Story. Страница 20

Bank Holiday. Katherine Mansfield

A stout man with a pink face wears dingy white flannel trousers, a blue coat with a pink handkerchief showing, and a straw hat much too small for him, perched at the back of his head. He plays the guitar. A little chap in white canvas shoes, his face hidden under a felt hat like a broken wing, breathes into a flute; and a tall thin fellow, with bursting over-ripe button boots, draws ribbons - long, twisted, streaming ribbons - of tune out of a fiddle. They stand, unsmiling, but not serious, in the broad sunlight…

The Scream. H. Briscoe

The heat was unbearable. The sun was stopped in the middle of the sky, refusing to move, firing missiles of heat down. You could almost see them as rippling waves that bounced off the black concrete paths, and feel them as they reflected up and hit you. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6312     If only there were grass, she thought, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. In the huge theme park, everything was manufactured - angular, flat surfaces, and shiny polished metal. Signposts painted with bright…

Strangers. E.B. Axelrod

Ted and Martha were late. Having lingered over French-press coffee and a true English Trifle at the nearby brasserie, they now had little chance of getting prime seats for the cabaret performance at Club Zee. Martha raced across Leicester Square, several paces ahead of Ted who seemed to be unaware of the need to hurry. She had purchased the tickets well in advance of their departure from Chicago, but that wouldn't matter if they ended up stuck behind a pillar. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6312…

Paris, at Night. Sung J. Woo

Today was rice day, fifty-pound sacks of white rice in trucks bearing an elephant logo. The same happy elephant appeared on the bags, its head raised to the sky, the trunk curved like an S.     "Elephant," Todd said.     He said it because a laborer was staring at it intently. Which meant he wasn't working. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6312     "That's right," the man said. "I couldn't remember the word."     He was the only other human at the loading dock this morning. The man didn't have…

Munro. Eve Chancellor

Day 1:     It wasn't an ideal situation. Martin hadn't really thought it through. He'd received the phone call early that morning, leaving him just enough time to pack a bag, contact the office and drive to Chelmsford to pick up Joel. One thing he hated to admit in front of Alex was that he didn't have a clue what he was doing. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6312     "Why aren't you at the office?" That was the first thing she'd asked. She always presumed that he would fall apart without…

In an Orchard near Dunkirk. Catherine Leyshon

© Catherine Leyshon     Corporal Earnest Goodheart is crouched in a ditch on the edge of an orchard between Dunkirk and De Panne. It's 28th May 1940, just a day into the evacuations. The muddy water fills his boots and soaks his uniform. His service revolver is in his trembling, filthy hand. He's ready to use it on himself. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6312     He has fled the carnage at Plage de Bray Dunes. An hour previously, he had stumbled away through the dunes, and now his eyes are…

Ways of Attending. Harry Readhead

The day after I returned from the art show in Bonn, I got an eye test. The opticians called me in; apparently I was overdue for a check-up. It was the look on the face of the woman in the hijab that told me something was wrong. She smiled weakly and left the room, with its awful green walls, and returned with another woman, who asked me to come with her. There was a long conversation then, and many qualifications and a great deal of sympathy; but the long and short of it was that I had aggressive macular degeneration…

Is that you, dear? Tony Billinghurst

Mrs. Henshaw, grey-haired and ancient before her time, resting her rheumatic twig fingers in her pinny lap, sat facing a large wall mirror and rocked the gloom away. Her frame was bent by discontent, missed opportunity, and twisted by rejection. The once sweet child was now a sour old woman who could curdle the milk of human kindness with a mere glance. Come good days she rocked and thought, come bad, she just rocked but on this middling day, she rocked and nursed her obsession with the past as though it was…