{"id":27382,"date":"2026-04-05T23:10:32","date_gmt":"2026-04-06T03:10:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=27382"},"modified":"2026-04-05T23:10:34","modified_gmt":"2026-04-06T03:10:34","slug":"ray-bradbury-the-rocket","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/ray-bradbury-the-rocket\/27382\/","title":{"rendered":"Ray Bradbury: The Rocket"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis:<\/strong> \u201cThe Rocket\u201d is a science fiction story by American writer Ray Bradbury, published in March 1950 in the magazine Super Science Stories<\/em> and later included in the book The Illustrated Man<\/em> (1951). Fiorello Bodoni is a scrap dealer who is fascinated by the rockets streaking across the night sky and dreams of one day traveling to space. After years of sacrifice, he has managed to save enough money to pay for the trip for one member of his large family. But choosing who will fulfill that dream and who must stay on Earth soon turns the excitement into a painful dilemma.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"Ray<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The Rocket<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Ray Bradbury
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Many nights Fiorello Bodoni would awaken to hear the rockets sighing in the dark sky. He would tiptoe from bed, certain that his kind wife was dreaming, to let himself out into the night air. For a few moments he would be free of the smells of old food in the small house by the river. For a silent moment he would let his heart soar alone into space, following the rockets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now, this very night, he stood half naked in the darkness, watching the fire fountains murmuring in the air. The rockets on their long wild way to Mars and Saturn and Venus!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, well, Bodoni.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bodoni started.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On a milk crate, by the silent river, sat an old man who also watched the rockets through the midnight hush.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, it\u2019s you, Bramante!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you come out every night, Bodoni?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOnly for the air.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo? I prefer the rockets myself,\u201d said old Bramante. \u201cI was a boy when they started. Eighty years ago, and I\u2019ve never been on one yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI will ride up in one someday,\u201d said Bodoni.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFool!\u201d cried Bramante. \u201cYou\u2019ll never go. This is a rich man\u2019s world.\u201d He shook his gray head, remembering. \u201cWhen I was young they wrote it in fiery letters: THE WORLD OF THE FUTURE! Science, Comfort, and New Things for All! Ha! Eighty years. The Future becomes Now! Do we<\/em> fly rockets? No! We live in shacks like our ancestors before us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerhaps my sons<\/em>\u2014\u201d said Bodoni.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, nor their<\/em> sons!\u201d the old man shouted. \u201cIt\u2019s the rich who have dreams and rockets!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bodoni hesitated. \u201cOld man, I\u2019ve saved three thousand dollars. It took me six years to save it. For my business, to invest in machinery. But every night for a month now I\u2019ve been awake. I hear the rockets. I think. And tonight I\u2019ve made up my mind. One of us will fly to Mars!\u201d His eyes were shining and dark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIdiot,\u201d snapped Bramante. \u201cHow will you choose? Who will go? If you go, your wife will hate you, for you will be just a bit nearer God, in space. When you tell your amazing trip to her, over the years, won\u2019t bitterness gnaw at her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, no!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes! And your children? Will their lives be filled with the memory of Papa, who flew to Mars while they stayed here? What a senseless task you will set your boys. They will think of the rocket all their lives. They will lie awake. They will be sick with wanting it. Just as you are sick now. They will want to die if they cannot go. Don\u2019t set that goal, I warn you. Let them be content with being poor. Turn their eyes down to their hands and to your junkyard, not up to the stars.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSuppose your wife went? How would you feel, knowing she had seen<\/em> and you had not? She would become holy. You would think of throwing her in the river. No, Bodoni, buy a new wrecking machine, which you need, and pull your dreams apart with it, and smash them to pieces.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man subsided, gazing at the river in which, drowned, images of rockets burned down the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood night,\u201d said Bodoni.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSleep well,\u201d said the other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the toast jumped from its silver box, Bodoni almost screamed. The night had been sleepless. Among his nervous children, beside his mountainous wife, Bodoni had twisted and stared at nothing. Bramante was right. Better to invest the money. Why save it when only one of the family could ride the rocket, while the others remained to melt in frustration?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFiorello, eat your toast,\u201d said his wife, Maria.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy throat is shriveled,\u201d said Bodoni.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The children rushed in, the three boys fighting over a toy rocket, the two girls carrying dolls which duplicated the inhabitants of Mars, Venus, and Neptune, green mannequins with three yellow eyes and twelve fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI saw the Venus rocket!\u201d cried Paolo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt took off, whoosh<\/em>!\u201d hissed Antonello.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cChildren!\u201d shouted Bodoni, hands to his ears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They stared at him. He seldom shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bodoni arose. \u201cListen, all of you,\u201d he said. \u201cI have enough money to take one of us on the Mars rocket.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everyone yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou understand?\u201d he asked. \u201cOnly one<\/em> of us. Who?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMe, me, me!\u201d cried the children.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou,\u201d said Maria.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou,\u201d said Bodoni to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They all fell silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The children reconsidered. \u201cLet Lorenzo go\u2014he\u2019s oldest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLet Miriamne go\u2014she\u2019s a girl!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThink what you would see,\u201d said Bodoni\u2019s wife to him. But her eyes were strange. Her voice shook. \u201cThe meteors, like fish. The universe. The Moon. Someone should go who could tell it well on returning. You have a way with words.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNonsense. So have you,\u201d he objected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everyone trembled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHere,\u201d said Bodoni unhappily. From a broom he broke straws of various lengths. \u201cThe short straw wins.\u201d He held out his tight fist. \u201cChoose.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Solemnly each took his turn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLong straw.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLong straw.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLong straw.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The children finished. The room was quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two straws remained. Bodoni felt his heart ache in him. \u201cNow,\u201d he whispered. \u201cMaria.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She drew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe short straw,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh,\u201d sighed Lorenzo, half happy, half sad. \u201cMama goes to Mars.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bodoni tried to smile. \u201cCongratulations. I will buy your ticket today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWait, Fiorello\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can leave next week,\u201d he murmured.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She saw the sad eyes of her children upon her, with the smiles beneath their straight, large noses. She returned the straw slowly to her husband. \u201cI cannot go to Mars.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut why not?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI will be busy with another child.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She would not look at him. \u201cIt wouldn\u2019t do for me to travel in my condition.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He took her elbow. \u201cIs this the truth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDraw again. Start over.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me before?\u201d he said incredulously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaria, Maria,\u201d he whispered, patting her face. He turned to the children. \u201cDraw again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Paolo immediately drew the short straw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI go to Mars!\u201d He danced wildly. \u201cThank you, Father!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The other children edged away. \u201cThat\u2019s swell, Paolo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Paolo stopped smiling to examine his parents and his brothers and sisters. \u201cI can<\/em> go, can\u2019t I?\u201d he asked uncertainly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd you\u2019ll like<\/em> me when I come back?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Paolo studied the precious broomstraw on his trembling hand and shook his head. He threw it away. \u201cI forgot. School starts. I can\u2019t go. Draw again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But no one would draw. A full sadness lay on them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNone of us will go,\u201d said Lorenzo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s best,\u201d said Maria.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBramante was right,\u201d said Bodoni.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With his breakfast curdled within him, Fiorello Bodoni worked in his junkyard, ripping metal, melting it, pouring out usable ingots. His equipment flaked apart; competition had kept him on the insane edge of poverty for twenty years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a very bad morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the afternoon a man entered the junkyard and called up to Bodoni on his wrecking machine. \u201cHey, Bodoni, I got some metal for you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat is it, Mr. Mathews?\u201d asked Bodoni, listlessly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA rocket ship. What\u2019s wrong? Don\u2019t you want it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, yes!\u201d He seized the man\u2019s arm, and stopped, bewildered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d said Mathews, \u201cit\u2019s only a mockup. You<\/em> know. When they plan a rocket they build a full-scale model first, of aluminum. You might make a small profit boiling her down. Let you have her for two thousand\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bodoni dropped his hand. \u201cI haven\u2019t the money.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSorry. Thought I\u2019d help you. Last time we talked you said how everyone outbid you on junk. Thought I\u2019d slip this to you on the q.t. Well\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI need new equipment. I saved money for that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf I bought your rocket, I wouldn\u2019t even be able to melt it down. My aluminum furnace broke down last week\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI couldn\u2019t possibly use the rocket if I bought it from you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bodoni blinked and shut his eyes. He opened them and looked at Mr. Mathews. \u201cBut I am a great fool. I will take my money from the bank and give it to you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut if you can\u2019t melt the rocket down\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDeliver it,\u201d said Bodoni.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll right, if you say so. Tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTonight,\u201d said Bodoni, \u201cwould be fine. Yes, I would like to have a rocket ship tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a moon. The rocket was white and big in the junkyard. It held the whiteness of the moon and the blueness of the stars. Bodoni looked at it and loved all of it. He wanted to pet it and lie against it, pressing it with his cheek, telling it all the secret wants of his heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stared up at it. \u201cYou are all mine,\u201d he said. \u201cEven if you never move or spit fire, and just sit there and rust for fifty years, you are mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The rocket smelled of time and distance. It was like walking into a clock. It was finished with Swiss delicacy. One might wear it on one\u2019s watch fob. \u201cI might even sleep here tonight,\u201d Bodoni whispered excitedly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sat in the pilot\u2019s seat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He touched a lever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He hummed in his shut mouth, his eyes closed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The humming grew louder, louder, higher, higher, wilder, stranger, more exhilarating, trembling in him and leaning him forward and pulling him and the ship in a roaring silence and in a kind of metal screaming, while his fists flew over the controls, and his shut eyes quivered, and the sound grew and grew until it was a fire, a strength, a lifting and a pushing of power that threatened to tear him in half. He gasped. He hummed again and again, and did not stop, for it could not be stopped, it could only go on, his eyes tighter, his heart furious. \u201cTaking off!\u201d he screamed. The jolting concussion! The thunder!<\/em> \u201cThe Moon!\u201d he cried, eyes blind, tight. \u201cThe meteors!\u201d The silent rush in volcanic light. \u201cMars<\/em>. Oh, yes! Mars! Mars!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He fell back, exhausted and panting. His shaking hands came loose of the controls and his head tilted wildly. He sat for a long time, breathing out and in, his heart slowing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Slowly, slowly, he opened his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The junkyard was still there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sat motionless. He looked at the heaped piles of metal for a minute, his eyes never leaving them. Then, leaping up, he kicked the levers. \u201cTake off, blast you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ship was silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll show you!\u201d he cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Out in the night air, stumbling, he started the fierce motor of his terrible wrecking machine and advanced upon the rocket. He maneuvered the massive weights into the moonlit sky. He readied his trembling hands to plunge the weights, to smash, to rip apart this insolently false dream, this silly thing for which he had paid his money, which would not move, which would not do his bidding. \u201cI\u2019ll teach you!\u201d he shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But his hand stayed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The silver rocket lay in the light of the Moon. And beyond the rocket stood the yellow lights of his home, a block away, burning warmly. He heard the family radio playing some distant music. He sat for half an hour considering the rocket and the house lights, and his eyes narrowed and grew wide. He stepped down from the wrecking machine and began to walk, and as he walked he began to laugh, and when he reached the back door of his house he took a deep breath and called, \u201cMaria, Maria, start packing. We\u2019re going to Mars!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t believe<\/em> it!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou will, you will.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The children balanced in the windy yard, under the glowing rocket, not touching it yet. They started to cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maria looked at her husband. \u201cWhat have you done?\u201d she said. \u201cTaken our money for this? It will never fly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt will fly,\u201d he said, looking at it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRocket ships cost millions. Have you millions?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt will fly,\u201d he repeated steadily. \u201cNow, go to the house, all of you. I have phone calls to make, work to do. Tomorrow we leave! Tell no one, understand? It is a secret.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The children edged off from the rocket, stumbling. He saw their small, feverish faces in the house windows, far away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maria had not moved. \u201cYou have ruined us,\u201d she said. \u201cOur money used for this\u2014this thing. When it should have been spent on equipment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou will see,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without a word she turned away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGod help me,\u201d he whispered, and started to work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through the midnight hours trucks arrived, packages were delivered, and Bodoni, smiling, exhausted his bank account. With blowtorch and metal stripping he assaulted the rocket, added, took away, worked fiery magics and secret insults upon it. He bolted nine ancient automobile motors into the rocket\u2019s empty engine room. Then he welded the engine room shut, so none could see his hidden labor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At dawn he entered the kitchen. \u201cMaria,\u201d he said, \u201cI\u2019m ready for breakfast.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She would not speak to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At sunset he called to the children. \u201cWe\u2019re ready! Come on!\u201d The house was silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve locked them in the closet,\u201d said Maria.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll be killed in that rocket,\u201d she said. \u201cWhat kind of rocket can you buy for two thousand dollars? A bad one!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cListen to me, Maria.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt will blow up. Anyway, you are no pilot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNevertheless, I can fly this<\/em> ship. I have fixed it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou have gone mad,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere is the key to the closet?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have it here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He put out his hand. \u201cGive it to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She handed it to him. \u201cYou will kill them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, no.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, you will. I feel<\/em> it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stood before her. \u201cYou won\u2019t come along?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll stay here,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou will understand; you will see then,\u201d he said, and smiled. He unlocked the closet. \u201cCome, children. Follow your father.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood-bye, good-bye, Mama!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She stayed in the kitchen window, looking out at them, very straight and silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the door of the rocket the father said, \u201cChildren, this is a swift rocket. We will be gone only a short while. You must come back to school, and I to my business.\u201d He took each of their hands in turn. \u201cListen. This rocket is very old and will fly only one<\/em> more journey. It will not fly again. This will be the one trip of your life. Keep your eyes wide.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, Papa.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cListen, keep your ears clean. Smell the smells of a rocket. Feel. Remember<\/em>. So when you return you will talk of it all the rest of your lives.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, Papa.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ship was quiet as a stopped clock. The airlock hissed shut behind them. He strapped them all, like tiny mummies, into rubber hammocks. \u201cReady?\u201d he called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cReady!\u201d all replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBlast-off!\u201d He jerked ten switches. The rocket thundered and leaped. The children danced in their hammocks, screaming. \u201cWe\u2019re moving! We\u2019re off! Look!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHere comes the Moon!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The moon dreamed by. Meteors broke into fireworks. Time flowed away in a serpentine of gas. The children shouted. Released from their hammocks, hours later, they peered from the ports. \u201cThere\u2019s Earth!\u201d \u201cThere\u2019s Mars!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The rocket dropped pink petals of fire while the hour dials spun; the child eyes dropped shut. At last they hung like drunken moths in their cocoon hammocks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood,\u201d whispered Bodoni, alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He tiptoed from the control room to stand for a long moment, fearful, at the airlock door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pressed a button. The airlock door swung wide. He stepped out. Into space? Into the inky tides of meteor and gaseous torch? Into swift mileages and infinite dimensions?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No. Bodoni smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All about the quivering rocket lay the junkyard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rusting, unchanged, there stood the padlocked junkyard gate, the little silent house by the river, the kitchen window lighted, and the river going down to the same sea. And in the center of the junkyard, manufacturing a magic dream, lay the quivering, purring rocket. Shaking and roaring, bouncing the netted children like flies in a web.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maria stood in the kitchen window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He waved to her and smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He could not see if she waved or not. A small wave, perhaps. A small smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sun was rising.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bodoni withdrew hastily into the rocket. Silence. All still slept. He breathed easily. Tying himself into a hammock, he closed his eyes. To himself he prayed, Oh, let nothing happen to the illusion in the next six days. Let all of space come and go, and red Mars come up under our ship, and the moons of Mars, and let there be no flaws in the color film. Let there be three dimensions; let nothing go wrong with the hidden mirrors and screens that mold the fine illusion. Let time pass without crisis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He awoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Red Mars floated near the rocket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPapa!\u201d The children thrashed to be free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bodoni looked and saw red Mars and it was good and there was no flaw in it and he was very happy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At sunset on the seventh day the rocket stopped shuddering.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe are home,\u201d said Bodoni.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They walked across the junkyard from the open door of the rocket, their blood singing, their faces glowing. Perhaps they knew what he had done. Perhaps they guessed his wonderful magic trick. But if they knew, if they guessed, they never said. Now they only laughed and ran.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have ham and eggs for all of you,\u201d said Maria, at the kitchen door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMama, Mama, you should have come, to see it, to see Mars, Mama, and meteors, and everything!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At bedtime the children gathered before Bodoni. \u201cWe want to thank you, Papa.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt was nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe will remember it for always, Papa. We will never forget.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Very late in the night Bodoni opened his eyes. He sensed that his wife was lying beside him, watching him. She did not move for a very long time, and then suddenly she kissed his cheeks and his forehead. \u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d he cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re the best father in the world,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNow I see,\u201d she said. \u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She lay back and closed her eyes, holding his hand. \u201cIs it a very lovely journey?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerhaps,\u201d she said, \u201cperhaps, some night, you might take me on just a little trip, do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust a little one, perhaps,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d she said. \u201cGood night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood night,\u201d said Fiorello Bodoni.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cThe Rocket\u201d is a science fiction story by American writer Ray Bradbury, published in March 1950 in the magazine Super Science Stories and later included in the book *The Illustrated Man* (1951). Fiorello Bodoni is a scrap dealer who is fascinated by the rockets streaking across the night sky and dreams of one day traveling to space. After years of sacrifice, he has managed to save enough money to pay for the trip for one member of his large family. But choosing who will fulfill that dream and who must stay on Earth soon turns the excitement into a painful dilemma.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":27381,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[574,552,570],"class_list":["post-27382","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-ray-bradbury-en","tag-science-fiction","tag-united-states","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":574,"label":"Ray Bradbury"},{"value":552,"label":"Science fiction"},{"value":570,"label":"United States"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Ray-Bradbury-El-cohete.webp",768,768,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":414,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":414,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":574,"name":"Ray Bradbury","slug":"ray-bradbury-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":574,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":43,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":552,"name":"Science fiction","slug":"science-fiction","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":552,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":119,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":570,"name":"United States","slug":"united-states","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":570,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":290,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27382","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=27382"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27382\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27383,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27382\/revisions\/27383"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/27381"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=27382"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=27382"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=27382"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}