دانلود رایگان فایل های آموزش زبان انگلیسی
یادگیری سریع و آسان زبان انگلیسی
در این وبلاگ سعی شده که انواع فایل ها بر اساس علایق مختلف مانند داستان کوتاه ،
انواع رمان ( علمی تخیلی ، کاراگاهی و ... ) ، مجله های تکنولوژی و ورزشی ، کتابهای موسیقی و هنر انگلیسی و همچنین فیلم و سریال آموزش زبان انگلیسی را برای شما عزیزان مهیا کنیم ، امیدواریم کمکی در یادگیری زبان انگلیسی به شما عزیزان کرده باشیم . با تشکر
مدیر وبلاگ :sa fa
کیف پول پرفکت مانی
اگه شما هم قصد فعالیت در اینترنت را دارید من این کیف پول را به شما معرفی می کنم.
برای ایجاد این کیف پول باید اول در سایت پرفکت مانی عضو شوید. این سایت در حال حاضر میلیون ها کاربر از سراسر جهان را داراست و اعتبار زیادی دارد. شما بعد از عضویت در این سایت یک کیف پول رایگان را در اختیار خواهید داشت که نیازی به ورفای کردن ندارد.
کیف پول دلاری با U شروع می شود وبا استفاده از صرافی های موجود در ایران می توانید حساب ریالیتون را به دلار پرفکت مانی و یا یورو پرفکت مانی که با E شروع میشه ، تبدیل کنید. و از آن در سایت های کلیکی و یا سایت های بیت کوینی و... استفاده کنید. لینک عضویت:https://goo.gl/5sy4VH
کیف پول پاییر
این سایت نسبت به پرفکت مانی جدید تر است ولی با وجود جدید بودنش اعتبار زیادی کسب کرده است. یکی از کاربرد های عالی این سایت قابلیت تبدیل حسابتون به انواع مختلف ارزها و کیف پول هاست و به نوعی یک صرافی به حساب می آید. شما عزیزان میتونید با استفاده از صرافی های موجود در ایران دلار پاییر را خریده و در این کیف پول بریزید. پس اگر شما هم می خواهید از سایت های مختلف بین المللی کسب درآمد دلاری و ... داشته باشید همین حالا میتونید در این سایت عضو شده و از مزایای آن بهره ببرید. لینک عضویت:https://goo.gl/hQVpf4
نوع مطلب :
برچسب ها : کسب رآمد دلاری از اینترنت، کیف پول مجازی، کیف پول مجازی بین المللی،
لینک های مرتبط :
Austin said, "I am going to Zach's house." Now that I have finally mentioned the character, Zach, I can give you some clues on who he was. He was a cousin to me. A brother to Christian. Christian at this point of the story was quite nice and sweet. He enjoyed helping people. Now, after the schism, he has changed so very much. He is now a vile person. It's hard to tell vile people from noble people. Vile people look angry and smell fishy. Noble people look brave and smell like dogs. Well, not always.
I am sorry to tell you, but this is only the beginning. You still have to read ? chapters. I wish you were here with me instead of my master. He just talks about music and zombies. Well, my master at this point of the story wasn't born. He was Zach's and Christian's brother. His name was Alex. I am sorry to say but the happy moments of their parents' lives are about to end. To this very day they rest peacefully in their graves.
Angel said, "Iamgotojeho." Now that I have finally mentioned the character, Jessica, I can give you some clues on who she was. She was a cousin to me. A sister to Natasha. Natasha at this point of the story was quite nice and sweet. She enjoyed helping people. Too bad that her parents didn't survive a terrible fire.
Thomas said, "I am going to go smoke weed with Christian."
I looked at Thomas and said, "You better be careful. You don't want to get caught."
A few hours passed and I was alone in the world. Angel was at Jessica's house. Austin was at Zach's house. And, of course, Thomas was at Christian's house. The world was silent. Like I said, this story doesn't have a happy ending. If you were smart enough I would drop this book or at least stop looking at the dreadful words on this page.
Suddenly I ran into Mat and Don. They were both the greatest friends ever. Don was a orphan. And Mat had a mother named Rose. Mat and Don have their own story, which is as depressing as this one. Don's family gets murdered by Michael Myers and Mat and his mother goes to many places to try to find a dark secret about a man named: Rainsford. I walked with Mat and Don. There are questions in this world that may never be answered but there are also questions in this world that could be answered, such as the next question to be asked.
When I got home I saw Count Opie strangleing my mom. I ran over and pushed him away from my mom. Opie landed on the ground. My mom fell to her feet. Her eyes filled with water. Opie got up and ran off into the dark shadows of the night. My mom said, "Like I said, the answer to your questions will bring much sorrow to your and your siblings lives. I am sorry that Opie and I broke up. I know how much you kids adore him."
I said, "We don't adore that man, mom. Did my siblings come home, yet?"
My mom looked in my eyes and said, "You missed so much. When your siblings came home a few minutes ago, Opie broke Austin's left leg, he smashed Thomas's nose against our wooden counter, he even put Angel in the drier, for God's sake!"
I did miss alot. I missed a huge chunk in my siblings' sorrowful lives. I missed everything. I was lucky that I didn't have as much sorrow in my life, but soon things will change. It turns out that I wasn't very lucky at all. I was about to witness a chunk of my own sorrowful life.
Chapter 6 * My Story
A few weeks had passed. My mom found a new boy friend. He was the tallest man I have ever seen, but of couse I don't go out much. Austin and Thomas were in the hospital. Angel was in the hands of CYS. We were living in a new house. You probably think the doctors and the CYS were good people, but really they are just like us. They have a history of their own. They even have a sad story that no one knows.
نوع مطلب : داستان انگلیسی،
برچسب ها : داستان های آموزش زبان انگلیسی،
لینک های مرتبط :
Austin asked, "Where were we?" He held his picture up.
Thomas looked at this strange picture and saw a clown with a knife pretending to kill three children. "I see a clown that is pretending to stab us. I have no idea where that is though." Finally, Thomas looked at the picture he had picked up.
If I were you this time I would have cried my eyes out. This picture was the picture that caused me and my family so much sorrow. It was a picture that was meant to be kept away from little children.
Thomas, with tears coming out of his eyes, said, "The picture I have found...is very old. In this picture I see our mom...killing...Duane."
Oh, no! Duane is dead! Or am I? I am the person writting this book. So, of course, I am still alive. In that picture my mom was pretending to kill me. Just like that clown that was pretending to kill my siblings. I am Lana's oldest child. I am the missing child. I am the one that everyone thought drowned in a river. I am the one that lived to tell you my story. Even though some parts are somewhat true and somewhat false. So, right this moment you could call the police and tell them that you have found me, but you really don't know where I am. I am no longer living with my siblings nor my mom nor my gaurdians.
Chapter 4 * My Story
The next day when Opie came home, he locked up four children: Me, Thomas, Austin, and Angel. We were locked up in our room. I said, "Don't worry. I will get us out of here."
Suddenly the door opened and Opie stepped in. He looked at Thomas and said, "I need to talk to you."
Thomas stood up and walked over to Opie. They walked out of the room. Opie locked the door and me and my two siblings were surrounded by pure darkness. There was two kind of darknesses that surrounded us: Evil and shadows. What ever happened out in the kitchen no one knows. Thomas never told anyone, not even me nor his own siblings.
That night was cold and stormy. I stared out into the stormy night. I saw lightning and heard thunder. Angel was sound alseep in her little crib. Austin was also sleeping. Thomas was writting something in his tablet. When he was done writting, he gave me the tablet. I saw what he wrote. It read: "There are secrets in the world that has to be kept secret."
I looked at Thomas, but he was sleeping. I stared back down at the tablet. I stared at the words that he had handed over to me. I then put the tablet down and went to bed. I dreamt of a narrow hallway. I was walking towards a red painted door. When I opened this door, I saw my mom and Opie. Opie was counting money. He always enjoyed counting so I had a nickname for this cruel man: Count Opie. My mom was making her bed. I didn't have a nickname for her because I couldn't possibly make up a name for such thing. I walked over to her table and saw a new picture. It was the worst of all. In this picture was Opie kissing another woman, which wasn't my mom.
Chapter 5 * My Story
The next day I was walking home from school. I saw the picture of Count Opie kissing another woman. Who was this mysterious person? Was she nice? Was she mean? Was she my real mother...or some whore? There must be servial questions ramming inside of your head. I am sorry, but I can't answer your questions...yet. My siblings were with me. Thomas said, "Where were you yesterday...you know...when Opie kicked open the living room door for the sixth time?"
نوع مطلب : داستان انگلیسی،
برچسب ها : داستان انگلیسی، داستان های خواندنی انگلیسی، یادگیری زبان با خواندن داستان انگلیسی،
لینک های مرتبط :
Lana said, "Your breakfast isn't quite ready. I was expecting you..." She couldn't finish her sentence because this terrible man interupted her.
"I don't care when you were expecting me, just get my breakfast, lady!" He looked at his two sons and they nodded their heads in ageement.
Lana said, "Ok, baby." She ran to the kitchen and tossed serval items into a bag and ran back to this terrible man and held out the bag so he could easy grab it, but he didn't grab it.
He yelled, "Put that in my hands now!" She did. The three terrible men walked out of the door. They didn't even close the door.
She walked over to the three children and counted, "One, two, three..." She stopped and said, "Where is the fourth one?"
At this point in the story you are probably wondering who the fourth child was. You are also probably wondering who were the three terrible men and where they were going. I only wish that those three cruel men would be put in jail. The answer to this question was answered, but I can not tell you because it would ruin the story. Every answer, matter of fact, will ruin this story. Just like the answer to the childrens' next question, ruined their entire lives.
A moment later, Thomas was in his mom's room. He saw many pictures. Then he saw a note. It read: "My children will never find out who their real fathers were. Not one of them!"
Thomas went back into the kitchen and asked the biggest and hardest question of all time, "Who were our real fathers?"
Chapter 3 * My Story
Lana stood frozen staring out of the window. She said, "Your real father is Opie. He loves you all, very much." Opie was the cruel man that was so demanding. That kissed Lana. That kicked open the door. That would put these poor children in another home.
Thomas said, "I went into your room and found this note. It said, " 'My children will never find out who their real fathers were. Not one of them!' So, tell me who our real fathers were. I know that Opie isn't our real father because in the note you said that we can't find out our real fathers. That means there are more than one father."
Lana said, "The answer to that question will bring so much sorrow to your life. I am trying to protect all of you from the vile people out there...you know...the real world."
Thomas yelled, "Why is Opie here? He is vile! Why are his kids here? They are vile! Why are you here? You are also vile!"
Angel asked, "Whdovime?"
Thomas said, "Vile means evil and cruel."
Austin said, "Our mother is evil and cruel?"
Thomas said, "She wasn't before, but now she is."
Lana still staring out of the window finally said, "He wasn't like that before. They weren't either. Neither was I. I am sorry, but if you want the truth so badly, go and find the answers to all of your mysteries, but remember...I warned you."
The three children all raced to their mother's room. They all picked up a picture. Angel asked, "Wharthpeinthpi?" She held her picture up.
Thomas looked at this mysterious picture and saw his mom, himself, his siblings, and five men standing behind them. "I see mom, me, and you, but I also see five men that I have never seen before."
نوع مطلب : داستان انگلیسی،
برچسب ها : داستان انگلیسی، داستان آموزشی زبان،
لینک های مرتبط :
سایت کلیکی خارجی minerva-clicks در حال حاضر در رتبه دوم سایت های کلیکی قرار دارد و سایت قابل اعتمادی است که تا کنون مشکلی در پرداختی ها نداشته است . با کلیک بر روی بنر زیر به راحتی میتونید در این سایت عضو شوید و درآمد دلاری عالی را تجربه کنید . توجه کنید که در هنگام ثبت نام یا رجیستر کردن حروف کپچایی که وارد میکنید حروف کوچک باشه چون حروف بزرگ رو قبول نمیکنه .
نوع مطلب :
برچسب ها : معرفی بهترین سایت های کلیکی، سایت کلیکی minerva-clicks، minerva-clicks، کسب درآمد دلاری، کسب درآمد عالی از سایت های کلیکی، بهترین سایت های کلیکی خارجی برای کسب درآمد، کسب درآمد آسان و مطمئن،
لینک های مرتبط :
کسب درآمد دلاری بی نظیر با سایت قدیمی و قابل اعتماد shortest . این سایت هم فابلیت کسب درآمد از طریق کوتاه کردن لینک را برای کاربران خود فراهم کرده است و هم امکان کسب درآمد از طریق استخراج بیتکوین را دارد . شما می توانید لینک های کو تاه خود را هر جایی که دوست دارید ( مانند شبکه های اجتمایی ، ایمیل ، وبلاگ ، وبسایت و ... ) به اشتراک گذاشته و کسب در آمد کنید . شما عزیزان میتوانید درآمدهای کسب شده خود را به حساب وبمانی خود انتقال دهید . پس وقت خود را هدر ندهید و با عضویت در این سایت درآمد عالی را تجربه کنید . برای عضویت دراین سایت بر روی بنر زیر کلیک کنید :
نوع مطلب :
برچسب ها : کسب درآمد دلاری از اینترنت، کوتاه کننده لینک، درآمد از لینک کوتاه،
لینک های مرتبط :
در اینجا قصد داریم بهترین سایت های خارجی که هم قابل اعتماد هستند و هم قابلیت پرداخت به پرفکت مانی را دارا هستند را برای شما دوستان عزیز معرفی کنیم :
1 - سایت hdclix : رتبه دوم سایت های کلیکی خارجی - تعداد اعضا بین ده هزار تا صد هزار - دارای نمره 4.8 از 5 - زبان : انگلیسیی - پراخت .005 دلار به ازای هر کلیک - وضعیت : در حال پرداخت - لینک عضویت در این سایت
2 - سایت sprizads : رتبه چهارم سایت های کلیکی خارجی - تعداد اعضا بین ده هزار تا صد هزار - دارای نمره 4.7 از 5 - زبان : انگلیسیی - پراخت .0025 دلار به ازای هر کلیک - وضعیت : درحال پرداخت - لینک عضویت در این سایت
3 - سایت aticlix : رتبه پنجم سایت های کلیکی خارجی - تعداد اعضا بین ده هزار تا صد هزار - دارای نمره 4.7 از 5 - زبان : انگلیسیی - پراخت .01 دلار به ازای هر کلیک - وضعیت : در حال پرداخت - لینک عضویت در این سایت
4 - سایت paidverts : دارای رتبه 78 سایت های کلیکی خارجی - تعداد اعضا بین صد هزار تا یک میلیون - دارای نمره 3.9 از 5 - زبان : انگلیسیی - پراخت .001 دلار به ازای هر کلیک - وضعیت : امیدوارکننده - لینک عضویت در این سایت
پرفکت مانی یک کیف پول بین المللی امن و قابل اعتماد است که ایران را تحریم نکرده است و از زبان فارسی نیز پشتیبانی میکند. اگر تا حالا در این سایت عضو نشده اید پیشنهاد میکنم اول در این سایت عضو شوید در ضمن باید عرض کنم که برای عضویت در این سایت باید با یک آی پی غیر آمریکایی وارد شوید . لینک عضویت در سایت پرفکت مانی
نوع مطلب :
برچسب ها : سایت های کلیکی با بیشترین پرداختی، سایت های خارجی بدون مشکل با ایران، سایت های خارجی قابل در آمد زایی، سایت های با قایلیت درآمد زایی بالا، بهترین سایت های کلیکی خارجی،
لینک های مرتبط :
نوع مطلب :
برچسب ها : کسب در آمد از کوتاه کننده متن،
لینک های مرتبط :
Chapter 1 * My Story
Many years ago lived three children. Lana, Milf, and Nelly. Their mom was usually never home. She was at work. She was a banker. They did have a father, but they only saw him once. Lana met a boy. A few years later they got in a relationship. They had sex and had a boy. Nelly met a boy. A few years later they got in a relationship. They had sex and had a girl. Now, for Milf, he did meet a girl, but they didn't have a baby. A few years had passed and Lana and Nelly had three more children. Milf, had none. Lana's new children were: Thomas, Angel, and Austin. Nelly's new children were: Johny, Jordan, and Brandon. I am sorry to say but this story doesn't have a happy ending, if I were you, I would read a book about Snow White or at least a book with a happy ending. The events in this story are somewhat true and somewhat false.
Lana and her children were living in a little area in Carmichaels. Angel was the youngest of the children. She was an infant. Austin was older than Angel. And Thomas was older than Austin and Angel. In the next few chapters you will read about their terrible lives. You may think you know the whole story of the Harvey's, but really no one knows everything. There are dark secrets that lay through out this entire story. You will read how terrible the lives of these poor children were. They will discover terrible secrets of their parents. They will solve a long-lasting mystery. They will watch family members fight. And they will cry in terrible, terrible, and, of course, terrible pain.
Chapter 2 * My Story
Angel just learned to walk. She could only walk to the kitchen and to the living room, which were both quite small. The living room was my favorite room in the entire house because it was the most coldest room. Angel wobbled over to her mother and screamed, "Miance!" Like most infants, they talk in another form of language.
Her mother said, "Not now, Angel. I have to cook your father's breakfast before he goes off with his two children." She didn't even look at the poor girl on the floor standing by her side.
Angel's eyes filled with water and she feel down on her butt, crying. Her mom wasn't paying any attention to her. Austin walked into the kitchen and saw Angel crying. He didn't care, all he cared about was his little arms. He said, "When me grow me will be the strongest man alive!"
His mother, at the moment not looking at him, said, "I know you will, baby." She walked over to the kitchen sink and started to wash dishes.
Austin said, "Why is dumb dumb crying this time?"
His mom said, "Because I am too busy working to give her breakfast."
Austin walked back over to Angel and kicked her. She fell over crying even louder. Thomas walked into the small kitchen, saw Angel on the ground and said, "I hate infants." He looked at his mom. "What are you doing?"
His mom said, "Too busy to answer questions."
If I were you right this minute, I would drop this terrible book and call the police, because at this very moment the living room door was kicked open. It smashed against the wall and caused some pictures to fall. The three children shuddered at the fact that they knew who entered the house. It was three men. One of which was their father. The other two were his children.
Lana turned off the water and rushed to the living room. Angel stopped crying and wobbled to her siblings. They all hugged each other and shook in fear. Their father kissed Lana and said, "Where in the hell are those stupid brats? And where in the hell is my breakfast!?"
نوع مطلب : داستان انگلیسی،
برچسب ها : داستان انگلیسی،
لینک های مرتبط :
By: Max Sledge
The room was so full of smoke that I could barely see to the other side of the hut. Round in shape and grey, the hut was made of mud. If you wanted to rub your cheek up against the walls, you could, they were that smooth. All of the native huts I had seen in Zimbabwe since arriving from the states were made this way. They had roofs made of grass and shaped into a cone. I made my way through the haze of smoke and faces moving my feet to a rhythmic beat. Every time the sound of the drums changed I shouted out with everyone else the lyrics I had just picked up, “Mambo Jesu! Mambo Jesu!” As I circled the fire shuffling my feet to the beat of the bongo drums, a noticeably pregnant woman in front of me began to blow a whistle as she leapt into the air. Behind me, my new friend Smart shook a tambourine in rhythm with the song. My heart was racing and I began to sweat. This was at least the tenth song we had sung, and every song required dancing. The muscles in my cheek were beginning to burn because smiling wasn’t a hard thing for me to do. The cooking fire was located in the middle of the room and the flames illuminated twelve friendly faces. I wasn’t sure what time it was. All I knew was that the sun had gone down and it wasn’t going to come up again for a while. I glanced up and saw the roof made of reeds stained black.
“Do you dance like tiss in America?” Smart screamed into my ear over the pandemonium that surrounded us.
“We don’t, and I wish we did!” I screamed back at Smart as we danced around the fire. The drum beat changed again and everyone jumped into the air and belted out the lyrics. Smart was twenty-eight years old, six years older than I. He was tall and thin, a body type resembling mine. Smart was always smiling. The black color of his skin amplified the whiteness of his teeth. He was wearing a bright white collared dress shirt and tan khaki pants that were too big for him and blue sandals. Finally, the song ended and nine of the twelve that had been dancing and singing with me in Smart’s hut left. As each one filed out I cupped my hands and clapped them together to show my respect and they did the same for me. The strange thing was, though, that each time I showed respect to a man they laughed as they exited the hut. After all the guests left only three people remained. Smart’s wife was busy preparing food in a large iron pot that hung over the fire while Smart’s young daughter, named Mess, sat on the floor. I sat down next to Smart in a chair close to the door as we waited for dinner. I was still trying to figure out why only the men laughed at me. Smart cupped his hands together as I had done for the guests and his eyes lit up.
“I saw, you did it well!” Smart said. Earlier in the day while we ate guava from his tree Smart had taught me the proper way to formally greet his neighbors that would be coming over to dance and sing.
“Yeah Smart, but why did the men laugh when I did it to them?” I asked.
“They laugh? I did not see. Show me how you did da greeting.” Smart said. I cupped my hands as I had been taught one hand at an angle and the other pointing straight away from me and clapped them together.
“Oh no!” Smart said trying not to laugh. “You gave da men da women greeting!” Smart laughed out loud and then explained that for the men both hands were cupped but pointed straight out in front of you not at an angle. I had to laugh and Smart patted me on the back. I could see that Smart’s wife was ready to serve the food, and because I had seen what had been put into the pot earlier that day I prepared my stomach.
“So are you ready to eat? It tiss good food, my wife, good cook, you see?” Smart chimed.
“Sure, lets do this!” I said trying to overcompensate for my nervousness.
Smart laughed and then gave me a high-five. I was dreading the very thought of eating Tom. Tom was the name of the goat I had gotten to know earlier that day upon arriving at Smart’s house. I had given Tom some carrots to eat. That was just before Smart’s wife pulled out a machete and murdered Tom in front of me, dismembered him and shoved him in a large iron pot. Apparently, Smart had Tom killed in my honor. I did feel extremely honored but this was going to be the second time that day I had eaten goat.
“Sudsa for you Mr. Brain.” Said Smart with a wide smile.
My name was Brian but earlier that day when Smart had introduced me to his family, his young daughter, named Mess, had pronounced my name Brain instead of Brian. Smart refused to let this humorous occurrence go unnoticed and, consequently, had been calling me Mr. Brain the whole of the afternoon. Mess was lying on a piece of cardboard clutching her stomach when I met her. In a nonchalant way Smart had told me that she was suffering from malaria.
“Pile it high and deep please,” I told Smart. With a wide smile Smart’s wife put a
massive globule of corn maze (sudsa) onto my plate. Next came Tom, rounding out the meal from hell. The sudsa I could eat because it really didn’t taste like anything but Tom was a different story. As I lifted a piece of Tom to my mouth I noticed fur sticking out of the meat. “Are you kidding me?” I thought. As Tom entered my mouth, little Mess stood up from her seat and promptly vomited all over my lap. The room was silent. I was in complete shock. I had Tom in my mouth as well as Tom on my lap. Mess looked at me as if to say “Shit happens”. Smart was sitting next to me when the event occurred and was speechless for five seconds. The first white person who had ever entered Smart’s house had been vomited on by one of his own children. For Smart, the embarrassment must have been tremendous.
“Ooh! I’m so sorry, so sorry, so sorry!” Smart said as he yanked Mess out of the way and began cleaning up the vomit that was beginning to sink into my pants.
“It’s okay, It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Things happen Smart and she is sick. It’s not her fault.” I replied with such a light-hearted attitude that Smart calmed down a bit. Now at least I had an excuse for not finishing my meal. Smart looked at my vomit soaked jeans and offered me an alternative. Taking me to his sleeping hut, separate and located adjacent to the kitchen hut, he pulled out from underneath his bed what must have been his prized possession.
“My father gave it to me” said Smart with pride.
To my utter disbelief Smart handed me the 1990 (bright and may I add flagrantly shiny and gold colored) M.C. Hammer parachute pants.
“Thank you Smart,” I said. From the way he was looking at me I could tell that he wanted me to try them on to see how they fit. I pulled my vomitouse jeans off which Smart took and handed to his wife. As I slid my legs into the gold lame' I told myself not to worry, I only had to survive twelve more hours in the bush. The next day a vehicle would come and take me back to the hospital. The hospital had running water, bathrooms and food you never made friends with. My feet squeezed through the small elastic opening, which then immediately sucked to my ankle. The pants were so baggy that I could have used just one of the legs as an all-weather sleeping bag. Smart was gleaming. I was wearing his pants and he couldn’t have been more proud.
“Mr. Brain. I wonda. Will you come wit me to da township. Mess, you see? She is seek. I need to get her medicines.” Smart said this with such longing in his voice that if I were to refuse his offer, his feelings would undoubtedly be crushed.
“Of course I’ll go. How far is the township?” I said. Smart immediately let his perfect white teeth show and then gave me another high-five followed by a short laugh. He explained that the township was only four kilometers away and we would be there and back in forty-five minutes. The happiness that enveloped me while dancing was now all gone, and the fear of the unknown took hold. “You will be okay man.” I kept telling myself that as I stepped out of the hut and into the darkness. As I looked back, Mess was waving at me and smiling. I had hoped that she would be feeling better and I was glad that she was up and walking.
As we made our way through Smart’s cornfield I began to take in my surroundings. The air was cold and crisp. I looked up at the wide sky and saw the Milky Way. A white stripe traveled across the sky, giving us just enough light to walk. Little lights from fires of neighboring huts were spread out every couple of kilometers or so. “I guess this is Zimbabwe’s version of the suburbs.” I thought. Earlier that day, upon arriving at Smart’s house, I remembered the landscape consisting of low-lying brown brush and hilly shrub-land spanning wide in every direction. Now the landscape was masked by darkness. There were barely any sounds as we walked, only silence. The only thing breaking the silence was the sound of my pants rubbing together while we walked. With each stride I took, a sound that resembled quickly pulling up the zipper on a jacket echoed through the countryside, “zip-zip zip-zip”. After walking along the small path that led away from Smart’s house we arrived at the main road that went to the township. The road was dirt and in complete disrepair. Oxen-drawn carts were the main vehicles that traveled it. Consequently, deep grooves had developed in the road. This made walking by starlight some sort of sick game of chance. Your ankles were always one misstep away from breaking. “Zip-zip, zip-zip”, I followed closely behind Smart who navigated his way through the darkness like he was walking in the noonday sun. Suddenly, I saw some figures start to appear coming toward us in the opposite direction.
“Maswerasay,” Said Smart.
“Da swera maswera wo” the group responded in unison. I glanced up and saw a woman in the group carrying a large bucket of water containing at least five gallons resting on her head. They all stared at me as if I was a sideshow in the circus. I couldn’t blame them; seeing a white person in the bush is rare. Not only had they just seen a white person, they had seen a white person wearing shiny gold pants walking down their road in the middle of the night. As the group passed I heard the classic snickering and laughter that came with each sighting of my skin. But the more I thought about my present condition the more I began to worry. Sure, I had been into the township before, but that was during the day and I hadn’t been with just one person either. I had been with a group of people who not only knew the language but also could protect me if anything went wrong. Smart was a sweet guy who meant no harm but I didn’t feel he could protect me in this situation. With that thought, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head in an attempt to hide my melanin lacking face. I could see the lights from the township growing brighter but I knew we still had a good ten minutes of walking to go. Smart began to engage me in conversation. He asked many questions. Most consisted of whether or not people in America had goats (and other farm animals), what type of cars we drove, if I had a girlfriend and if not, would I be interested in a Zimbabwean girl for a wife. Then Smart grew silent as if he was collecting his thoughts.
“Will you write to me when you get back to da States Mr. Brain?”
“Sure Smart what do you want me to say?” I replied.
“Tell me about da weather, what yo doing, life in America. When you come back here to see me….” Smart paused, thought, and then started again. “I want to make it here, but it tiss so hard for me, if you wrote it would help me keep up good spirits.” Smart smiled. We continued to talk and then Smart asked me one last question.
“I wonda, if you could sponsor me to come back wit you to America?” Smart said. I knew that this question was inevitable and I had been presented with this request from different people numerous times. Every time it broke my heart but I responded to the question in the way that I had been taught.
“Talk to Sister Kathy, Smart.” I said. As soon as the words Sister and Kathy rolled off my tongue Smart grew silent. Shortly after, he changed the subject.
Sister Kathy was the name of the American nurse who ran the hospital in the neighboring town. I had come two months earlier to help Kathy by volunteering in the hospital for the summer. Kathy had suggested that I stay one night in the community in order for me to experience “true Zimbabwean lifestyle.” Smart was an elder in one of the house churches in the rural area and had agreed to let me stay with him. The hospital that Kathy ran was the only one that existed for hundreds of kilometers. Having worked in the community for over twenty years, she commanded absolute respect from everyone. Sister Kathy was not with me now and I would have felt a lot better had she been. The story that Sister Kathy had told me a few nights ago at the hospital flashed into my mind and my mind drifted to that night. Smart began discussing his love for Snickers bars. As I was sitting across from Kathy at the dinner table she began to explain to me her latest near death experience. It had happened two years ago during election season. The ruling government party soldiers had been touring the rural areas in attempt to intimidate the locals. They did this by beating up the men and raping the women. Six men armed with guns had taken a young girl attending Kathy’s bible study. They took her to the township where they held her hostage. Hearing that this had happened, Kathy hopped into her Land Rover and drove to the township where the young girl was being held prisoner. Kathy walked into the den of iniquity and grabbed the girl by the hand. The soldiers watched speechless and in shock as Kathy led her to the Land Rover. Once the girl was inside she sped away and hid the girl in an undisclosed location. She then returned to the hospital to wait for the retaliation that would inevitably come. Two days later three men stumbled onto the hospital compound late at night. They were not there to harm Sister; they just wanted to tell her what had happened. Apparently, the three men had been hitchhiking on the road that ran through the township. By chance, the soldiers responsible for kidnapping the girl picked up the three men. Upon entering the vehicle the soldiers began to brag about their plans. They were on the way the hospital to kill Sister Kathy. Humiliated by Kathy two days earlier, they were looking for revenge and their guns were loaded. But, two kilometers from the hospital the vehicle lost control and flew off the road. The vehicle ended up upside down in a large ditch. After the dust had cleared the three hitchhikers realized that they were the only survivors of the crash. All six soldiers had died instantly. The men noticed that they were only a few kilometers from the hospital. Because they were relatively unscathed, they decided to walk to the hospital to tell Kathy what had happened. I knew I wasn’t Kathy and that if I had tried to rescue that girl I would have been murdered.
The township was only one hundred meters away. I could hear the sound of Hip Hop music playing at the bar. My heart began to pound and my stride quickened. “ Zip-zip, Zip-zip, Here we go.” I thought. I tried to keep my profile as low as possible. Smart and I passed under the first electric light mounted at the outskirts of the township. My shiny pants reflected the unnatural light like a solar panel. I looked to my left. Around fifty people were hanging out in and around the bar, laughing and smiling. Cock-fighting was taking place to the bar’s right. I don’t know if it was because my white face glanced in their direction or the Hammer pants, but everyone became alerted to my presence. The laughing grew silent, the music stopped, everyone stopped and turned in my direction. Smart smiled and waved as my eyes moved from the bar to the ground.
“Smart! Haukotsire nhasi usiku, nokuti urikugara nezuva!” a voice shouted from the bar.
Instantly the entire group busted out in hilarious laughter. As we passed the circus, I asked what had been said.
“They say, I will no sleep tonight,” Smart said. His voice shifted revealing his embarrassment. “That’s not very funny,” I thought as we continued to walk. We were heading toward one of the many shops lining the street. Each shop consisted of a few pieces of plywood haphazardly nailed together. Again I asked Smart what was so funny.
“ I will no sleep because… I’m staying wit da sun.”
He said this while glancing at the Hammer pants. I could see the shame in his eyes.
“Oh, they are making fun of your pants Smart? Well, I like them, yeah, they’re pretty sweet.” As I said this, I smiled. My approval lifted Smart’s spirits instantly and he put one arm around me. As we entered the shop linked at the hip, the two men behind the counter shielded their eyes from the glare of the pants. I took my hood off knowing my cover had been blown. Smart began to speak in Shona to the shopkeepers. I kept my eye on the bar scene. Six males had broken off from the main group and were stumbling toward the shop. For some reason I thought that if I pulled my hood back over my head it would make me more intimidating, so that is what I did. The six men stopped and stood outside the shop. Smart purchased the medicine for Mess and we turned to walk toward the exit. I began to strut like Snoop Dog in a music video, but to no avail. I knew that a confrontation was imminent. As we exited the shop all six men surrounded us.
“Ummm… Hullo.” Smart said. Silence. I could smell alcohol. Five out of the six guys were holding beer bottles like tomahawks. Smart was the only person in the group smiling. “This is it.” I thought, “This is how I am going to die. How embarrassing!” I frantically tried to think of a way to get away. I realized that I didn’t have anything to bribe them with. My wallet was in my jeans and my digital camera was back at Smart’s house. Smart began to talk furiously in Shona. One of the men, apparently the ringleader, cut him off abruptly. The ringleader was short and muscular. He was wearing a button down flannel shirt and what looked to me like black dress pants rolled up to his knee. As he spoke I noticed his lack of dental hygiene. His teeth were scarce in the front. The ones that were there were either dead or dying, brown, black and jagged. As I was waiting to die I also noticed that two of the other men were wearing identical jackets. Tattered and in disrepair they contained a crest in the upper right hand corner. Of the six men who had surrounded us, each one lacked a different article of clothing. One missing a shirt, one missing shoes and there was a guy who was missing pants as well. He was wearing nothing but white jockey-style underwear, a purple vest and only one Birkenstock sandal.
“Who ah you sa?” The ringleader spoke to me with disdain in his voice. I explained to him that my name was Brian and that I was staying with Smart for the night. I then asked him who he was. He told me that his name was Vivian. My grandmother’s name had been Vivian and as the ringleader continued I tried to keep a straight face. Vivian began to ask numerous questions about my connection with the hospital and Sister Kathy. I told him that I had been working in the hospital and that I was Sister’s friend. After the questions were over Vivian stumbled toward me getting two inches from my face.
“You are wit Sista, huh? You tink yo special? You will suffa tonight Brian.” He smelled so bad I had to hold my breath while he spoke. Vivian snapped his fingers and walked past me. Two of Vivian’s thugs took me by the arms and pulled me out of the light-filled street. We followed Vivian into the darkness. Smart followed right behind me with two escorts on either side of him. The guy without pants followed Smart, flanking our drunken parade. I looked down and noticed that one of the thugs who grabbed my arm wasn’t wearing shoes. His feet were calloused and dirty. We had been walking for ten minutes and I had lost all sense of direction. Turning down a small path flanked on either side by cotton plants, we began to make our way up to a group of huts. All the men were speaking in Shona but Smart was silent. As we reached one of the huts, a woman came out to meet us. Shocked at the spectacle before her she began arguing with Vivian. The fight did not last long. As soon as Vivian raised his voice she relented. The men threw Smart and me into the kitchen hut and shut the door. The hut was much like Smart’s, circular, with a grass roof in the shape of a cone. In the middle of the hut lay the fire pit. Red coals gave dim light to the room.
“Mr. Brain.” Smart whispered.
“Yes Smart.” I replied.
“What you tink? We are dead?” Smart said.
“I don’t know, Vivian doesn’t seem to like me.” I replied. I asked Smart why Vivian hated Sister Kathy. As Smart was about to reply the kitchen door flew open. The two men with matching jackets stepped into the room. Each held a large sharp stick. They walked over to us and told us to sit, back to back. We immediately complied. Using rope they tied us tightly together. Then they placed wood in the fire pit. After lighting the fire they stumbled out of the hut, still drunk. Smart and I were positioned one meter away from the fire close to the middle of the room. I was facing the door and Smart was facing the wall. Smart leaned back and whispered into my ear.
“Vivian, everyone knows him in the areas. Everyone is scared of him. He is a nonga.” I had heard the word nonga before, but I couldn’t remember what it meant in English.
“What is a nonga?” leaning back I whispered into Smart’s ear. Smart didn’t have time to reply. The door flew open for a second time. The meaning of the word nonga was revealed. Vivian slowly stepped into the hut; his garb revealing his occupation. He was shirtless with what looked like necklaces of beef jerky hanging from his neck. On his ankle and wrist he wore beads and charms. His face was painted blue and white with blue highlighting his eyebrows. Consequently, these eyebrow highlights made him look like he was in a constant state of surprise. A grass skirt hung from his hips. Vivian was a witchdoctor. As he walked toward me a disturbing reality became clear. Vivian’s grass skirt was not woven together tightly. As a result his genitalia became visible each time he took a stride making him a walking peep show. Vivian bent down to get to my level.
“Before I kill you, Brian, an yo friend Smart” Smart leaned over smiling nervously, “I’m going to curse everything dat you love.” Vivian said this with hatred in his voice. Fear began to engulf me now that death was certain. Smart leaned back and began to whisper apology after apology into my ear. Vivian got up and left the hut. He returned quickly bringing into the room assorted farm animals. Goats, chickens, ducks and a few guinea fowl began to move around me. One of the goats began to nibble at my hair. Vivian placed a large wooden bowl next to my feet. Next he pulled out a photograph that was discolored and looked as if it had been ripped and then taped back together numerous times. He gingerly took the picture and taped it to my sweatshirt in the region of my chest. I looked down and saw what I presumed to be a Zimbabwean man in military uniform staring up at me holding a machine gun. As a chicken walked past my foot, Vivian grabbed it and snapped its neck. He then threw the carcass into the bowl. A large handful of red powder entered the bowl, second. Vivian harnessed a goat, took it by the utter and squirted milk into the bowl completing the recipe. Standing up he began to chant in Shona, and mix the three ingredients vigorously, kneading them with his long dirty fingernails. At this time Smart leaned back and began translating his chants and incantations to me. Vivian was repeating the same thing over and over; the phrase “May they suffer.” I knew that I only had a few more seconds of life. The situation was hopeless and I began to pray that God would deliver me. My stomach was sick with anxiety. Vivian began to throw various powders and dead plants into the fire. This created a thick smoke masking my vision. Smart and I began to cough and our eyes watered. Vivian continued to circle us as his incantation kept going. Changing the direction of his stride Vivian started to pace back and forth in front of me, his grass skirt periodically grazed my face. I began to glare into the flames and became fascinated by the colors of the fire. I heard Smart begin to laugh behind me. “What is going on?” I thought. I was shocked that Smart could be laughing.
“What are you laughing at?” I asked Smart in a condescending tone.
“I’m sorry Mr. Brain” Smart was fighting through the tears he was laughing so hard.
“It’s just…(laughter) da duck…(laughter) he is chasing da reflection”
Smart was barely able to finish the sentence before he started convulsing with joy. I glanced over at the duck that Smart was speaking about. It was running around the hut chasing something. It kept biting the floor and running into the wall. Soon I realized what was taking place. My pants were reflecting the light of the fire. Little concentrated beams of light were scattered on the floor and walls of the hut. The light of the fire had turned my pants into a disco ball. Every time I moved my legs the beams of light would also move. The duck was chasing one of the beams of light reflecting off of my pants. I couldn’t help but begin to laugh. Soon I was manipulating the beam of light the duck was chasing by moving my legs. I made the duck go wherever I wanted. Twice I made the duck run into the wall of the hut. Smart and I were laughing hysterically. “Wait” I thought. “This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be feeling so good.” Then the smoke lifted from my mind. Smart and I were completely high. Vivian’s magical powders that were thrown into the fire earlier had produced huge amounts of mind-expanding smoke. I leaned back and told Smart that we were on drugs. Smart laughed. While telling Smart to stop laughing I couldn’t help but laugh myself. Suddenly, Vivian’s chant changed. Smart leaned back and interpreted Vivian’s new curse for me.
“Your blood will spill, like a mighty river, before da sun rises.” Smart said. As Vivian cursed me he would periodically dip his hand into the wooden bowl he had set beside me earlier. Shortly after he would cock back his hand and slap my face. Soon both of my cheeks were red; covered with feathers, and stunk like raw chicken.
“I curse yo goats, and yo chickens an yo cattle. May rain never fall on yo fields. May yo wife’s breast never produce milk an yo children starve.” Smart chuckled as he continued the interpretation. He knew that I did not have chickens, goats, fields, a wife, or children. I guess that didn’t matter because Vivian still slapped me.
“…and I curse you Brian, friend of Kathy, may all that you love perish in infinite darkness.” Vivian stopped speaking then slapped me for the last time. Soon after Smart stopped translating. Vivian grabbed a goat. He positioned the goat’s neck directly in front of my face. Then he pulled out a long machete. I knew what was coming. The goat’s jugular vein was aimed to spray its contents all over me. This was going to be the third time in one day that I had had goat. Panicking, I looked around. All I saw was the duck chasing the beam. My eyes got wide. Vivian drew back the machete. Quickly, I positioned my legs so that a large beam of light that the duck had been chasing reflected off my pants and passed through Vivian’s grass skirt coming to rest on his testicles. The duck followed the beam and locked on to the condensed light like a ballistic missile. As the machete came down, the duck made contact with Vivian’s genitalia. Immediately, the machete dropped to the ground. Vivian’s jaw dropped and a lone tear trickled out of one eye. He then let out a scream so high pitched that it damaged my cochlea. The duck didn’t let go. It had finally caught the beam. Vivian turned and ran out of the hut still squealing. The duck dangled in between his legs and as he ran it bounced back and forth between his inner thighs. Regaining my senses, my hands strained for the machete. It had come to rest one half meter from my left side. Using all my strength I reached it. Moments later I had cut the ropes and both Smart and I had gained freedom. We exploded out of the hut going full speed and laughing. Turning to the left I saw Vivian killing the duck. To my right Vivian’s thugs were waking from their drunken stupor. Seeing the thugs reminded us of our danger. The joyful mood changed. Smart grabbed my arm. Moments later we were running full speed through a cornfield.
“He hates you Mr. Brain. He thinks Sister killed his brother.” Smart panted.
“What?” I replied. We stopped, coming to rest behind a log. Smart explained to me that Vivian’s brother had been killed in an automobile accident two years ago.
“Was Vivian’s brother a soldier?” I asked while I peeled the discolored picture off of my chest.
“Yes.” Smart said.
“Had Vivian’s brother taken a young girl hostage?” I asked while starring at the picture with disdain.
“How you know Mr. Brain?” Smart sounded surprised.
“I’ve heard this story before.” I replied. Smart continued to tell me about the connection. Vivian was in the army with his brother. He had participated in the kidnapping of the young girl that went to Kathy’s bible study. Vivian believed that Sister Kathy had put a curse on his brother the night he died. He hated and feared Sister. I tucked the picture into the pocket of my sweatshirt.
Voices began to close in on us. Vivian and his thugs had spread out and were moving through the field and approaching rapidly. Smart said that a main road was one hundred meters to the left of us. We began to run toward the road. “Zip-zip, zip-zip.” My pants refused to be silent. Fifty meters into the run Smart stopped us. We kneeled low.
“Yo pants, they are causing a… disturbance. They can hear you. They are following.” Smart looked distressed. His eyes darted back and forth to look behind him.
“What should I do?” I replied. Smart indicated that I needed to take my pants off. I agreed and the Hammer pants came off. I was now naked from the waist down. My underwear were back at Smart’s house covered with vomit. I tucked my Hammer pants underneath my arm. We got up cautiously, and then we ran. We hadn’t lost Vivian. The six men were right behind us. Suddenly as we ran, Smart disappeared in front of me. Moments later my foot hit an embankment and I fell. I found myself on top of Smart in the middle of a dirt road. Hearing a low rumble coming from my left side I knew that a large vehicle was approaching quickly. I looked to my left but all I could see was a blinding white light. Instinct took over and I covered myself with protection. That protection happened to be my pants. I lifted the shiny gold lame' up to the light and Smart and I each ducked under a pant leg, we cowered as our bodies froze in the middle of the road. Miraculously, the light vanished and I felt the wind hit my face as the vehicle barely missed me. Shortly after, the sound of bending metal and screaming echoed behind me. I turned around to face the place we had exited the field. A large rusty bus with no passengers was on the edge of the cornfield resting on the embankment that had made us stumble. The bus had lost its left front tire and smoke rose from its hood. It still had its lights on and illuminated six motionless bodies scattered out in front of it. Vivian was underneath the right front tire. His grass skirt was covered with blood. The guy without pants and one sandal had been decapitated. Moments later the driver exited the bus. His hands rubbed his eyes furiously as he knelt low to regain his balance. Frustration and anger filled his voice as he repeated the same line over and over in Shona.
“What’s he saying Smart?” I asked.
“My eyes, my eyes.” Smart replied. Silence. Smart grabbed my pants and kissed them. I slid both of my legs into the shiny gold lame' with pride. I pulled the picture out of my sweatshirt pocket and walked over to Vivian’s lifeless body. I released the picture and watched it fall to Vivian’s side. Smart put his arm around me and smiled. Slowly we made our way down the dirt road. We were linked together as we walked. Smart had decided not to wait for the police. We walked back to Smart’s house. The little lights of fires from neighboring huts glittered around us as we paced in unison down the road. As we made our way up the small path to the familiar group of huts we saw Mess outside. She was lying on a cardboard mat asleep next to the fire. We gently woke her. Smart gave Mess her medicine. I watched as Smart hugged his daughter and kissed her goodnight. Smart’s wife took Mess inside to sleep. It was late and the sun would be coming up soon. Smart invited me to his kitchen for some food. We sat around the fire eating sudsa and Tom.
“Smart, let me give you back your pants.” I said.
“No…Mr. Brain. You can keep. You need them mo than me.” Smart chuckled and smiled. I smiled back and shook my head. I thanked Smart for his generous gift.
“Kathy will never believe me.” I thought. Eventually sleep overtook us. The sun rose and upon waking I peeled my face off of the cold mud kitchen floor. I walked outside and saw that the Land Rover from the hospital had arrived to take me. Smart turned to look at me.
“Thank you for coming Mr. Brain,” Smart showed me his perfect teeth for the last time.
“Thank you for letting me stay with you, Smart.” I replied. Suddenly Smart’s eyes got wide, he rummaged into his pockets and pulled out a pencil. Shortly after he ran over to the cardboard mat that Mess was laying on the night before and pulled a corner of it off. He then scribbled his address on the piece of cardboard and handed it to me.
“Remember” he said.
Upon entering the vehicle Kathy turned around from the driver’s seat.
“How did it go?” She said. As we drove away the dust from the Land Rover cleared. I saw Mess, waving from the kitchen door.
نوع مطلب : داستان انگلیسی،
برچسب ها : داستان انگلیسی، داستان خواندنی،
لینک های مرتبط :
"Thank Lord the day is over", said Mrs. Harrison while finally climbing into the conjugal bed next to her husband.
It took her a long hour to prepare for the night after getting home from their friend Jones' retirement party; and her legs' muscles were aching even before the evening started. But things had to be done no matter how late the night was, and she wasn't a person to leave today's work for tomorrow. With a content heart she stretched her feet beneath the blankets, sighing with relief.
Mr.Harrison lowered the magazine he was reading and waited for her to settle down. Like every night, he was intermittently watching her errands above his thin reading glasses; tidying the closet, shutting the curtains, bringing water for the night, walking in and out the bathroom about tens of times - each time accompanied by subtle, pleasant smells - dressing for the night. Like a little bird fussing about her latest egg.
When she eventually laid her head on the pile of white, scrubbed pillows, he returned his attention toward the glossy pages.
"Martin", she spoke with her blue eyes fixed on the ceiling.
He lowered the magazine again.
"Did you take your pills?"
Once upon a time, when they decided that two kids was just about enough, it was his job to remind her taking the pills.
"Yes, I did."
She turned her glance to him.
"Maybe you should have skipped them this one time, you know? You did have a few glasses tonight."
Mr. Harrison considered the idea carefully.
"I don't think that should be a problem, honey. I only drank champagne, and you could imagine it was pretty weak."
"Yes, I noticed." she answered elusively. "Quite cheap champagne, if you ask me."
Mr. Harrison didn't ask, quietly trying to finish his article.
"Do you think they have financial problems? I mean, with their kids' troubles and all."
She was always worried about their friends' real or imaginary difficulties.
"Samuel Jones is always been a prudent person; I wouldn't expect him to ever have financial problems."
A little sigh got lost in the silent room.
She pulled the blanket away from her feet, slowly moving her red painted toes back and forth, causing small, relieving clacks. Mr. Harrison gave up his magazine.
"Florence, are you talking with Dr. Simmons about your joints?"
She addressed him a brave smile.
"Oh, it's nothing, dear, really. Just too much time in those tight shoes, that's all."
"I don't like those pain you have lately."
She concentrated on her toes.
"We can't fight age, can we? I'd say they are only normal signs of me getting older."
With that little philosophical remark, Mrs. Harrison took a book from her night stand drawer, and nestled herself even more comfortably.
Mr. Harrison mentally noted to talk that week with their physician, then glanced at his wife.
Maybe it was the champagne, or the happy knowledge that his own retirement was still few years away, or maybe it was the champagne AND the pills combined.
Maybe it was Mrs. Harrison's eyelids' shadow falling so sweet on her delicate cheeks' skin, as she read her book.
Fact is that Mr. Harrison felt a little... effervescent, so to speak. And his wife's night cream smelled really nice.
"Is that book any good at all?" he dutifully asked, taking his reading glasses off. As a veteran writer, he was always curious about books. As a veteran husband, he'd always tried to show interest in his wife's hobbies.
"I don't know so far. Too much thinking and remembering. I'll try few more pages; if they don't get to action, that's the end of it."
Mr. Harrison smiled; his wife had a very personal opinion on what a book should offer. He stretched his back slowly, then slipped a searching hand under his wife's blanket.
In perfect synchronization, Mrs. Harrison answered with a discreet yawn.
Her husband's hand took note but didn't hesitate; the sought warmth was really near.
"Martin, did you locked the entrance door?" she asked, suddenly worried.
"I did", he answered confidently.
"Are you sure?"
Mrs. Harrison had troubles finding the last line she'd been reading on the book's page.
"What do you think about a nice back massage, honey?" proposed Mr. Harrison generously. "You had a long day."
Whatever Mr. Harrisson's hand was doing under that blanket, it must have been directly related to his wife's vision, because the book got closer and closer to her nose.
"Oh, I don't know, dear. It would be nice, but we both had a long day, and tomorrow I have to wake up early. Don't we better leave it for some other time?" she asked with the most innocent voice.
Mr. Harrison counted 17 days in his head and called the soldiers home.
Then, optimistic as he always was, he thought it wasn't so bad after 30 years of marriage. From highly trusted sources he knew that for some of his friends, same age - different wives, making love was no more than a biannual event. He could consider himself lucky.
But even so, in this late hour of a cold November night, Mr. Harrison still felt a little charged. And he was a resourceful writer, with a plan B always in place. So he pulled out a disappointed hand and grabbed the magazine, resuming his lecture.
"You must be right, honey. I am also working tomorrow, so I'll have to wake up early too", he said blankly.
"Oh, another project?"
Mrs. Harrison's voice had a fresh note of interest, spiced with a tint of guilt.
"Nah, just an old client."
Her husband was also a gifted landscape designer; for the last twenty years or so his little local business provided for everything a decent household required, and then some more.
"Someone I know?"
"Mrs. Angelina Costello. I've told you about her."
Mrs. Harrison remembered that she heard quite a lot lately about Angelina Costello, the widow with a large inheritance and a new villa. She didn't like the kind of feelings this specific client caused her.
"The one who looks like Sophia Loren?"
Caught in the details of the latest architectural gems, Mr. Harrison nodded absently.
If you come to think about it, Sophia Loren was looking quite provocative.
"And what she needs this time?" Mrs. Harrison turned her book upside down on her lap, and carefully straightened some unseen folds on her blue blanket.
"Oh, I'm not sure, but she just widened her swimming pool, so I imagine most of the greenery is destroyed. Not much of a project, I guess."
Mrs. Harrison's eyebrows raised a bit.
"Then why not sending Billy over there? You can stay home and maybe work some more on your book."
Mr. Harrison eyes stared for a few seconds at the empty space in front of him, before meeting again the illustrated journal.
"No, it's okay. I love taking care of her place. It has a homely feeling, you know. And it makes me feel useful."
The invisible folds on Mrs. Harrison sheets seemed to alarmingly multiply.
"I imagine she's a nice person, if you prefer to personally handle all her projects."
"She is indeed. And very lonely in that big house since her husband died. It must be hard for her."
"Doesn't she have kids, or any family around?"
"She have two boys, but they are both living in New York."
Mrs. Harrison thought about that.
"Then maybe you could invite her over for lunch sometime. I would like to meet her."
"Well, I don't know if it's a good idea. She seems to be sensitive of people pitying her."
Mrs. Harrison eyebrows met for a short briefing session.
"How old did you say she is?"
"About your age, I think. Or maybe a couple of years younger; hard to say since she's taking care of herself so well."
She threw him a cold look.
For a while only the sound of turned pages bothered the night's peace.
"Well, I think I'll go to sleep now, Martin."
"Oh, yes. I AM a little old and tired, after all."
Mr. Harrison finally turned his glare to her, just in time to meet her back, as she put off the night lamp on her side of the bed.
"Good night, dear", she said, and covered herself up to the ears.
Shadows and silence engulfed the bedroom.
Once again Mr. Harrison put the magazine and the reading glasses away.
"Florence", he said to his wife's back, which didn't quite answered him.
"You know I love you very much, don't you?"
The only answer was the unaffected silence. Mr. Harrison came closer and embraced the clump of blankets wearing his wife's head.
"Honey, you are the only one for me. Even if you don't look like Sophia Loren."
A timid chuckle escaped the coverings.
"You are the only one I ever wanted," he said tenderly, now caressing her turned head.
She stirred in her hiding, bending an attentive ear toward him.
"And for me, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. No matter how old or how tired you are. You know that, don't you?"
Mrs. Harrison emerged from her wrappings and hugged him tight, her blue eyes bright with emotion.
"Oh, Martin, I was hoping you will say that... I love you too, dear", she said warmly.
Mr. Harrison kissed his wife with infinite affection, which in turn stretched her hand and put his night lamp off.
"Thank you, Mrs. Angelina Costello", he thought, smiling in the dark, imagining the heroine of his latest story nodding sympathetically from the manuscript pages. What a luck his wife only read action books.
Then he made love with her, tenderly and lovingly, as he did for more than 30 years.
نوع مطلب : داستان انگلیسی،
برچسب ها :
لینک های مرتبط :
You want to know why I, Lily Luna Potter hate Lysander Scamander? You really want to know? Well fine, I'll tell you. I've nothing to hide and I certainly don't care if it hurts his feelings, he has all of this coming anyways.
First off, I hate how Lysander thinks he's better than me. The idiot thinks he is better than me! Hah! Just proves how stupid Lysander is! Nobody is better than me! Could Lysander cast a fully formed Patronus at eleven? No, he couldn't but I did! Can Lysander score ten goals in a Quidditch match in less than ten minutes? No, he can't (mostly because he plays keeper) but I did. Was it Lysander who became a prefect and then became Head Boy? No, it wasn't but I became a prefect and Head Girl! Is Lysander considered a magical prodigy? No, he isn't but I am! So there Lysander I'm better than you! Remember that!
Next I hate how Lysander calls me 'Lil' all the time. Nobody except Mum and Dad are allowed to call me 'Lil' not even James and Albus are allowed to call me 'Lil'. I swear if Lysander calls me 'Lil' one more time I'll make him wish he was never born. Although I do have a little revenge by calling him 'Sander' all the time, and he hates that name.
I hate how Lysander goes out with every skank in Hogwarts and then when he finds out their cheating on him, he refuses to believe it! What does he think this is? A sappy romance novel? Grow up! Life sucks and anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell you something. He's so damn stupid! Can't see what's in front of his own pathetic face!
I hate how Lysander will let Lorcan try out anything he invents on him. Jesus Christ! He would take poison if Lorcan asked him too! There is a little word he needs to learn: NO! His hair's now permanently dyed black because of one of Lorcan's spells and we've tried everything short of shaving his head to get it back to dirty blond again, it hasn't worked. Just last week he let Lysander transfigure him into a bird then Lorcan forgot the spell to change him back! Had to take the idiot to Madame Pomfrey! If I have to sit through another one of Madame Pomfrey's lectures on responsibility I'll shoot myself with that muggle gun Grandpa Weasley likes to take apart and rebuild.
I hate when Lysander tries to teach Hugo how to pick up girls. Poor Hugo, goes mute whenever he's confronted with a girl who isn't a family member. Lysander teaches him these stupid pick up lines like this doosy:
"Your ass must be jelly 'cause jam don't shake like that."
I fear for humanity if Hugo actually manages to pick up a girl with a line like that.
I hate when Lysander tells me he's really Lorcan in disguise. I've known Lorcan and Lysander since we were eight years old and even before the incident with Lysander's hair, I could tell them apart with only a sideways glance. For example; Lorcan's eyes are more silver than Lysander's, Lysander has a birthmark on the back of his neck that's sort of shaped like Mickey Mouse's head, Lorcan is slightly taller than Lysander the list goes on. What on earth gave him the idea he could pretend that he's Lorcan, it might have worked when I only just met him but it sure as hell doesn't work now.
I hate how we can almost never have a civil conversation with each other. Almost every conversation ends in a spectacularly huge argument over something insignificant. Thank God Hugo and/or Lorcan are always there because if they weren't I'd have killed him by now, and I'm not exaggerating before you roll your eyes. Even when we do manage to have a civil conversation I always end up irritated at the end by something Lysander's said.
I hate how sometimes during Quidditch practice he lifts up his shirt and wipes away his sweat just so he can show off his abs to the girls. Self absorbed much? What also irks me is that half the girls swoon over him.
I really hate how Lysander reminds me I've never had a boyfriend when I rant about his stupid ditzy blond girlfriend. Yes, it's true I've never had a boyfriend even though I'm sixteen and quite pretty thank you very much! So what if I've never kissed a boy or had a boyfriend his girlfriend is still a skanky ditzy blond and nothing he says to me about my love life (or lack thereof) is going to change that.
I hate the fact that after all this nit picking, ranting, raving and snide remarks which should have ended our friendship long before, I still love Lysander Scamander. I hate how I think he's the one for me even though most days I can't stand being near him. It's infuriating how I get slightly nervous when he says he wants to 'tell me something' and then get really disappointed (although I never show it) when he tells me he's going out with whoever. It annoys me how sometimes I sit up imagining our wedding and our kids even though I know he isn't interested in me. Sometimes I like to imagine he dates all those girls because he's so deep in 'de nile' about his feelings for me that he's drowning.
So there's your answer that is why I hate Lysander Scamander. I hate him but I secretly love him. Hey, I was never going to make it easy for him now was I.
نوع مطلب : داستان انگلیسی،
برچسب ها : داستان عاشقانه، داستان انگلیسی،
لینک های مرتبط :
Did you know that an eagle knows when a storm is approaching long before it breaks?
The eagle will fly to some high spot and wait for the winds to come. When the storm hits, it sets its wings so that the wind will pick it up and lift it above the storm. While the storm rages below, the eagle is soaring above it.
The eagle does not escape the storm. It simply uses the storm to lift it higher. It rises on the winds that bring the storm.
When the storms of life come upon us - and all of us will experience them - we can rise above them by setting our minds and our belief toward God. The storms do not have to overcome us. We can allow God's power to lift us above them.
God enables us to ride the winds of the storm that bring sickness, tragedy, failure and disappointment in our lives. We can soar above the storm.
Remember, it is not the burdens of life that weigh us down, it is how we handle them.
نوع مطلب : داستان کوتاه انگلیسی،
برچسب ها :
لینک های مرتبط :
"A son and his father were walking on the mountains.
Suddenly, his son falls, hurts himself and screams: "AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"
To his surprise, he hears the voice repeating, somewhere in the mountain:
Curious, he yells: "Who are you?"
He receives the answer: "Who are you?"
And then he screams to the mountain: "I admire you!"
The voice answers: "I admire you!"
Angered at the response, he screams: "Coward!"
He receives the answer: "Coward!"
He looks to his father and asks: "What's going on?"
The father smiles and says: "My son, pay attention."
Again the man screams: "You are a champion!"
The voice answers: "You are a champion!"
The boy is surprised, but does not understand.
Then the father explains: "People call this ECHO, but really this is LIFE.
It gives you back everything you say or do.
Our life is simply a reflection of our actions.
If you want more love in the world, create more love in your heart.
If you want more competence in your team, improve your competence.
This relationship applies to everything, in all aspects of life;
Life will give you back everything you have given to it."
YOUR LIFE IS NOT A COINCIDENCE. IT'S A REFLECTION OF YOU!"
-- Unknown Author
نوع مطلب : داستان کوتاه انگلیسی،
برچسب ها :
لینک های مرتبط :
Inspirational love stories Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness,
Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that the island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment. When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help.
Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you."
Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!"
"I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you."
"Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself!" Happiness passed by Love, too, but she was so happy that she did not even hear when Love called her. Suddenly, there was a voice, "Come, Love, I will take you." It was an elder. So blessed and overjoyed, Love even forgot to ask the elder where they were going. When they arrived at dry land, the elder went her own way. Realizing how much was owed the elder, Love asked Knowledge, another elder, "Who Helped me?"
"It was Time," Knowledge answered. "Time?" asked Love. "But why did Time help me?" Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and answered, "Because only Time is capable of understanding how valuable Love is."
نوع مطلب : داستان کوتاه انگلیسی،
برچسب ها : داستان انگلیسی، یادگیری زبان،
لینک های مرتبط :