THE WATCHERS

<br /> <br /> <strong>THE WATCHERS<br /> <br /> At nine o’clock Earth seemed to explode, catch fire, and burn. The people on the porches put up their hands as if to beat the fire out. They waited. By midnight the fire was extinguished. Earth was still there. There was a sigh, like an autumn wind, from the porches. They could read the great Morse-code flashes which flickered like a distant firefly: AUSTRALIAN CONTINENT ATOMIZED IN PREMATURE EXPLOSION OF ATOMIC STOCKPILE. LOS ANGELES, LONDON BOMBED. WAR. COME HOME. COME HOME. COME HOME. They stood up from their tables. COME HOME. COME HOME. COME HOME. “Have you heard from your brother Ted this year?” “You know. With mail rates five bucks a letter to Earth, I don’t write much.” COME HOME Ray Bradbury. THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES</strong><br /> <br /> THE WATCHERS At nine o’clock Earth seemed to explode, catch fire, and burn. The people on the porches put up their hands as if to beat the fire out. They waited. By midnight the fire was extinguished. Earth was still there. There was a sigh, like an autumn wind, from the porches. They could read the great Morse-code flashes which flickered like a distant firefly: AUSTRALIAN CONTINENT ATOMIZED IN PREMATURE EXPLOSION OF ATOMIC STOCKPILE. LOS ANGELES, LONDON BOMBED. WAR. COME HOME. COME HOME. COME HOME. They stood up from their tables. COME HOME. COME HOME. COME HOME. “Have you heard from your brother Ted this year?” “You know. With mail rates five bucks a letter to Earth, I don’t write much.” COME HOME Ray Bradbury. THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES