Марсианские хроники

           "Heregoesnothing!"Andsuddenlyoneofthemtookoff,intotheneareststonehouse,throughthedoor,acrossthelivingroom,andintothebedroomwhere,withouthalflooking,hewouldkickabout,thrashhisfeet,andtheblackleaveswouldflythroughtheair,brittle,thinastissuecutfrommidnightsky.Behindhimwouldracesixothers,andthefirstboytherewouldbetheMusician,playingthewhitexylophonebonesbeneaththeoutercoveringofblackflakes.Agreatskullwouldrolltoview,likeasnowball;theyshouted!Ribs,likespiderlegs,plangentasadullharp,andthentheblackflakesofmortalityblowingallaboutthemintheirscufflingdance;theboyspushedandheavedandfellintheleaves,inthedeaththathadturnedthedeadtoflakesanddryness,intoagameplayedbyboyswhosestomachsgurgledwithorangepop.

           Andthenoutofonehouseintoanother,intoseventeenhouses,mindfulthateachofthetownsinitsturnwasbeingburnedcleanofitshorrorsbytheFiremen,antisepticwarriorswithshovelsandbins,shovelingawayattheebonytattersandpeppermint-stickbones,slowlybutassuredlyseparatingtheterriblefromthenormal;sotheymustplayveryhard,theseboys,theFiremenwouldsoonbehere!

           Then,luminouswithsweat,theygnashedattheirlastsandwiches.Withafinalkick,afinalmarimbaconcert,afinalautumnallungethroughleafstacks,theywenthome.

           Theirmothersexaminedtheirshoesforblackflakeletswhich,whendiscovered,resultedinscaldingbathsandfatherlybeatings