JК
Тёмный карнавал (Dark Carnival), 1947 :: Брэдбери Рэй
Страница: 3 из 114The lessseen or said of the imperfect son the better.
All through the house below, Laura ran.
"The Homecoming!" she shouted gaily. "The Homecoming!" Her footsteps everywhere at once.
Timothy passed Cecy's room again, and she was sleeping quietly. Once a month she went belowstairs. Always she stayed in bed. Lovely Cecy. He felt like asking her, "Where are you now, Cecy? And in who? And what's happening? Are you beyond the hills? And what goes on there?" But he went on to Ellen's room instead.
Ellen sat at her desk, sorting out many kinds of blond, red and black hair and little scimitars of fingernail gathered from her manicurist job at the Mellin Village beauty parlor fifteen miles over. A sturdy mahogany case lay in one corner with her name on it.
"Go away," she said, not even looking at him. "I can't work with you gawking."
"Allhallows Eve, Ellen; just think!" he said, trying to be friendly.
"Hunh!" She put some fingernail clippings in a small white sack, labeled them. "What can it mean to you? What do you know of it? It'll scare the hell out of you. Go back to bed."
His cheeks burned. "I'm needed to polish and work and help serve."
"If you don't go, you'll find a dozen raw oysters in your bed tomorrow," said Ellen, matter-of-factly. "Good-by, Timothy."
In his anger, rushing downstairs, he bumped into Laura.
"Watch where you're going!" she shrieked from clenched teeth.
She swept away. He ran to the open cellar door, smelled the channel of moist earthy air rising from below. "Father?"
"It's about time," Father shouted up the steps. "Hurry down, or they'll be here before we're ready!"
Timothy hesitated only long enough to hear the million other sounds in the house. Brothers came and went like trains in a station, talking and arguing. If you stood in one spot long enough the entire household passed with their pale hands full of things. Leonard with his little black medical case, Samuel with his large, dusty ebony-bound book under his arm, bearing more black crape, and Bion excursioning to the car outside and bringing in many more gallons of liquid.
Father stopped polishing to give Timothy a rag and a scowl. He thumped the huge mahogany box. "Come on, shine this up, so we can start on another. Sleep your life away."
While waxing the surface. Timothy looked inside.
"Uncle Einar's a big man, isn't he, Papa?"
"Unh."
"How big is he?"
"The size of the box'll tell you."
"I was only asking. Seven feet tall?"
"You talk a lot.
All through the house below, Laura ran.
"The Homecoming!" she shouted gaily. "The Homecoming!" Her footsteps everywhere at once.
Timothy passed Cecy's room again, and she was sleeping quietly. Once a month she went belowstairs. Always she stayed in bed. Lovely Cecy. He felt like asking her, "Where are you now, Cecy? And in who? And what's happening? Are you beyond the hills? And what goes on there?" But he went on to Ellen's room instead.
Ellen sat at her desk, sorting out many kinds of blond, red and black hair and little scimitars of fingernail gathered from her manicurist job at the Mellin Village beauty parlor fifteen miles over. A sturdy mahogany case lay in one corner with her name on it.
"Go away," she said, not even looking at him. "I can't work with you gawking."
"Allhallows Eve, Ellen; just think!" he said, trying to be friendly.
"Hunh!" She put some fingernail clippings in a small white sack, labeled them. "What can it mean to you? What do you know of it? It'll scare the hell out of you. Go back to bed."
His cheeks burned. "I'm needed to polish and work and help serve."
"If you don't go, you'll find a dozen raw oysters in your bed tomorrow," said Ellen, matter-of-factly. "Good-by, Timothy."
In his anger, rushing downstairs, he bumped into Laura.
"Watch where you're going!" she shrieked from clenched teeth.
She swept away. He ran to the open cellar door, smelled the channel of moist earthy air rising from below. "Father?"
"It's about time," Father shouted up the steps. "Hurry down, or they'll be here before we're ready!"
Timothy hesitated only long enough to hear the million other sounds in the house. Brothers came and went like trains in a station, talking and arguing. If you stood in one spot long enough the entire household passed with their pale hands full of things. Leonard with his little black medical case, Samuel with his large, dusty ebony-bound book under his arm, bearing more black crape, and Bion excursioning to the car outside and bringing in many more gallons of liquid.
Father stopped polishing to give Timothy a rag and a scowl. He thumped the huge mahogany box. "Come on, shine this up, so we can start on another. Sleep your life away."
While waxing the surface. Timothy looked inside.
"Uncle Einar's a big man, isn't he, Papa?"
"Unh."
"How big is he?"
"The size of the box'll tell you."
"I was only asking. Seven feet tall?"
"You talk a lot.