46xxxx (027) We Who Are About to Die (1st half)

Did you ever dream about being killed? Really? Yes, often. Who arranged for your death in those dreams?

Who? Dream figures. Yes, but who did the dreaming? Who actually killed you in your dreams? Don't you understand? You did it yourself. Midnight, in the witching hour, when the night is darkest, our fears, the strongest, gave open and the death.

You'll learn the answer in just a moment in me. We who are about to die. Murder at midnight. Tales of mystery and terror by radio's masters of the macabre. Our story by A.S. Guinness is.

We who are about to die. Five minutes, Dr. Boyd, psychiatrist, has been sitting behind his desk, waiting for Aram Hiller to speak. Finally, gently, he says, time is going by, Mr. Hiller. Perhaps if you lie down on the couch.

I'd rather not. I sit. I sit. But why? Most people prefer to lie down with that. No. Lying down. I'd be defenseless. I couldn't fight back. Defenseless? I told Mr. Hiller. I told him. I told him.

What? What? I told him. It's so hard to fight when you don't know whom you're fighting. Maybe if I begin with what's clearest in my mind, Doctor, the sharpest memory is Paul reading that poem found in a child's textbook.

That was a week ago. It was about nine o'clock at night and it was raining. The big country living room was chilly and damp. My wife, Fritzy, had just made one of those innocent remarks that managed to depress all four of us even more.

She stared at the calendar and said, Why her look, in two days the summer has flown away. We all knew it, but none of us wanted to hear it said. Fall for himself another drink.