Ode To Number Twelve
I'm going to wax lyrical about a pillar of my childhood that has remained to this day.
I devoured hours of The Twilight Zone with my eyes before my ears were ready to hear the subtle truths and sometimes bombastic declarations offered up by its cast and crew.
I loved the black and white, the horror-stings, use of shadow, the reveals, the overracting, the monologues, costumes, everything about it.
I think my seven-year-old self could be forgiven for believing Rod Serling wrote each episode. After I learned otherwise, there was no end in sight. I wrote down the authors' names from my favorite episodes and returned from my library with stacks of weird-fiction, horror and science-fiction. I knew I was home in The Twilight Zone and now I had stacks of new worlds to inhabit.
My shelves started sagging and I wouldn't have it any other way.