Stories by Ray Bradbury. The full list



Dark Carnival, 1947

The Illustrated Man, 1951

The Golden Apples of the Sun, 1953

The October Country, 1955

A Medicine For Melancholy, 1959

R Is For Rocket, 1962

The Machineries of Joy, 1964

The Vintage Bradbury, 1965

S Is For Space, 1966

I Sing the Body Electric, 1969

Long After Midnight, 1976

The Stories of Ray Bradbury, 1980

Истории о динозаврах, 1983

A Memory of Murder, 1984

The Toynbee Convector, 1988

Quicker Than The Eye, 1996

Driving Blind, 1997

One More for the Road, 2002

Bradbury Stories: 100 of His Most Celebrated Tales, 2003

The Cat's Pajamas, 2004

Summer Morning, Summer Night, 2007

Masks, 2008

We'll always have Paris, 2009

Сборник редких рассказов, 2009

We Are the Carpenters of an Invisible Cathedral, 2016

Механический Хэппи-Лэнд, 2019


The Parrot Who Met Papa, 1972

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Pater Caninus, 2009

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Payment in Full, 1950

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The Pedestrian, 1951

To enter out into that silence that was the city at eight o'clock of a misty evening in November, to put your feet upon that buckling concrete walk, to step over grassy seams and make your way, hands in pockets, through the silences, that was what Mr.Leonard Mead most dearly loved to do. He would stand upon the comer of an intersection and peer down long moonlit avenues of sidewalk in four directions, deciding which way to go, but it really made no difference; he was alone in this world of 2053 A.D., or as good as alone, and with a final decision made, a path selected, he would stride off, sending patterns of frosty air before him like the smoke of a cigar.

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Pendulum (co-authored with Henry Hasse), 1941

Prisoner of Time was he,
outlawed from Life and Death alike the strange,
brooding creature who watched the ages roll by
and waited half fearfully for - eternity?

"I THINK,"; shrilled Erjas, "that this is our most intriguing discovery on any of the worlds we have yet visited!";

His wide, green-shimmering wings fluttered, his beady bird eyes flashed excitement. His several companions bobbed their heads in agreement, the greenish-gold down on their slender necks ruffling softly. They were perched on what had once been amoving sidewalk but was now only a twisted ribbon of wreckage overlooking the vast expanse of a ruined city.

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The People with Seven Arms, 2007

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Perchance to Dream (Asleep in Armageddon), 1948

You don't want death and you don't expect death. Something goes wrong, your rocket tilts in space, a planetoid jumps up, blackness, movement, hands over the eyes, a violent pulling back of available powers in the forejets, the crash.

The darkness. In the darkness, the senseless pain. In the pain, the nightmare.

He was not unconscious.

Your name? asked hidden voices. Sale, he replied in whirling nausea. Leonard Sale. Occupation? cried the voices. Space man! he cried, alone in the night. Welcome, said the voices. Welcome, welcome. They faded.

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Perhaps We Are Going Away, 1953

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A Piece of Wood, 1952

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Pieta Summer, 2009

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Pilgrimage, 1999

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Pillar of Fire, 1948

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The Piper, 1940

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The Playground, 1952

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The Poems, 1945

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Powerhouse, 1948

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The Projector, 2007

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Prologue: The Illustrated Man, 1951

It was a warm afternoon in early September when I first met the Illustrated Man. Walking along an asphalt road, I was on the final long of a two weeks' walking tour of Wisconsin. Late in the afternoon I stopped, ate some pork, beans, and a doughnut, and was preparing to stretch out and read when the Illustrated Man walked over the hill and stood for a moment against the sky.

I didn't know he was Illustrated then. I only know that he was tall, once well muscled, but now, for some reason, going to fat. I recall that his arms were long, and the hands thick, but that his face was like a child's, set upon a massive body.

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Promises, Promises, 1988

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Promotion to Satellite, 1942

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The Pumpernickel, 1951

Mr. and Mrs. Welles walked away from the movie theater late at night and went into the quiet little store, a combination restaurant and delicatessen. They settled in a booth, and Mrs. Welles said, "Baked ham on pumpernickel." Mr. Welles glanced toward the counter, and there lay a loaf of pumpernickel.

"Why," he murmured, "pumpernickel. . . Druce's Lake. . ."

The night, the late hour, the empty restaurant - by now the pattern was familiar. Anything could set him off on a ride of reminiscences. The scent of autumn leaves, or midnight winds blowing, could stir him from himself, and memories would pour around him. Now in the unreal hour after the theater, in this lonely store, he saw a loaf of pumpernickel bread and, as on a thousand other nights, he found himself moved into the past.

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Punishment Without Crime, 1950

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