In reply to ThunderCat:
Loads of Bradbury's short stories are ace and it's not all (not by a long shot) sci-fi / fantasy.
"The Next in Line" is just stunning - here's someone else's opinion on it and a little excerpt
"The Next in Line" is one of the best I've read in ages; in it I could sense the seeds of Matheson, Beaumont, King, Campbell, Etchison, others who would come along in the future to join Bradbury in delighting readers with dread. A young couple vacationing in Mexico visit the mummies in the catacombs and learn how the poor bury their dead. Marie, the wife, is struck dumb and cold by the dried-husk bodies:
Jaws down, tongues out like jeering children, eyes pale brown-irised in upclenched sockets. Hairs, waxed and prickled by sunlight, each sharps as quills embedded on the lips, the cheeks, the eyelids, the brows. Little beards on chins and bosoms and loins. Flesh like drumheads and manuscripts and crisp bread dough. The women, huge ill-shaped tallow things, death-melted. The insane hair of them, like nests made and remade...
How the story plays out and ends, is weirdly redolent of "Where Do We Go Now But Nowhere" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Well, the song is redolent of the story. Just in atmosphere rather than narrative.