I wasn’t much of a reader as a kid. I barely remember my mom reading a book to me, and my dad never did. I was not a strong reader, so reading for fun was a challenge.

Back in the 1960s, Bolton Elementary would hold its annual “Book Fair.”  Scattered on numerous tables in the cafeteria would be hundreds of books. The huge selection allowed for any interest of a grammar school kid.  Some of the displayed books had stickers to denote “scholastic pick.” These designated books were the ones my mom would have approved.

Like any other 3rd-grade boy, my interest was in monster books and science fiction stories. No HARDY BOYS, CALL OF THE WILD, or OLD YELLER for me. Additionally, I always had an eye out for a Brady Bunch, Batman, or Monkees book, but they never materialized.

Books, books everywhere. In the midst of the crowded tables, one particular book was demanding my attention. It was titled MAROONED ON MARS. Whoa. The cover alone was terrifying. It only took a moment to know that this book was going home with me. I grabbed the book quickly before the onslaught of other delighted 10-year-old boys struggled for their own copy.

After raking leaves for Dad, Mom called me in for dinner.  As I sat at the table, my mind was in hyper-anticipation for a flight to Mars. Usually, my Mom’s liver and onions dinner would be picked at and shuffled around my plate. But not tonight. I ate every crumb in record time as if this was my first meal in months.

“Can I be excused??!” I blurted out with the last gulp of milk. I couldn’t get to my room quickly enough.

Up to my room I ran, two steps at a time. I jumped up onto my bed, ready to be consumed by rocket ships, hapless astronauts, Martians, and monsters. Everything was perfect. I forgot to shut my door, and after doing so, returned to my bed launching myself air bound 3-4 feet before the bed. (Well out of the reach of monsters under my bed.)

Finally, alone and in silence, I held it. This was going to be the GREATEST MONSTER BOOK I WOULD EVER READ. This was “the” moment and I was ready to be emerged in the science fiction world of the macabre. Everything was perfect.

Chapter one…

chapter two…

chapter three…. oh, oh

chapter four…

wait a minute….

Sheer terror captivated my entire being. The story proved to be more than I anticipated.  I frantically looked around. I can’t do this! Did I just hear a sound? Is that tapping I hear on my outside bedroom window?!

In extreme horror, I RAN to my desk and shoved the book in the top drawer. I pushed it way in the back, being sure its cover was face down. I swore I would never make eye contact with that book again! I relaunched myself onto my bed from easily SIX feet away this time.

That book has scarred me for life. I slept that night deep under the covers, certain there were wood scratching sounds coming from within my desk.

Recently, I made a quick search on eBay and located this book. I searched under the remembered book title, having no idea who the author might have been. If I saw it, I knew I would recognize it.

I saw it. Right away. Etched in my memory, now 55 years later. There it was.

No, I did NOT buy it.

If I had purchased it, I am certain it would find its way back into the top drawer of my desk… LOCKED!