    The boy walked ahead of his parents. As he walked he looked away toward the town and began to hum “School Days” under his breath.
    â€œIt’s good to have him well again,” said the father.
    â€œListen to him. He’s so looking forward to school!”
    The boy turned quietly. He gave each of his parents a crushing hug. He kissed them both several times.
    Then without a word he bounded up the steps into the house.
    In the parlor, before the others entered, he quickly opened the bird cage, thrust his hand in, and petted the yellow canary, once .
    Then he shut the cage door, stood back, and waited.

The Marriage Mender
    I n the sun the headboard was like a fountain, tossing up plumes of clear light. It was carved with lions and gargoyles and bearded goats. It was an awe-inspiring object even at midnight, as Antonio sat on the bed and unlaced his shoes and put his large calloused hand out to touch its shimmering harp. Then he rolled over into this fabulous machine for dreaming, and he lay breathing heavily, his eyes beginning to close.
    â€œEvery night,” his wife’s voice said, “we sleep in the mouth of a calliope.”
    Her complaint shocked him. He lay a long while before daring to reach up his hard-tipped fingers to stroke the cold metal of the intricate headboard, the threads of this lyre that had sung many wild and beautiful songs down the years.
    â€œThis is no calliope,” he said.
    â€œIt cries like one,” Maria said. “A