"Night Call"

 

Ring ring. It's your nightmares.

“Night Call”
Season Five, Episode 139
Original Air Date: February 7, 1964 

Cast:
Elva Keene: Gladys Cooper
Margaret Phillips: Nora Marlowe
Miss Finch: Martine Bartlett
Voice of Brian Douglas: Ken Drake

Crew:
Writer: Richard Matheson (based on his story “Long Distance Call”)
Director: Jacques Tourneur
Producer: Bert Granet
Director of Photography: Robert W. Pittack
Production Manager: Ralph W. Nelson
Art Direction: George W. Davis and Walter Holscher
Film Editor: Richard Heermance
Set Decoration: Henry Grace and Robert R Benton
Assistant Director: Charles Bonniwell, Jr.
Casting: Patricia Rose
Music: Stock
Sound: Franklin Milton and Philip N. Mitchell
Mr. Serling’s Wardrobe: Eagle Clothes
Filmed at MGM Studios

And Now, Mr. Serling:

“Next time out on The Twilight Zone, Richard Matheson provides us with a tour-de-force in suspense and the unexpected with a show called ‘Night Call.’ It stars one of the most eminent actresses of our time, Miss Gladys Cooper, and it poses the kind of question that arises when a telephone keeps ringing and you realize that the caller has not been on Earth for a number of years. I hope this intrigues because I think the show will. Next time out, ‘Night Call.’”

Rod Serling’s Opening Narration:

“Miss Elva Keene lives alone on the outskirts of London Flats, a tiny rural community in Maine. Up until now, the pattern of Miss Keene’s existence has been that of lying in her bed or sitting in her wheelchair reading books, listening to the radio, eating, napping, taking medicine and waiting for something different to happen. Miss Keene doesn’t know it yet, but her period of waiting has just ended, for something different is about to happen to her, and has in fact already begun to happen, via two most unaccountable telephone calls in the middle of a stormy night. Telephone calls routed directly through…the Twilight Zone.”

Summary:

Elva Keene lives alone in a small house in a rural community in Maine. Wheelchair bound, the elderly Miss Keene is attended to by her caretaker, Margaret, during the day. One night, during a particularly devastating storm, Elva Keene is awoken by the ringing of her telephone. It is two in the morning. She picks up the receiver and hears only static. Figuring it a bad connection, she hangs ups. Seconds later, the phone rings again. She picks it up. Just jumbled static. Confused and shaken, she hangs up.

The next morning, Keene dials the local operator to inquire about the strange phone calls. The operator informs her that it may have just been a faulty connection due to the storm and that, for the moment, the calls are not able to be traced due to the aftermath of the storm. Miss Finch, the operator, tells her that if the calls continue, to let her know. Later that day, she receives another call. Like before, she is unable to hear anyone on the other end. She calls the operator again.

That night, she receives another call. “Hello,” she says. A deep, anguished moaning seeps from the receiver. A man’s voice. “Hello,” she says. “Hello,” the voice responds. Frightened, she drops the receiver. The next morning, she tells Miss Finch about the call but it is apparent that she does not believe her. Miss Finch tells her that she will have someone check the line.

Later that day, Miss Keene receives another call. Margaret tells her to keep the phone off the hook until she needs to make a call. That night, she attempts to take Margaret’s advice, but the dial tone is too loud. She places the receiver back on the hook. The phone rings immediately. She answers it. “Where are you? I want to talk to you?” the voice repeats on a loop. “Leave me alone!” she screams at the voice.

The next day, Miss Finch calls Miss Keene and tells her that they were able to trace the calls to a fallen wire just outside of town. At a cemetery.

Margaret drives Miss Keene to Valley View Cemetery. Keene instructs her where to go. They stop at the grave of Brian Douglas, who died in 1932. There is a fallen phone line spliced open on top of the grave site. Keene then reveals that this is the grave of her fiancé who died in a car accident a week before they were to be married. Keene describes her younger self as a demanding young woman who was very controlling of her fiancé. Against his advice, she was driving the car that night in 1932 when she lost control and smashed into a tree, killing her fiancé and paralyzing herself. She realizes now that Brian is trying to communicate with her. Maybe now she will not feel so alone.

That night, no longer frightened, Elva Keene picks up the receiver, anxious to speak with her long-departed love. After an eternity she hears a voice. “You said leave you alone,” the voice says. “I always do what you say.” The line goes dead. She begs Brian to come back but her efforts are in vain. The line is quiet, and Elva Keene is all alone.

Rod Serling’s Closing Narration:

“According to the Bible, God created the heavens and the Earth. It is man’s prerogative, and woman’s, to create their own particular and private Hell. Case in point, Miss Elva Keene, who in every sense has made her own bed and now must lie in it, sadder but wiser, by dint of a rather painful lesson in responsibility. Transmitted...from the Twilight Zone.”

Commentary:

Writer Richard Matheson’s penultimate episode of The Twilight Zone continues what is arguably his most successful and most productive season of the show’s five year run. Thus far into the show’s final season he had seen his stories, “Steel” and “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet,” made into highly acclaimed episodes of the show, the former being his personal favorite episode of the show, and the latter eventually becoming the most well-known episode of the show, and by extension, one of the most famous moments in television history. With “Night Call” Matheson would get to work with a director he had long admired, Jacques Tourneur, to produce another of his favorite episodes of the show. He would see just one more of his scripts produced on the show, “Spur of the Moment.” Matheson saw more of his scripts produced during the final season than in any of the previous four seasons. A fifth script, “The Doll,” was purchased by producer Bert Granet and was slated for production but was later cut from the production schedule by incoming producer William Froug after Granet left the show for a position on the CBS series The Great Adventure. “The Doll” was later made into an episode of Amazing Stories in 1986 by director Phil Joanou. It starred John Lithgow as a lonely bachelor who buys a doll for his niece’s birthday but ends up becoming captivated by it. Lithgow won his first Emmy Award for his performance and Matheson was nominated for a Writers Guild of America Award for his script. No reason was given for not going forward with the production. It could possibly be that there had already been a highly acclaimed episode called “Living Doll” earlier in the season but, given that Froug also cancelled production on teleplays by writers Charles Beaumont and Jerry Sohl, it’s likely that he simply wanted to bring in new writers and take the show in a different direction. Whether or not Matheson would have continued to submit new teleplays for the show’s sixth season, had it been renewed, is a question lost to history. But with four memorable episodes during its fifth and final season, Matheson would exit the show on a high note.

Famously, “Night Call” was originally slated to air the night of Friday, November 22, 1963 but was postponed, as all scheduled programing on network television was, after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in Dallas earlier that day. Instead, due to the particularly grim nature of the episode, they bumped it to February 7, 1964.

Matheson originally published this story under the editor-chosen title of “Sorry, Right Number” in the November, 1953 issue of Beyond Fantasy Fiction. It later appeared in his collection, Shock! (Dell, 1961) under his preferred title of “Long Distance Call.” The title was changed again after Matheson’s teleplay was purchased by producer Bert Granet because the show had already aired an episode called “Long Distance Call,” written by Charles Beaumont and Bill Idelson, during its second season. The title was changed to “Night Call,” this time with Matheson’s approval.

The first half of Matheson’s teleplay is faithful to his story almost down to each line of dialogue, but the end of the episode differs significantly from its source material. The stories are the same up until the scene where Elva Keene is informed that the calls are coming from a severed line located at a cemetery on the edge of town. The scene then abruptly ends. The next, final scene sees Miss Keene alone in her bed that night, petrified with fear. Finally, the phone rings and, feeling as if she must, she picks it up. “Hello, Miss Elva,” the voice on the other end says. “I’ll be right over.” End story. There is no fiancé and there is no trip to the cemetery. Miss Keene is never really given any kind of backstory, so the reader is not persuaded into feeling any kind of sympathy for her.

Matheson was well known for not favoring changes to his material but in this instance the change came from Matheson himself. He told editor Stanley Wiater that he felt his original ending was too morbid and that he preferred the ending of the episode because it made the story more of a character study. The ending of the original story is fun and ghastly, à la Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, but the updated ending gives the main character a lot more depth and leaves the viewer with a sense of devastation at the loss that she has suffered. Matheson is not simply setting the audience up for a punch at the end of the episode. There is a punch, of course, in the scene in which the operator tells Miss Keene that the call is coming from the cemetery. But this comes only midway through the episode. There is an entire act that follows. Matheson delivers the shock that the audience is expecting early so he can make the real jolt the tragedy that is Elva Keene’s doomed, unhappy existence.

There is debate among fans as to whether Miss Keene deserves her unfortunate fate. Matheson does not appear to insinuate one way or another. He does provide clues throughout the episode that give the audience a glimpse into the kind of life she has lived and into her wants and insecurities. She is a demanding person with an abrasive personality, a trait that she appears to be, at least on some level, ashamed of. She was behind the wheel the night her fiancé was killed because she demanded to be. But she was also permanently injured and has had to live with the knowledge that she was responsible for his death her entire life. One would think that she is entitled to at least some sympathy. But, as it appears, Matheson is implying that sympathy cannot change the past.

“Night Call” was directed by legendary French director Jacques Tourneur, whom Matheson personally requested for this episode. Tourneur had been directing films for thirty years at this point and was noted for his highly atmospheric style, having helped pioneer the black and white aesthetic that would become known as film noir. He was the son of famed director Maurice Tourneur and started working in the industry while still in high school. He and his father moved back and forth between Hollywood and France so Tourneur became familiar with both American and French filmmaking. He first made a name for himself as a director of low-budget horror films for RKO under legendary producer Val Lewton. For Lewton, Tourneur directed the iconic horror film Cat People in 1942 and followed it with I Walked with a Zombie and The Leopard Man in 1943. After this, Tourneur was promoted to A-list pictures at RKO. In 1947, he directed the film noir, Out of the Past, further cementing his reputation as a reliable and creatively ambitious director. He eventually left RKO for a freelance career. His other films include Stars in My Crown (1950), Nightfall (1956), and Night of the Demon (1957).

When asked by producer Bert Granet which directors he would like to see direct some of his Twilight Zone episodes, Matheson’s only answer was Jacques Tourneur. Granet was initially hesitant because Tourneur was a film director and had limited experience directing episodic television—this was not entirely true as Tourneur had, by this point, directed many episodes of The Californians and several other half-hour episodic series, but he was an older director who was still relatively new to television so Granet had doubts about Tourneur being able to complete production on time. The two had actually worked together years before on the film Berlin Express in 1948. As it turned out, according to Matheson, Tourneur completed production in less than thirty hours, making “Night Call” one of the shortest production schedules of the entire series. 

Cat People
(1942)

Matheson had been a longtime admirer of Tourneur’s and of Val Lewton’s. As a teenager, he wrote letters to Lewton telling him how much he enjoyed his films, particularly Cat People. When Matheson was brought in to pitch his idea for The Birds to director Alfred Hitchcock he used Cat People as an example of his approach to the script. He felt not showing the birds would make them scarier, as it had with the cats in Tourneur’s film. Needless to say, Hitchcock did not agree with his approach and ended up using over three thousand live birds in his film. To his delight, Matheson got to work with Tourneur twice in less than a year. In 1963, Tourneur directed the Matheson-penned horror spoof, The Comedy of Terrors, for American International Pictures, for whom Matheson had just scripted four films in Roger Corman’s Edgar Allan Poe cycle.

Tourneur brings an overtly noir sensibility to Matheson’s script, with elements of his horror background on display as well. The daytime scenes are shot traditionally with lots of lighting but the night scenes contain lots of interesting atmosphere, including a cool shot of the shadows of branches reflected on Gladys Cooper’s face as they sway in the wind just outside the window. The loud, abrasive ring of the telephone is also a very jarring and effective device. What gives these scenes such an unforgettably disturbing quality is the sound of the voice on the phone (voiced by Ken Drake) which increases in cognizance every time Miss Keene answers the phone. The pacing of these scenes, and the increase in Elva Keene’s dread, is what stays with the audience after the episode is over. It is unfortunate that Tourneur directed only a single episode, his aesthetic fits the show perfectly.

Gladys Cooper returns for the third and final time on The Twilight Zone. She previously appeared in the season three episode “Nothing in the Dark” giving a most remarkable performance. She also appears in a supporting role in the season four episode “Passage on the Lady Anne.” Cooper rose to fame on stage in London’s West End, occasionally appearing on Broadway and in early British films as well. She moved to Hollywood in 1940 at the age of 52 and found immediate success. Her first role in her new home was in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca in 1940. In 1942 she appeared as a dominating matriarch in what is probably her most famous role in Irving Rapper’s Now, Voyager. Other roles include The Song of Bernadette (1943), The Bishop’s Wife (1947), The Secret Garden (1949), and My Fair Lady (1964). She was nominated three times for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress.

Her performance here is incredible. Cooper was known for playing strong, often domineering women. Both of her leading roles on The Twilight Zone often showcase this ability although they are also very anxious, frightened characters as well. Her ability to balance both of these emotions is done seamlessly. In contrast, her supporting role in the hour-long “Passage on the Lady Anne” displays a light, amiable side and is just as believable. All three of her episodes concern old age, a subject the show would return to again and again.

Nora Marlowe appeared previously on the show in the season two episode “Back There.” She was often cast as nurses, nuns, and housekeepers. She had bit roles in the films An Affair to Remember (1957), North by Northwest (1959), The Thomas Crown Affair (1968), and Soylent Green (1973). She was a prolific presence in episodic television of the era but today she is probably best remembered for her recurring role as Flossie Brimmer on The Waltons.

Martine Bartlett was also active in television during the 1960s including a role in the miniseries Sybil in 1976. Her most recognizable role was as Miss Metcalf in Elia Kazan’s Splendor in the Grass (1961). 

Ken Drake appeared in numerous television series including dozens of appearances on Sea Hunt and a short-lived leading role on the crime series Not for Hire opposite Ralph Meeker.

“Night Call” may seem like an atypical episode to some, given its macabre sensibilities, but it’s still an enjoyable one and it’s one of the best offerings of the show’s fifth season. Matheson’s script is trimmed and crafted to perfection, Tourneur’s pacing and atmosphere are highly effective, and Gladys Cooper turns in a remarkable performance as the controlling but insecure Elva Keene. It comes recommended.

Grade: A

Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following:

The Twilight Zone Scripts of Richard Matheson, Vol.2, edited Stanley Wiater (Edge Books, 2002)

Richard Matheson: Collected Stories, Vol. 1, edited by Stanley Wiater (Gauntlet Press, 2003)

The Twilight Zone: Unlocking the Door to a Television Classic by Martin Grams, Jr. (OTR, 2008)

The Twilight Zone Companion by Marc Scott Zicree (3rd ed., Silman-James Press, 2018)

Internet Speculative Fiction Database

Internet Movie Database

Wikipedia

Notes:

__Richard Matheson first published this story under the title “Sorry, Right Number” (editor’s title) in the November, 1953 issue of Beyond Fantasy Fiction. It was later collected in his collection of short fiction, Shock! (Dell, 1961), under his preferred title, “Long Distance Call.” It is currently available in his collections Nightmare at 20,000 Feet (Tor, 2002) and The Best of Richard Matheson (Penguin Books, 2017).

__Matheson’s script for this episode can be found in Richard Matheson’s The Twilight Zone Scripts, Vol. 2 (Gauntlet Press, 2002) edited by Stanley Wiater.

__Gladys Cooper also appeared in the season three episode “Nothing in the Dark” and the season four episode “Passage on the Lady Anne.”

__Nora Marlowe also appeared in the season two episode “Back There.”

__Ken Drake also appeared in season two’s “A Hundred Yards Over the Rim” and season five’s “A Kind of a Stopwatch.”

__“Night Call” was adapted into a Twilight Zone Radio Drama by author Dennis Etchison in 2009. It stars Mariette Hartley and was directed by Carl Amari and Roger Wolski.

 

Brian

Stories that Would Have Made Great Episodes of The Twilight Zone

Imagining a Sixth Season of the Series

Gary Merrill and Vaughn Taylor in "Still Valley," Rod Serling's adaptation of Manly Wade Wellman's story "The Valley Was Still" (1939)

Many memorable episodes of The Twilight Zone originated as adaptations of previously published stories, selected from magazines like Astounding, Galaxy, Unknown, and The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. For a complete list of these adaptations, see The Vortex Library.

Viewers of the series have likely imagined which stories the series might have adapted had it continued for a sixth season. There are dozens, perhaps hundreds, of stories published before 1964 that might have made memorable transitions to The Twilight Zone. This is a list of stories I feel would have made excellent or interesting episodes of that imagined sixth season. Not considered are stories which were slated to be adapted for the series but were shelved before production. These “lost” episodes will be covered in another post later on.

On average, seven previously published stories were adapted per season. Nine stories were adapted for the first season, while only one, Charles Beaumont’s “The Howling Man,” was adapted for season two. The third, fourth, and fifth seasons each saw six stories adapted. This list comprises fourteen stories for an imagined sixth season, evenly split between writers new to the series and those previously adapted or who wrote for the series.

I’ve tried to select stories along the lines of the major themes and characteristics of the series. The adaptation of some stories would have taken a certain amount of ingenuity on the part of the production team, but I have tried to select stories which could be produced in 1964-65 in terms of production design and visual effects.

There are several writers whose work I considered but ultimately did not include, such as Jack Finney, Mildred Clingerman, J.B. Priestley, William F. Nolan, Philip K. Dick, Thomas Burke, Theodore Sturgeon, Gerald Kersh, Stanley Ellin, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., Zenna Henderson, Harlan Ellison, Walter M. Miller, Jr., Arthur C. Clarke, Davis Grubb, and Fredric Brown. There are also writers left out who were adapted on the series and wrote additional stories that would have made great episodes, particularly Damon Knight, George Clayton Johnson, John Collier, Jerome Bixby, and Malcolm Jameson.

Let me know in the comments your favorite stories from this era that you think would have made great episodes of The Twilight Zone.

Spoiler warning: Plot details are given below.

 

Writers Who Did Not Feature on the Series:

1. “Mariana” by Fritz Leiber 

First publication: Fantastic Science Fiction Stories (February, 1960)

Illustration by Carol Wald for Out of This World ed. Arthur Daigon and William J. Gannon, Jr. (Prentice-Hall, 1977)

Summary:

Mariana dislikes living in her automated country house with her husband, Jonathan. She discovers a secret panel on the house's master control unit, despite Jonathan's warnings not to tamper with it. The first switch on the panel is labeled "TREES.” Jonathan, unconcerned, explains that "radio trees" are projected into their yard, and that the science behind it would go over Mariana’s head.

Disregarding his explanation, Mariana flips the “TREES” switch, causing the foliage to vanish and revealing the stark reality: an endless, desolate landscape of gray rock. The switch won't reactivate. Jonathan, surprisingly calm but blaming Mariana, examines the unit. Now, the "HOUSE" switch is lit. Mariana flips it, and the house wavers and disappears, leaving them stranded on the desolate rock, with only the secret panel remaining. Jonathan, enraged, attacks her. The "JONATHAN" switch lights up, and Mariana flips it, causing him to vanish.

Alone in the vast emptiness, Mariana switches off the next switch, "STARS," plunging herself into absolute darkness. Her luminous watch reveals the fifth switch: "DOCTOR." She flips it and finds herself in a sterile hospital bed. A voice explains she's ended her "wish-fulfillment therapy" but can continue if she desires. Holding the control panel, Mariana, now frightened, flips the "DOCTOR" switch off, returning to the bleak shelf of rock where her home once stood. Relieved, she sees the sixth and final switch: "MARIANA."

Commentary:

It's curious that Fritz Leiber (1910-1992) was not adapted for The Twilight Zone, considering he was one of the era's most celebrated and prolific science fiction and fantasy writers. Twilight Zone writers Richard Matheson and Charles Beaumont both cited Leiber’s 1943 witchcraft novel Conjure Wife as their favorite fantasy novel and collaborated on its screenplay adaptation. The result was the 1962 British film Night of the Eagle, released in the U.S. as Burn, Witch, Burn.

Two of Leiber’s stories were adapted for Rod Serling’s Night Gallery: “The Dead Man,” from the first season, and “The Girl with the Hungry Eyes,” from the third season. “The Dead Man,” adapted by Douglas Heyes, director of several fine Twilight Zone episodes, is excellent. Leiber’s surreal story “Mariana” is in the mode of such Twilight Zone episodes as “The Hitch-Hiker,” “Mirror Image,” “The After Hours,” and “The Lateness of the Hour,” which featured rational, independent women isolated and challenged by strange occurrences. Given the strength of performers on the series like Inger Stevens, Anne Francis, and Vera Miles, “Mariana” would have offered a strong showcase for a young actress.

2. “One Ordinary Day, with Peanuts” by Shirley Jackson 

First publication: The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction (January, 1955)

Illustration by Paula Goodman for Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone Magazine (July/August, 1984)

Summary:

Mr. John Philip Johnson leaves his home in the morning feeling fine. He tells everyone he passes “good morning” on his walk to the nearby newsstand. He buys a newspaper and fills his pockets with candy and peanuts. He purchases a carnation for his buttonhole but gives the flower to a small child, smiling. He helps a struggling mother with her child, sets two stressed people up on a date, and even pays for a homeless man’s lunch. He feeds peanuts to the pigeons (and everyone else), gives away all his candy, and helps a taxi driver place a winning bet on the horse races before heading home at day's end. There, he greets his wife and asks her how her day went. Mrs. Johnson informs him of all the trouble she caused that day, filing complaints, leveling false accusations, and sending dogs to the Pound. Mr. Johnson notes that she looks tired and asks if she would like to switch roles tomorrow. Mrs. Johnson says that she would, and they sit down to dinner.

Commentary:

Shirley Jackson (1916-1965), the celebrated author of The Haunting of Hill House (1959) and We Have Always Lived in the Castle (1962), was a master of the ambiguously strange story. Jackson’s tale of the odd Mr. Johnson, and his equally odd wife, is in the mode of such Twilight Zone episodes as “Mr. Bevis,” “Mr. Dingle, the Strong,” or “A Kind of Stopwatch,” but with a decidedly darker twist. “One Ordinary Day, with Peanuts” was selected for The Best American Short Stories for 1956. It is one of Jackson’s most reprinted stories. It frequently appears in anthologies of fantasy and science fiction, although it contains no fantastic elements.

 

3. “Founding Father” by Clifford D. Simak 

First publication: Galaxy Science Fiction (May, 1957)

Illustration by Leo and Diane Dillon for Galaxy Science Fiction (May, 1957)

Summary:

After a century-long journey from Earth, the immortal Winston-Kirby walks home across the surface of a new planet, eagerly anticipating a reunion with his five companions at their robot-built manor. He cherishes these moments alone, reflecting on the new life they'll build, a future far removed from Earth's overpopulation crisis that compelled immortals like him to establish new colonies.

However, his arrival at the manor shatters his expectations. The house is cold and empty. His robot servant, Job, explains that his "companions,” the luxurious furnishings, and the comforting atmosphere were all sophisticated illusions created by the "Dimensino machine." These were vital for Winston-Kirby's sanity during the long voyage but are now repurposed to power incubators for the colony's human and livestock embryos.

The revelation leaves Winston-Kirby in a sparse, ugly room, confronting the brutal reality of his solitary mission. He attempts to recall his comforting illusions, but they manifest uncontrollably, becoming terrifyingly real and inescapable. As the voices of his imagined companions draw closer, Winston-Kirby locks himself in, his mind now a prison of the very comforts he longed for. 

Commentary:

The Twilight Zone presented several episodes that tackled the trials of manned space travel, the most successful being “Elegy,” “People Are Alike All Over,” “Death Ship,” and “On Thursday We Leave for Home.” Simak’s strange, disturbing tale, collected in The Worlds of Clifford Simak (Simon & Schuster, 1960), offers another take on the psychological toll of manned space travel. The juxtaposition illustrating the world of Winston-Kirby’s illusions and the world of his reality would be startling to view.

 

4. “Lonely Road” by Richard Wilson 

First publication: The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction (September, 1956)

Illustration by Richard Powers for Wilson’s Those Idiots from Earth (Ballantine Books, 1957), which contains the story.

Summary:

After an all-night drive, Spruance finds a roadside diner, gas station, and even a small town strangely deserted. The eerie absence of people and cars, which began after he stopped under an overpass during a rainstorm—where puddles eerily reminded him of his deceased son's fish aquariums—leaves him feeling like the last person on Earth. He continues to pay for everything he takes, clinging to normalcy.

His solitude shatters at a toll bridge where people suddenly reappear. However, the distant behavior from townspeople, coupled with two missing days of newspapers, signal a deeper anomaly. Back home, his wife confirms her own unsettling experience during the missing two days. In the attic, she sought their son's two aquariums but inexplicably saw three, along with an extra pair of dust mitts, before things reverted to normal. As they recall their son's fish transfer experiment, Spruance begins to connect his experience under the overpass to a chilling possibility of another world and an unseen “experimenter.”

Commentary:

Spruance’s ordeal will likely remind readers of Rod Serling’s “Where Is Everybody?” Where Serling’s story offers a psychological explanation, Wilson’s story veers into alien otherness. Richard Wilson (1920-1987) wrote several memorable science fiction stories, winning the Nebula Award in 1969 for “Mother to the World.” He was instrumental in the development of the collection of science fiction manuscripts and papers housed at the George Arents Research Library on the campus of Syracuse University.

 

5. “That Hell-Bound Train” by Robert Bloch 

First publication: The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction (September, 1958)

Illustration by Paul Alexander for The Best of Robert Bloch (Del Rey, 1977)

Illustration by Stephen Marchesi for Alfred Hitchcock’s Witch’s Brew (Random House, 1977)

Summary:

Martin, a drifter whose life is marked by odd jobs and small crimes, is perpetually drawn to the railroad and the haunting "Hell-Bound Train" song his father once sang. One desolate November night, a screaming, lightless train materializes before him. Its mysterious Conductor, discerning Martin's brief contemplation of redemption, invites him aboard. Martin refuses the ride, instead seeking a bargain: his soul in exchange for a watch capable of stopping time forever. He boldly declares his intention to cheat the Conductor, never paying his debt. The Conductor, feigning distress, vanishes with the train.

For years, Martin lives a life of gradual ascent in Chicago, always holding onto the watch but never using it. He marries, but the relationship proves unhappy; an affair leads to a devastating divorce. As he faces old age, sickness, and impending death, Martin returns to a lonely stretch of railway. He falls down, dying, and realizes the irony of having outwitted himself. Just then, the dark, familiar train reappears. The Conductor steps out, touching Martin and instantly restoring his youth and vigor.

Martin steps onto the train and it takes off down the line. As the Conductor reaches for the watch, Martin unwinds it, locking the "Hell-Bound Train" in a perpetual journey. The Conductor's cry of "Don't you know what you've done?" is met with Martin's knowing smile. Now Martin happily rides "That Hell-Bound Train" on a never-ending journey.

Commentary: 

Robert Bloch (1917-1994), the celebrated author of Psycho and numerous other works, is another writer whose absence on the series is baffling. Not only was Bloch one of the most prolific short story writers of his day, with an award-winning output encompassing mystery, horror, fantasy, and science fiction, but he was also a friend and occasional mentor to Twilight Zone writers Richard Matheson and Charles Beaumont.

There is, of course, a Twilight Zone episode concerning a watch that can stop time, but Bloch’s updating of the Faust legend to a contemporary setting would find its place alongside such episodes as “Escape Clause,” “A Nice Place to Visit,” “Of Late I Think of Cliffordville,” and “Printer’s Devil.” “That Hell-Bound Train” won the 1959 Hugo Award for Best Short Story.

 

6. “The Mail for Juniper Hill” by Joseph Payne Brennan 

First publication: Nine Horrors and a Dream (Arkham House, 1958)

Illustration by Richard Powers for Ballantine Books paperback, 1962

Summary:

Dave Bains, a retired postmaster, recounts a strange event from Juniper Hill's past. Forty years prior, the small town's dedicated but hard-drinking postman, Ed Heyerson, faithfully delivered mail in his Model-T via a treacherous mountain road. Ed often boasted he'd deliver the mail "from Hell if need be."

One blizzard-ridden December day, despite being drunk and facing a severe storm, Ed insisted on making his afternoon mail run. Later, the nearby Grangeville postmaster confirmed Ed had arrived and departed. As the blizzard raged, the Juniper Hill post office crew lost hope of Ed returning.

Then, a frozen mail sack thumped onto their veranda. Through the storm, they saw a figure, unmistakably Ed, trudging away through the snow. They followed, but when Ed turned, his eyes blazed with an unholy red fire, terrifying them. He turned and continued toward the cemetery. The worsening storm forced the men back to the post office. Two days later, after the blizzard passed, Ed Heyerson's frozen body was discovered at the far end of the cemetery; his Model-T was found stuck in the mud miles away.

Commentary:

The first collection from Joseph Payne Brennan (1918-1990), Nine Horrors and a Dream, contained some of his best stories, including the gruesome “Slime,” a certain inspiration for The Blob, the short and effective “Levitation,” about a hypnotism gone horribly wrong, and the excellent M.R. James-inspired witchcraft story “Canavan’s Back Yard.” “The Mail for Juniper Hill” is a lesser-known tale from Brennan, but one suffused with the kind of character and atmosphere later appropriated by fellow New England writer Stephen King, who wrote an introduction to Brennan’s 1980 collection The Shapes of Midnight. The most challenging aspect of adapting the story is the visual effect required to indicate Ed’s hellish eyes of fire. If this problem could be solved, this suspenseful tale could result in an episode as eerily atmospheric as “Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?” or “The Grave.”

 

7. “The Enormous Radio” by John Cheever 

First publication: The New Yorker (May 17, 1947)

Summary:

Jim and Irene Westcott, a young married couple, purchase a new, expensive radio. Initially, Irene dislikes its appearance, but soon discovers it inexplicably picks up sounds from within their apartment building. The radio soon begins broadcasting clear, intimate conversations from their neighbors' apartments. Horrified but fascinated, the Westcotts listen to private moments, from mundane sounds to bitter quarrels and even domestic abuse.

Irene becomes obsessed with eavesdropping, prompting Jim to chastise her for the invasion of privacy. Their own financial struggles, which Jim confesses to, add to the tension. As their argument escalates, Irene fears the radio will broadcast their quarrel. Jim angrily shouts at her, bringing up the sins of her past. Irene listens to the radio hoping in vain to hear something kind or reassuring.  

Commentary: 

“The Enormous Radio” is one of the most popular stories of John Cheever (1912-1982). First published in The New Yorker, it was collected as the title story of Cheever’s 1953 collection The Enormous Radio and Other Stories. The story has been reprinted numerous times, including in Ray Bradbury’s anthology Timeless Stories for Today and Tomorrow (1952).

Cheever only occasionally delved into fantasy, but when he did the results were striking. “The Enormous Radio” has a great deal in common with several Twilight Zone episodes. It is a memorable example of how technology, or the commonplace items in our homes, can reflect back upon us our flawed nature, sometimes tragically so. Charles Beaumont’s “Static” is a memorable episode that used a radio to tell a romantic and nostalgic story of regret and second chances. Cheever’s tale takes a different, and darker, route in exploring the contradictions of the human heart. The effect is memorable and chilling. Once read, the story remains etched in the reader’s memory.

The story was, appropriately enough, adapted for radio on CBS Radio Workshop, broadcast May 11, 1956. On television, the story was adapted in 1953 for Revlon Mirror Theater, and later as an episode of the third season of Tales from the Darkside (1987).

 

Stories from Writers for The Twilight Zone:

1. “The Playground” by Ray Bradbury 

First U.S. publication: Esquire (October, 1953); published the year prior in the UK edition of Bradbury’s 1951 collection The Illustrated Man.

Illustration by Ben Shahn for Esquire (October, 1953)

Summary:

Charles Underhill, a widower haunted by painful childhood memories of bullying and injury, dreads his young son Jim visiting the local playground. When his sister Carol plans to take Jim, Charles vehemently forbids it, fearing Jim will suffer the same torments he did. A strange boy at the playground repeatedly calls Charles by name, unsettling him.

Despite Charles's warnings, Carol takes Jim to the playground. Charles finds his son bloodied and pursued by other children, intensifying his resolve to protect the boy. Later that night, Charles returns to the empty playground. The mysterious boy appears, revealing himself to be a father like Charles who made a deal with the playground to spare his own child from its terrors. He offers Charles the same deal.

The next day, Charles takes Jim to the playground. As he enters, the other children swarm. Charles falls, and when he opens his eyes, he is a small boy. His sister Carol and a familiar man wave goodbye, calling him "Jim." Trapped in a child's body, Charles is left on the playground, forever reliving the nightmare he tried to save his son from.

Commentary:

In my review of “I Sing the Body Electric,” Ray Bradbury’s (1920-2012) sole contribution to The Twilight Zone, I wrote at length about Bradbury’s struggles to write for The Twilight Zone, and how these struggles resulted in an episode which disappointed Bradbury and soured his relationship with Rod Serling. “The Playground,” Bradbury’s nightmarish tale of a parent’s ultimate sacrifice to spare his son from the horrors of childhood, offers a better chance to successfully adapt Bradbury on The Twilight Zone. It would be inexpensive to produce and would call back to several episodes on similar thematic grounds.

An introduction to a recent reprint called the story “one of the great stories of childhood-as-nightmare.” This was a recurring theme on the series. The Twilight Zone presented several episodes which used fantasy to force adults to confront the traumas of childhood, sometimes their own and sometimes those of another. The episodes that immediately spring to mind are Rod Serling’s disturbing “Nightmare as a Child” and Reginald Rose’s tragic “The Incredible World of Horace Ford.” Other episodes include “Walking Distance,” “The Big Tall Wish,” “Long Distance Call,” “It’s a Good Life,” “Kick the Can,” “Little Girl Lost,” “Young Man’s Fancy,” “Mute,” “In Praise of Pip,” “The Bewitchin’ Pool,” and Bradbury’s “I Sing the Body Electric.”  

“The Playground” was adapted for television by Bradbury as the second episode of The Ray Bradbury Theater. It starred William Shatner, directed by William Fruet, and aired on June 4, 1985. An excellent synopsis and review of the episode can be found here.

Bradbury’s influence on the writers for The Twilight Zone was profound. This likely contributed to Bradbury’s frustrations when he struggled to produce workable material for the series, especially considering his success writing for Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Bradbury was a hugely prolific short story writer, and there are numerous Bradbury stories that might have made great episodes. When choosing a story from Bradbury for this list, I also considered “The Crowd,” “The Scythe,” “Zero Hour,” “Mars is Heaven!”, “The Black Ferris,” “Fever Dream,” “Kaleidoscope,” “The Fox and the Forest,” “The Veldt,” and “Hail and Farewell.”

 

2. “The Candidate” by Henry Slesar 

First publication: Rogue (August, 1961)

Illustration by Richard Powers for The Fiend in You, edited by Charles Beaumont (Ballantine Books, 1962)

Illustration by Paul Fisher-Johnson for The Young Oxford Book of Nasty Endings, edited by Dennis Pepper (1997)

Illustration for “The Jam” by “Meyerson” for Playboy (November, 1958)

Summary:

Burton Grunzer, a ruthless young businessman fueled by the philosophy of "a man's worth can be judged by the caliber of his enemies," finds particular satisfaction in his ongoing, petty subversion of his older, successful colleague, Whitman Hayes. His meticulous, minor aggressions against Hayes fill his days until an unmarked, enigmatic letter arrives at his home from "The Society for United Action."

The elusive nature of this mysterious organization, initially dismissed by Grunzer as a fundraising scam, piques his curiosity. Days later, after a discrediting defeat at work, Grunzer meets with Carl Tucker, the society’s unassuming representative. Tucker unveils a chilling premise: a clandestine group of over a thousand dedicated to willing people to death through collective mental effort and the sheer terror of their victim knowing. The meeting concludes with an unsettling revelation: Grunzer himself is now their target, his own "death wish" already set in motion.

Commentary: 

Rod Serling was fascinated by the ruthless nature of American business, a theme he explored in some of his most celebrated works. These include "Patterns" for Kraft Television Theatre, which earned Serling his first Emmy Award, and The Twilight Zone episodes "Walking Distance" and "A Stop at Willoughby." Henry Slesar's (1927-2002) story shares a lot with Serling's adaptation of Malcolm Jameson's ruthless businessman tale, "Of Late I Think of Cliffordville." However, in Slesar's narrative, it's not the Devil who visits the repulsive Burton Grunzer. Instead, it's the polite, smiling Carl Tucker, backed by a force of over a thousand willing Grunzer to die. The story maintains an unnerving, almost supernatural atmosphere, despite having no actual supernatural elements.

Henry Slesar was twice adapted for The Twilight Zone’s fifth season with “The Old Man” and “The Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross.” For The Twilight Zone revival series, Slesar was adapted for the bleak first season segment “Examination Day.” “The Candidate” was an immediate anthology favorite after its initial appearance in the pages of Rogue. Charles Beaumont included the story in his anthology of psychological horror stories, The Fiend in You (1962), while Basil Davenport included the story as one of 13 Ways to Kill a Man (1965), and Robert Arthur selected it for Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Stories that Scared Even Me (1967). 

Another Slesar story I considered but decided against due to thematic material, is “The Jam,” from 1958. In this story, Stukey is driving his drug-addicted friend, Mitch, who is suffering a painful comedown, to score a fix across town. Their dangerous driving through a tunnel brings them to an impossibly long traffic jam stretching off as far as the eye can see. Stukey asks a police officer what’s going on and discovers they didn’t make it out of the tunnel alive. The jam is comprised of all those who have crashed and died in the tunnel.

 

3. “Mourning Song” by Charles Beaumont 

First publication: Gamma #1 (July, 1963)

Illustration by Peter Scanlan for Charles Beaumont: Selected Stories, edited by Roger Anker (Dark Harvest, 1988)

Summary:

 In a small, snow-covered town, Lonnie grows up haunted by Solomon, an enigmatic, seemingly ageless figure who appears with a raven on his shoulder, no eyes in his head, and a guitar in his hands, singing songs that presage death. Though the town fears and reveres Solomon, Lonnie dismisses him as superstition. But when Solomon’s mournful melody claims Lonnie’s father and later threatens his future with his beloved Etilla, Lonnie’s disdain explodes into fury. Publicly, and before a horrified crowd, Lonnie murders Solomon, believing he's shattered the myth. Yet, imprisoned for the murder and awaiting trial, Lonnie hears the impossible: Solomon’s death song, proving that some destinies, once sung, are inescapable.

Commentary:

Among Charles Beaumont's (1929-1967) last works before illness tragically silenced his prolific pen is “Mourning Song,” a haunting narrative that plunges into the inescapable nature of death and the relentless grip of fate. It's little surprise that as Beaumont himself battled a terrible, life-altering disease, his mind gravitated towards such themes, imbuing the story with a raw, visceral understanding of death’s looming presence.

Beyond its personal resonance, “Mourning Song” embodies the very essence of Beaumont's contribution to The Twilight Zone. His episodes consistently displayed a fascination with existential dread unmatched by any other writer on the series. The grim trajectory of Lonnie's self-destruction, inexorably drawn into the chilling orbit of the unsettling Solomon, would not only have translated well to the screen but would have cemented “Mourning Song” as one of Beaumont's most enduring and unsettling contributions to the show's legacy.

 

4. “One for the Books” by Richard Matheson 

First publication: Galaxy Science Fiction (September, 1955)

Illustration by Dick Francis for Galaxy Science Fiction (September, 1955)

Summary:

Fred Elderman, an uneducated university janitor, wakes one morning with a shocking ability: he can speak fluent French. He thinks it might be related to the fact that he cleaned the French department the night before. As he continues his work at the university, a terrifying pattern emerges—after cleaning the History, Physics, and Art departments, Fred instantly absorbs an encyclopedic amount of knowledge.

His friends dismiss it as a joke, but his wife, Eva, urges him to see a doctor. Dr. Boone can't find a physical cause, and an increasingly distraught Fred realizes his mind is becoming a repository for all Earthly knowledge. The head of Psychological Sciences, Arthur B. Fetlock, explains that Fred is somehow accessing a portion of his brain previously thought impossible.

A meeting organized by Fetlock turns into a nightmare as Fred is bombarded with questions. But the night takes a chilling turn when Fred hears a voice in his mind: "Come. It's time." A bluish-white light descends from the sky, hitting him like a bolt of lightning.

A year passes and Fred, now a near-catatonic mute, has slowly relearned to speak. His wife finds him holding a sponge. His first words are: "I been squeezed.”

Commentary:

Richard Matheson was a deeply humanistic writer, drawn to the ways that extraordinary experiences can offer unique, often terrifying, perspectives on the human condition. This is the real engine of “One for the Books.” Despite its chilling conclusion pointing toward a controlling alien intelligence, the story is compelling because it focuses on a normal man, Fred Elderman, as his life is irrevocably disrupted by a strange new ability.

This theme was a staple of The Twilight Zone, a series that Matheson’s short fiction helped define. We see similar crises of identity and reality in episodes like “The Purple Testament,” “A Stop at Willoughby,” Matheson’s “A World of His Own,” and many others. It’s easy to picture a character actor like Burgess Meredith bringing the everyman tragedy of Fred to life.

Thirty years after publication, Matheson adapted the story for the first season of Steven Spielberg’s anthology series Amazing Stories. Directed by Lesli Linka Glatter and starring Leo Penn as Fred, the episode premiered on May 11, 1986. This adaptation is a testament to the enduring power of Matheson’s original tale, and to a writer who consistently used the bizarre to tell us something profound about ourselves.

 

5. “Vandy, Vandy,” by Manly Wade Wellman 

First publication: The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction (March, 1953)

Illustration by Lee Brown Coye for Who Fears the Devil? (Arkham House, 1963)

Illustration by Les Edwards for Who Fears the Devil? (Star, 1975)

Summary:

John the Balladeer, a wandering guitar player, discovers an isolated Appalachian family playing a song he knows, "Fire in the Mountains." After impressing the Millen family with his musical skill, patriarch Tewk introduces John to his wife, son Heber, daughter-in-law Jill, grandson Calder, and beautiful daughter Vandy. John recognizes Vandy's name from an old folk song. The family reluctantly performs it for John; it tells of a woman named Vandy who rebuffs a suitor while awaiting her true love's return from the army.

Their performance is interrupted by Mr. Loden, a sinister, anachronistically dressed man known to the family. Loden, who unsettles John and clearly makes Vandy uncomfortable, brings small gifts and suggests Vandy and Mrs. Millen prepare dinner with him. During dinner, John reveals he knows a local song about "witch magic" and a man who lives for centuries, challenging Loden. As Loden prepares to leave, John pays for his meal with a silver quarter, which causes Loden to panic and flee. Old Tewk refuses the payment, and John puts the quarter back in his pocket.

Later, Calder explains that the "Vandy, Vandy" song is a family legacy, detailing how each generation's Vandy has been pursued by a malevolent figure like Loden. John senses danger and places a protective charm on the house before sleeping. Loden's return later that night is thwarted by John's magic, but Loden manages to cast a binding spell on John. Loden, a practitioner of dark magic, reveals he plans to kill John at sunrise using a magical drawing.

Trapped, John invokes the name of Washington Millen, an ancestor of his host family, as well as that of his namesake, George Washington. He realizes Loden is a centuries-old witch man who escaped Salem and has hounded generations of Millen women named Vandy. Loden admits he knew George Washington, who once rejected his offer of help during the Revolutionary War. John, subtly breaking Loden's spell using his own knowledge of magic, produces the silver quarter. As Loden casts a spell around the drawing of John, John flings the silver quarter into Loden's magic circle.

Suddenly, a spectral figure resembling George Washington rises from the spot where the quarter landed. The apparition kills Loden. John, now free, realizes the image of Washington on the coin must have inadvertently summoned the historical figure, rather than whatever Loden intended. With Loden defeated, John leaves the Millen home at dawn, hearing Vandy's sweet voice singing the final verse of her namesake song.

Commentary: 

Rural fantasy was a mainstay of The Twilight Zone, with mixed results. One of the more intriguing episodes of the type is “Still Valley,” Rod Serling’s adaptation of Manly Wade Wellman’s (1903-1986) Civil War story “The Valley Was Still” (1939). A recurring aspect of these episodes is the use of folk music, as heard in “The Passersby,” “Jess-Belle,” and “Come Wander with Me.” Wellman’s tales of John the Balladeer are inseparable from the folk music traditions of the Appalachian Mountains that Wellman collected over his lifetime. Wellman wrote stories and novels of “Silver John” for more than thirty years, and all are well worth reading.

The character of John is certainly intriguing, but the adversaries that John faces give the stories their power. Mr. Loden, the undying “witch man” who escaped the Salem witch hunts and pursues Vandy across generations, is one of Wellman’s creepiest creations. A talented actor would make the role as memorable as Vaughn Taylor’s witch man “Teague” in “Still Valley.”

 

6. “Vintage Season” by C.L. Moore and Henry Kuttner 

(as by “Lawrence O’Donnell”)

First publication: Astounding Science Fiction (September, 1946)

Illustrations by Swenson for Astounding Science Fiction (September, 1946)

Summary:

When Oliver Wilson rents his home to three peculiar strangers—Omerie, Kleph, and Klia—he thinks he's simply getting some easy cash. But these aren't your typical tenants. They're dressed in odd clothes, speak with an alien precision, and seem obsessed with his house.

Soon, Oliver finds himself at the center of a tense standoff. His girlfriend, Sue, is pushing him to sell the house to a mysterious old woman and her husband, who just happen to be from the same place as his tenants. But Oliver refuses, honoring his contract. In response, the old woman gives Sue a strange metal cube to hide in the house, which produces terrible headaches until Oliver’s tenants help him find and destroy it.

As Oliver grows closer to one of the tenants, the beautiful Kleph, she reveals their chilling secret: they are time travelers from a distant, utopian future. They travel to the past not to change it, but to witness humanity’s most catastrophic moments. His house, it turns out, is the perfect vantage point for a meteor strike that's about to happen. After the meteor hits, Kleph and her friends leave, and Oliver discovers the true cost of their visit: he’s contracted a deadly plague that arrived with the meteor.

Commentary: 

Written by husband and wife duo Henry Kuttner and C.L. Moore (whose story "What You Need" was adapted for The Twilight Zone), this novelette is rich in detail and incident. Its central idea—time travelers who witness catastrophic events—is a highly adaptable concept for any scale of production. Rod Serling developed tentative plans for two-part episodes had the series been extended for a sixth season. "Vintage Season" would have made an excellent choice for this format. 

Henry Kuttner (1915-1958) and C.L. Moore (1911-1987) were a talented and influential writing team during the "Golden Age" of science fiction. While both wrote successful stories individually, their collaborations, often under the pseudonym Lewis Padgett, are exceptional. Perhaps their most notable collaboration is the story “Mimsy Were the Borogoves,” in which two children receive toys from the future that alter their humanity. The story was filmed in 2007 as The Last Mimsy.

Individually, Kuttner is known for his first published story, the gruesome “The Graveyard Rats,” and for his Elak of Atlantis series of sword-and-sorcery adventures. Moore created two enduring characters: Northwest Smith, a space adventurer who appeared in Moore’s first published story, “Shambleau,” and the female sword-and-sorcery hero Jirel of Joiry.

 

7. “A Watcher by the Dead” by Ambrose Bierce 

First publication: San Francisco Examiner (December 29, 1889)

Illustration by Paul Landacre for Tales of Soldiers and Civilians (Heritage Press, 1971). Bierce’s collection was originally published in 1891.

Summary:

In an abandoned San Francisco house, a gambler named Jarette is locked in a dark room with a sheeted corpse as part of a wager. Doctors Helberson and Harper orchestrated the wager to test man's fear of death, with medical student Mancher playing “the corpse,” chosen for his resemblance to Jarette. Alone, Jarette tries to sleep but is unnerved by the silence, then by subtle noises and footfalls from the supposedly dead body.

The next morning, Helberson and Harper arrive at the house, fearing Mancher may have revealed himself and Jarette reacted violently. They find a crowd outside. A man bursts from the room with superhuman strength and frost-white hair, fleeing into the street, seemingly deranged. Inside, the "corpse" on the table is confirmed dead for six hours.

Seven years later in Manhattan, Helberson and Harper, having given up medicine, are approached by a stranger with frost-white hair. He reveals himself as William Mancher, who sometimes calls himself Jarett. He explains that when a man frightens another to death it is best to exchange clothes with him and flee. Mancher is now clearly insane, claiming to be a "High Supreme Medical Officer" whose job is to cure the asylum's superintendent. The doctors realize their morbid wager had a truly horrifying and unforeseen outcome.

Commentary: 

Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914?) was the most significant writer of American horror fiction in the years between Edgar Allan Poe and H.P. Lovecraft. He had a profound influence on the development of weird fiction, chiefly through his influence on Robert W. Chambers, author of The King in Yellow (1895). Bierce served in the Union Army during the Civil War, witnessed many of its bloodiest battles, and subsequently wrote a fine series of stories about the war, infused with the pessimistic irony of Bierce’s worldview.

A journalist for William Randolph Hearst’s San Francisco Examiner, Bierce was hated and feared for the savagery of his public attacks. He is best-known for The Devil’s Dictionary, a brilliant work of satire, perhaps the finest in American letters, first published in 1906 as The Cynic’s Word Book and revised several times in subsequent years. At the age of 71, Bierce disappeared while traveling in Mexico during the time of the Mexican Revolution. His last known communication was sent on December 26, 1913, a letter from Chihuahua in which Bierce wrote: “I leave here tomorrow for an unknown destination.” He was not heard from again.

His unknown fate inspired many writers to imagine his demise. Notable examples include Gerald Kersh’s “The Secret of the Bottle” (1957) (also known as “The Oxoxoco Bottle”), which won the Edgar Award from the Mystery Writers of America, and The Old Gringo by Carlos Fuentes. Fuentes’ 1985 novel was adapted for film in 1989 with Gregory Peck in the role of Bierce. The best available edition of Bierce’s work is The Devil’s Dictionary, Tales, & Memoirs, edited by S.T. Joshi (Library of America, 2011).

Strictly speaking, Bierce was not adapted on The Twilight Zone. An Academy Award-winning French short film adaptation of Bierce’s Civil War story “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” was broadcast as an episode during the fifth season. “A Watcher by the Dead,” with its strangely ambiguous denouement, might have made for as fascinating an episode as other non-supernatural entries, such as “The Silence” or “The Jeopardy Room.” It would have been interesting to see an actor play the dual roles of Jarette and Mancher.

The story was adapted for a segment of the long-running arts anthology program, Camera Three in 1959. Bierce’s story likely inspired English author Michael Arlen’s 1924 story “The Gentleman from America,” which retains the wager, substitutes the corpse for a haunted house, and retains the element of madness after a passage of years. Arlen’s story was adapted for the first season of Alfred Hitchcock Presents.

This is merely a sampling of the many published stories that might have made memorable episodes of The Twilight Zone. The series possessed a certain indescribable atmosphere which was not suited to every type of story. When the series did adapt a story, however, the results were always engaging and sometimes extraordinary.

Next Time in the Vortex: The Beatniks Are Due on Maple Street as we take an in-depth look at Earl Hamner's "Black Leather Jackets."

-JP