Мор - ученик смерти

           Thisisthebrightcandlelitroom wherethelife-timersarestored shelfuponshelfofthem,squathourglasses, oneforeverylivingperson,pouringtheirfinesandfromthefutureintothepast. Theaccumulatedhissofthefallinggrainsmakestheroomroarlikethesea. 

           Thisistheowneroftheroom,stalkingthroughitwithapreoccupiedair. HisnameisDeath. 

           ButnotanyDeath. ThisistheDeathwhoseparticularsphereofoperationsis,well,notasphereatall, buttheDiscworld, whichisflatandridesonthebackoffourgiantelephants whostandontheshelloftheenormousstarturtleGreatA’Tuin, andwhichisboundedbyawaterfallthatcascadesendlesslyintospace. 

           Scientistshavecalculatedthatthechanceofanythingsopatentlyabsurdactuallyexistingaremillionstoone. 

           Butmagicianshavecalculatedthatmillion-to-onechancescropupninetimesoutoften. 

           Deathclicksacrosstheblackandwhitetiledfloor ontoesofbone,mutteringinsidehiscowlashisskeletalfingerscountalongtherowsofbusyhourglasses. 

           Finallyhefindsonethatseemstosatisfyhim, liftsitcarefullyfromitsshelfandcarriesitacrosstothenearestcandle. Heholdsitsothatthelightlintsoffit, andstaresatthelittlepointofreflectedbrilliance. 

Содержание книги
    Нет глав
Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 1 из 292