Leendet | Svenskanoveller Wiki | Fandom powered by Wikia. Av Ray Bradbury Kön hade bildats på stadens torg klockan fem på morgonen, medan tupparna gol långt ute på den rimfrosttäckta landsbygden, och det fanns inga eldar. Först hade dimtussar klängt sig fast överallt bland de förstörda byggnaderna men när solen gick upp vid sjutiden började de skingras. Nere på gatan samlades människor i små grupper på två eller tre till marknadsdagen, till festdagen. Den lille pojken stod alldeles bakom två män som hade samtalat högt i den klara luften och allt de sade lät dubbelt så högt på grund av kylan. Den lille pojken stampade med fötterna och andades på sina röda nariga händer och tittade upp på karlarnas smutsiga kläder av säckväv och längs den långa raden av män och kvinnor framför honom. "Vad har du ute att göra så tidigt, pojke?
" sade mannen bakom honom. Äntligen stod de ute på torget. Ur "Det eviga regnets dag", Norstedts 1963.
All summer in a day. Leendet | Svenskanoveller Wiki | Fandom powered by Wikia. Ray Bradbury Sci-Fi Predictions Fulfilled - Infographic. Sci/fi-novell Ray Bradbury – Savannen – Terese klassrum. Idag kommer du att få läsa Ray Bradburys novell Savannen. Men först! Minns du vilka de fem typdragen för en novell är? Uppgift: Läs novellen Savannen – Ray Bradbury och fundera samt ge svar på i ditt skrivhäfte eller via Google formulär nedan på följande frågor: 1.Ett kännetecken för genren sci/fi är modern teknik och vetenskap. Ge ett utförligt exempel på ett sådant i novellen. 2. 3. 4. 5. – Var är George och Lydia i slutet av novellen när barnen äter utflyktslunch i barnkammaren? 3. A Story of Love. Undefined Ray Bradbury That was the week Ann Taylor came to teach summer school at Green Town Central. It was the summer of her twenty-fourth birthday, and it was the summer when Bob Spaulding was just fourteen.
Everyone remembered Ann Taylor, for she was that teacher for whom all the children wanted to bring huge oranges or pink flowers, and for whom they rolled up the rustling green and yellow maps of the world without being asked. She was that woman who always seemed to be passing by on days when the shade was green under the tunnels of oaks and elms in the old town, her face shifting with the bright shadows as she walked, until it was all things to all people.
She was the fine peaches of summer in the snow of winter, and she was cool milk for cereal on a hot early-June morning. Whenever you needed an opposite, Ann Taylor was there. "My name is Ann Taylor," she said, quietly. That day, after class, he brought in a bucket of water and a rag and began to wash the boards. "What's this? " The Small Assassin. Just when the idea occurred to her that she was being murdered she could not tell. There had been little subtle signs, little suspicions for the past month; things as deep as sea tides in her, like looking at a perfectly calm stretch of tropic water, wanting to bathe in it and finding, just as the tide takes your body, that monsters dwell just under the surface, things unseen, bloated, many-armed, sharp-finned, malignant and inescapable.
A room floated around her in an effiuvium of hysteria. Sharp instruments hovered and there were voices, and people in sterile white masks. My name, she thought, what is it? Alice Leiber. It came to her. I am being murdered before their eyes. I am dying and I can't tell them now. Where is David? Sweat exploded from all of her body at once, and with it an agonized cry. There was a hollowness. Footsteps. Far away, a voice said, "She's asleep. An odor of tweeds, a pipe, a certain shaving lotion. She did not open her eyes. David stood over her. "Why! " Dr. Dr. The October Game. The Rocket Man. The Gift. The Gift by Ray Bradbury Tomorrow would be Christmas, and even while the three of them rode to the rocket port the mother and father were worried. It was the boy's first flight into space, his very first time in a rocket, and they wanted everything to be perfect. So when, at the customs table, they were forced to leave behind his gift, which exceeded the weight limit by no more than a few ounces, and the little tree with the lovely white candles, they felt themselves deprived of the season and their love.
The boy was waiting for them in the terminal room. Walking toward him, after their unsuccessful clash with the Inter-planetary officials, the mother and father whispered to each other. "What shall we do? " "Nothing, nothing. "Silly rules! " "And he so wanted the tree! " The siren gave a great howl and people pressed forward into the Mars Rocket. "I'll think of something," said the father. "What...? " And the rocket took off and they were flung headlong into dark space. The mother started. 1. 2. The April Witch. Into the air, over the valleys, under the stars, above a river, a pond, a road, flew Cecy. Invisible as new spring winds, fresh as the breath of clover rising from twilight fields, she flew.
She soared in doves as soft as white ermine, stopped in trees and lived in blossoms, showering away in petals when the breeze blew. She perched in a limegreen frog, cool as mint by a shining pool. She trotted in a brambly dog and barked to hear echoes from the sides of distant barns. She lived in new April grasses, in sweet clear liquids rising from the musky earth. It's spring, thought Cecy. I'll be in every living thing in the world tonight. Now she inhabited neat crickets on the tar-pool roads, now prickled in dew on an iron gate. "I want to be in love," she said. She had said it at supper.
"Yes," she sighed. The wind whipped her away over fields and meadows. She saw the warm spring lights of cottages and farms glowing with twilight colours. Cecy fell - a green leaf- into the well. The girl gasped. The Dog In The Red Bandana. In memory of the master storyteller, who died yesterday, we thought we’d repost this absolute must-must-must-read short story, which was written… two years ago when he was 89. Needless to say, it caused a little stir among his fanbase, as it is so, well, you’ll see. The patient was in the hospital only three long sad days when on a Sunday, with all the doctors mostly absent and the nurses off doing something no one knew, that the remarkable thing happened. He could hear the approach of the remarkable event moments before its arrival because of the explosions of laughter and the welcoming cries of patients far down the hall.
At long last the remarkable event arrived in the door. A man stood there and on the end of a leash he held the most beautiful golden retriever that anyone had ever seen. The retriever was incredibly handsome and well groomed and had a look of bright intelligence and wore around his neck a neatly tied bandana, the color of blood. “Sir?” The blind man nodded, quietly. The Lake. Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury. The Drummer Boy of Shiloh. Embroidery. The Laurel and Hardy Love Affair. He called her Stanley, she called him Ollie. That was the beginning, that was the end, of what we will call the Laurel and Hardy love affair. She was twenty-five, he was thirty-two when they met at one of those dumb cocktail parties where everyone wonders what they are doing there.
But no one goes home, so everyone drinks too much and lies about how grand a late afternoon it all was. They did not, as often happens, see each other across a crowded room, and if there was romantic music to background their collision, it couldn’t be heard. For everyone was talking at one person and staring at someone else. They were, in fact, ricocheting through a forest of people, but finding no shade trees. “Stan!” “Ollie!” “Why don’t you do something to help me!” They grabbed each others arms, laughing again. “I-” She said, and her face brightened even more. “Well,” he cried, “let’s get out of here!” His car door slammed, his car engine roared. Los Angeles raced by in late afternoon sunlight.
“Hold it!” “And?” The Illustrated Man. August 2026: There Will Come Soft Rains. The Last Night of the World. Originally published in the February 1951 issue of Esquire "What would you do if you knew this was the last night of the world? " "What would I do; you mean, seriously? " "Yes, seriously. " "I don't know — I hadn't thought. He poured some coffee. "Well, better start thinking about it," he said. "You don't mean it? " He nodded. "A war? " He shook his head. "Not the hydrogen or atom bomb? " "No. " "Or germ warfare? " "None of those at all," he said, stirring his coffee slowly and staring into its black depths. "I don't think I understand. " "No, nor do I really. "What? " "A dream I had.
"It was the same dream? " "Yes. "And all of them had dreamed? " "All of them. "Do you believe in the dream? " "Yes. "And when will it stop? "Sometime during the night for us, and then, as the night goes on around the world, those advancing portions will go, too. They sat awhile not touching their coffee. "Do we deserve this? " "It's not a matter of deserving, it's just that things didn't work out. "I guess I have a reason," she said. The Pedestrian. A Sound of Thunder. The sign on the wall seemed to quaver under a film of sliding warm water.
Eckels felt his eyelids blink over his stare, and the sign burned in this momentary darkness: Warm phlegm gathered in Eckels' throat; he swallowed and pushed it down. The muscles around his mouth formed a smile as he put his hand slowly out upon the air, and in that hand waved a check for ten thousand dollars to the man behind the desk. "Does this safari guarantee I come back alive? " "We guarantee nothing," said the official, "except the dinosaurs. " He turned. Eckels glanced across the vast office at a mass and tangle, a snaking and humming of wires and steel boxes, at an aurora that flickered now orange, now silver, now blue. A touch of the hand and this burning would, on the instant, beautifully reverse itself. "Unbelievable. " "Yes," said the man behind the desk. "Shooting my dinosaur," Eckels finished it for him. "A Tyrannosaurus Rex. Eckels flushed angrily. "Frankly, yes. "Can these guns get a dinosaur cold?
" The Veldt. The One Who Waits. Your analysis of the story, the best one will be duly awarded and placed here. The first contestant is from Estonia. The second contestant is from Moscow. Ray Bradbury I live in a well. Now it is morning. Voices. "All right! " One voice. "Send the men out! " A crunching in crystal sands. "Mars! "Where's the flag? " "Here, sir. " "Good, good. " The sun is high in the blue sky and its golden rays fill the well and I hang like a flower pollen, invisible and misting in the warm light.
Voices. "In the name ot the Government of Earth, I proclaim this to be the Martian Territory, to be equally divided among the member nations. " What are they saying? "What's over here? " "A well! " ' "No! " "Come on. The approach of warmth. "Great! " "Think it's good water? " "We'll see. " "Someone get a lab test bottle and a dropline.
" "I will! " A sound of running. "Here we are. " I wait. "Let it down. Glass shines, above, coming down on a slow line. The water ripples softly as the glass touches and fills. "Here we are. "Let's have it. " "Yes. " The Happiness Machine.