Story. Страница 27

The Duel. O. Henry

The gods, lying beside their nectar on 'Lympus and peeping over the edge of the cliff, perceive a difference in cities. Although it would seem that to their vision towns must appear as large or small ant-hills without special characteristics, yet it is not so. Studying the habits of ants frm so great a height should be but a mild diversion when coupled with the soft drink that mythology tells us is their only solace. But doubtless they have amused themselves by the comparison of villages and towns; and it will…

Dear Samantha. Harry Downey

Dear Samantha,     You don't know me, so let me explain why I'm writing to you. Yesterday I had an appointment for a flu injection. They said I was an hour early, so I had to wait. Actually, I don't think I was, but that's what they said. While I was waiting, the only thing left to read was a women's magazine, and that's where I saw your name. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6166     I see that you advise people on their personal problems. If I tell you about mine, you might be able to help…

The Card. James Ross

The only thing I ever got off my old man was a birthday card when I was ten. He'd gone off when I was three and left me and mam and my sister to fend for ourselves. Mam never talks about him but my sister remembers him.     'What was dad like?' I ask. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6166     She looks at me through dark, sleepy eyes, pushes her hair back from her eyes. Her arms are scabbed like she's been shinning up a rusty drainpipe and accidentally slid back down and scraped herself. 'Whu?'…

Swimming Away. Clare Reddaway

She is sitting on the beach, alone. Her legs are curled under her, and her hands are feeling the pebbles at her side. They are smooth, like ducks' eggs. They fit snugly into her palm. The kind of pebble David used to kill Goliath, she thinks. She looks out over the sea. It is pewter, it is lead. The waves are bloated and sullen. They clutch at the shore and rasp as they retreat, surly as a kicked cur. The wet shore shines with the slug trail residue of the waves. The cliffs, honey and butter in sunshine, are…

Cora. Charlie Fish

I realised I was the last person awake, apart from the hosts, so I prepared to leave. They weren't having any of it - they gave me a couple of sofa cushions and insisted that I crash in the spare room, if I could find any floor space.     I got up and weaved my way through the debris from the house party. The hosts showed me the way and bid me goodnight. As I climbed the stairs, the light dimmed until I was feeling my way along the walls. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6166     I stepped…

The Lady in Black by Eleanor H. Porter

The house was very still. In the little room over the porch, the Lady in Black sat alone. Near her, a child’s white dress lay across a chair. On the floor at her feet lay a tiny pair of shoes. A doll hung over a chair and a toy soldier occupied the little stand by the bed. And everywhere was silence—the strange silence that comes only to a room where the clock has stopped ticking. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6166 The clock stood on the shelf near the end of the bed. The Lady in Black looked…

The Haunting of Husselbee. Richard Lakin

Husselbee cleared his throat, rapped on the glass, and told the woman in the green polo shirt he had murdered a man. She peered at him over her glasses and must have decided he was not mad or attention-seeking or any of the other idiots she was forced to deal with at a police station front counter. Perhaps it was the sober grey pinstripe suit that reassured her. 'I'll get someone down right away,' she said. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6166     Husselbee took a seat, avoiding the chewing…