著名英文小说短篇片段

1. 英文短篇小说《the blue jar》（Isak Dinesen的）中文翻译。

英国一位富有的老先生，年轻时任过内阁大臣，也当选过议会议员；如今年纪大了，无欲无求，独爱搜藏青瓷老古董。为此他偕同女儿海琳娜，不惜远渡重洋到波斯，日本还有中国寻觅爱物。一个寂静之夜，这对父女坐的轮船进入中国海域时意外失火了。漆黑和混乱之中，别的乘客很快转移到救生船中，海琳娜却还在着火的船上，就这样与老父亲断了联系。等她逃上甲板，整艘船已被烧毁得差不多了，眼看就要将她葬身火海。这时一位年轻的英国水手出现了，二话不说背起她，安全登上最后那只被逃生者们慌乱之下遗忘的救生船。黑暗的海面泛起大片磷光，犹如大火从四面八方涌来，追赶吞噬着这两个亡命者。彼时，二人仰起头，一颗流星划过夜空，好像瞬间就要落入他们船里一样。整整九天过去，两人才被救上一条荷兰商船，最后总算回到了英国。

原以为女儿早已葬身火海的老爵士这会是喜极而泣，不能自已。为了让身心受难的女儿尽早康复，老先生匆匆将她安顿在一个温泉疗养胜地。他还想到，万一这个在航海业谋生的年轻水手大嘴巴，全世界都会知道海伦娜和一个陌生男人孤男寡女在海上漂了九天，这肯定会让女儿很不开心。于是老爵士给了水手一大笔钱，并让他承诺只在另一个半球继续航海，永远不再回英国。老先生说，这不正是好人做到底吗？

海伦娜身体恢复得差不多时，旁人给她讲王宫和家族的动态，最后还说了那个救她的年轻水手永远离开英国的来龙去脉，他们发现海伦娜精神上依旧受那次大难折磨着，而且她变得对世间一切事都不在乎了。她不想回到父亲大庄园的城堡，也不想去宫里，或游览任何一个欧洲怡人小镇。她唯一想要做的事就是和父亲以前一样，去搜集珍稀青瓷。于是海琳娜开始航海旅行，从一个国家到另一个国家，这次是父亲一直陪在左右。

寻找青瓷时，海琳娜跟卖瓷器的人说，她正在找一种特别的蓝色，愿意为之付出任何代价。她买过数千只青瓷罐和瓷碗，但过一段时间就搁到一旁，叹道：“唉，这不是我想要的那种蓝呢。” 陪她航行多年的父亲劝道：也许根本就没有这种颜色存在吧。“天啊，爸爸，你怎能说这种丧气话呢？曾几何时我们的世界一切都是蓝蓝的，肯定会有那么一些遗留下来啊。”海琳娜十分坚定地说。

远在英国的两位姑妈都恳求外甥女回家，并要给她介绍好人家。但海琳娜回答说：“不不不，我必须去航行。亲爱的姑姑啊，你们一定都知道，有学之士宣扬大海是有底的，那是谬论胡说。正好相反，大自然中最高贵的海水，肯定是贯通大地的，所以我们的地球实际上像一个肥皂泡般浮在宇宙之中。而在另一个半球有这么一艘船航行着，我的船必须跟它齐驱并驾。在深海之中，两只船像是彼此的倒影。我乘的船正下方就是前面所说的那艘船，它就在地球的另一面行驶着。你们从没见过会有一条很大很大的鱼在船底之下，如一个暗黑的影子在海里随船而行吧。但我们这两艘船恰恰就是这样，不管我坐的船在地球大部分区域穿行到哪，另一个半球那只船就像影子一样，被牵引着来回移动，这和潮水在月亮的引力下涨起退去是差不多的道理。如果我停止航行，那些靠航海谋生的出身不好的水手怎么办？” 海琳娜还说：“我得告诉你们一个秘密，在最后的最后，我坐的船会下沉，直到地球中心，另一只船也会在同一时间沉下来，就如通常人们说的沉没。但我可以向你们保证，在海里没有你上我下，因为在世界的最中心，我们两只船会相遇在一起。

一年又一年过去，老爵士作古了，海伦娜也变成失聪的老太太，却未曾停止航行。大清帝国的颐和园被入侵洗劫后，有位商人给她带来了一个古老的青瓷罐。一看到它海琳娜就发出一声可怕的尖叫：“就是它！”她哭喊着：“我总算找到了！这是真正的蓝！瞧，它真让人晕眩！天啊，它清新得像一阵柔美的微风，又深邃得好如一个玄妙的秘密，还圆润得像我说过的什么来着？”海琳娜双手颤颤巍巍，将瓷罐捧入怀里，静静凝思着，六个小时就这么过去了。其后她对私人医生和女伴说：“现在我可以死去了。到时请把我的心取出来，安放在这个青瓷罐里，那样一切都回到最初的模样。我的世界会化作蓝色，在这个纯蓝天地的最中心，我的心纯洁而自由，还会温柔地跳动，像轮船航海的尾波轻轻哼唱，像桨叶划动的水滴盈盈滑落。”一小会儿后她问到：“相信只要怀着耐心，一切美好都能重现——这不是一件很杏糊的事吗？” 不久之后，老太太离开了人世。

2. 海明威的小说The killers的主题是什么，200左右，英文的~谢谢~

写作思路：首先要了解海明威的小说《杀手》的主要内容，然后梳理文章的主要情节，比如海明威的《杀手》是一篇耐人寻味、含义深刻的故事，从其结构形式和思想主题上来考察，都是一篇完美无缺的短篇小说典范。

正文：

"The killer" is about two killers who are hired to come to a small restaurant. They tie up the chef and wait for the boxer to appear. However, the murder plan fails because the boxer doesn't come. Little guy Nick rushed to the boxer's small apartment to inform the news, but saw that the boxer was indifferent to the impending death, waiting to be captured. Shocked, Nick returns to the restaurant and is determined to leave the city.

《杀手》讲述了两个杀手受人雇佣来到一家小餐馆，一边捆绑伙计厨师，一边等待拳击手的出现，谋杀计划却因拳击手没来而告失败。小伙计尼克赶到拳击手的小公寓去通风报信，却见拳击手对即将面临的杀身之祸无动于衷，等待束手就擒。倍感震惊的尼克回到餐馆，决意离开这个城市。

Hemingway's "the killer" is an intriguing and profound story. From the perspective of its structure and theme, it is a perfect short story model. Because of its superb narrative art and strong drama, his works are frequently included in various literary books and adapted into films for three times. Meanwhile, it has attracted the attention of literary researchers and critics.

海明威的《杀手》是一篇耐人寻味、含义深刻的故事，从其结构形式和思想主题上来考察，都是一篇完美无缺的短篇小说典范。因其高超的叙述艺术与浓厚的戏剧性，作品频繁地被收录到各种文学读本，并三次被改编成电影，同时还不停地受到文学研究者和批评界的关注。

The killer, published in 1927, is one of Hemingway's works after experiencing the first World War. It also shows his confused feelings.

《杀手》发表于1927年，也就是海明威经历了第一次世界大战后所作的作品之一，同样流露出了迷惘的情感。

The original intention of the lost generation is to refer to the young people who were killed in the first World War and those who survived but were in a state of spiritual and moral dissociation. In the history of literature, it refers to the American novelists who express the feelings of the lost generation. Hemingway is the leader of this group of writers.

迷惘的一代原意是指在第一次世界大战中被杀害的年轻人和幸存下来但在精神上和道德上处于游离状况的年轻人，而在文学史上是指表现迷惘一代生存下来的情感的美国小说家，其中海明威是这一作家群的领头羊。

The so-called perplexity is actually a kind of disillusionment after the war, that is, the worry about people's living conditions is not ideal. It is the writer's strong reaction to the impact of war, violence and death threat on people.

所谓迷惘，其实是指战后的一种幻灭的情绪，即对人们生存状况不理想所表现出的忧虑，是作家对战争、暴力和死亡威胁给人们带来的影响的强烈反应。

3. 跪求3-5篇英语短篇小说的主要内容与人物评价！！！（用英文！~）

2. In a small town of st petersburg, have a very naughty, but a good boy, tom, he hates school for the insipidity of the life, hoping that can and the like the exciting life. one day, tom and huckleberry had left home and went to a desert island, a few days of his life. they know that a case, a critical moment, tom has a very fierce ： joe. tom was afraid of retaliation by joe,Was always uneasy. he and huckleberry a haunted house when he found joe, then the murderer death in the cave. tom and huck ley had a lot of coins.

1。The old man and the sea is a fisherman eighty-four days have hooked a fish, and nearly died of hunger ； but he still wouldn't admit defeat in the eighty-fifth day catches a great fish. fish mullin pulled the boat to the sea, but the old man still held, even if there is no water, no food, no, no, he does not lose heart. after two days and nights later, he eventually killed the fish, and put it on a ship.But many of the shark was immediately come to rob him of killing them, all ； him to last only a broken on the tiller as a weapon. however, the fish were still wet, finally, the old man just dragged a 鱼骨 head. he went home in bed, from dreams of yesteryear to find a good time.

4. 急需一个英文短篇小说 500〜800字！求快！要原创型的！

El Sordo was making his fight on a hilltop. He did not like this hill and when he saw it he thought it had the shape of a chancre. But he had had no choice except this hill and he had picked it as far away as he could see it and galloped for it, the automatic rifle heavy on his back, the horse laboring, barrel heaving between his thighs, the sack of grenades swinging against one side, the sack of automatic rifle pans banging against the other, and Joaqu璯 and Ignacio halting and firing, halting and firing to give him time to get the gun in place.
There had still been snow then, the snow that had ruined them, and when his horse was hit so that he wheezed in a slow, jerking, climbing stagger up the last part of the crest, splattering the snow with a bright, pulsing jet, Sordo had hauled him along by the bridle, the reins over his shoulder as he climbed. He climbed as hard as he could with the bullets spatting on the rocks, with the two sacks heavy on his shoulders, and then, holding the horse by the mane, had shot him quickly, expertly, and tenderly just where he had needed him, so that the horse pitched, head forward down to plug a gap between two rocks. He had gotten the gun to firing over the horse's back and he fired two pans, the gun clattering, the empty shells pitching into the snow, the smell of burnt hair from the burnt hide where the hot muzzle rested, him firing at what came up to the hill, forcing them to scatter for cover, while all the time there was a chill in his back from not knowing what was behind him. Once the last of the five men had reached the hilltop the chill went out of his back and he had saved the pans he had left until he would need them.
There were two more horses dead along the slope and three more were dead here on the hilltop. He had only succeeded in stealing three horses last night and one had bolted when they tried to mount him bareback in the corral at the camp when the first shooting had started.
Of the five men who had reached the hilltop three were wounded. Sordo was wounded in the calf of his leg and in two places in his left arm. He was very thirsty, his wounds had stiffened, and one of the wounds in his left arm was very painful. He also had a bad headache and as he lay waiting for the planes to come he thought of a joke in Spanish. It was, "_Hay que tomar la muerte como si fuera aspirina_," which means, "You will have to take death as an aspirin." But he did not make the joke aloud. He grinned somewhere inside the pain in his head and inside the nausea that came whenever he moved his arm and looked around at what there was left of his band.
The five men were spread out like the points of a five-pointed star. They had g with their knees and hands and made mounds in front of their heads and shoulders with the dirt and piles of stones. Using this cover, they were linking the indivial mounds up with stones and dirt. Joaqu璯, who was eighteen years old, had a steel helmet that he g with and he passed dirt in it.
He had gotten this helmet at the blowing up of the train. It had a bullet hole through it and every one had always joked at him for keeping it. But he had hammered the jagged edges of the bullet hole smooth and driven a wooden plug into it and then cut the plug off and smoothed it even with the metal inside the helmet.
When the shooting started he had clapped this helmet on his head so hard it banged his head as though he had been hit with a casserole and, in the last lung-aching, leg-dead, mouth-dry, bulletspatting, bullet-cracking, bullet-singing run up the final slope of the hill after his horse was killed, the helmet had seemed to weigh a great amount and to ring his bursting forehead with an iron band. But he had kept it. Now he g with it in a steady, almost machinelike desperation. He had not yet been hit.
"It serves for something finally," Sordo said to him in his deep, throaty voice.
"_Resistir y fortificar es vencer_," Joaqu璯 said, his mouth stiff with the dryness of fear which surpassed the normal thirst of battle. It was one of the slogans of the Communist party and it meant, "Hold out and fortify, and you will win."
Sordo looked away and down the slope at where a cavalryman was sniping from behind a boulder. He was very fond of this boy and he was in no mood for slogans.
"What did you say?"
One of the men turned from the building that he was doing. This man was lying flat on his face, reaching carefully up with his hands to put a rock in place while keeping his chin flat against the ground.
Joaqu璯 repeated the slogan in his dried-up boy's voice without checking his digging for a moment.
"What was the last word?" the man with his chin on the ground asked.
"_Vencer_," the boy said. "Win."
"_Mierda_," the man with his chin on the ground said.
"There is another that applies to here," Joaqu璯 said, bringing them out as though they were talismans, "Pasionaria says it is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees."
"_Mierda_ again," the man said and another man said, over his shoulder, "We're on our bellies, not our knees."
"Thou. Communist. Do you know your Pasionaria has a son thy age in Russia since the start of the movement?"
"It's a lie," Joaqu璯 said.
"_Qu?va_, it's a lie," the other said. "The dynamiter with the rare name told me. He was of thy party, too. Why should he lie?"
"It's a lie," Joaqu璯 said. "She would not do such a thing as keep a son hidden in Russia out of the war."
"I wish I were in Russia," another of Sordo's men said. "Will not thy Pasionaria send me now from here to Russia, Communist?"
"If thou believest so much in thy Pasionaria, get her to get us off this hill," one of the men who had a bandaged thigh said.
"The fascists will do that," the man with his chin in the dirt said.
"Do not speak thus," Joaqu璯 said to him.
"Wipe the pap of your mother's breasts off thy lips and give me a hatful of that dirt," the man with his chin on the ground said. "No one of us will see the sun go down this night."
El Sordo was thinking: It is shaped like a chancre. Or the breast of a young girl with no nipple. Or the top cone of a volcano. You have never seen a volcano, he thought. Nor will you ever see one. And this hill is like a chancre. Let the volcanos alone. It's late now for the volcanos.
He looked very carefully around the withers of the dead horse and there was a quick hammering of firing from behind a boulder well down the slope and he heard the bullets from the submachine gun thud into the horse. He crawled along behind the horse and looked out of the angle between the horse's hindquarters and the rock. There were three bodies on the slope just below him where they had fallen when the fascists had rushed the crest under cover of the automatic rifle and submachine gunfire and he and the others had broken down the attack by throwing and rolling down hand grenades. There were other bodies that he could not see on the other sides of the hill crest. There was no dead ground by which attackers could approach the summit and Sordo knew that as long as his ammunition and grenades held out and he had as many as four men they could not get him out of there unless they brought up a trench mortar. He did not know whether they had sent to La Granja for a trench mortar. Perhaps they had not, because surely, soon, the planes would come. It had been four hours since the observation plane had flown over them.
This hill is truly like a chancre, Sordo thought, and we are the very pus of it. But we killed many when they made that stupidness. How could they think that they would take us thus? They have such modern armament that they lose all their sense with overconfidence. He had killed the young officer who had led the assault with a grenade that had gone bouncing and rolling down the slope as they came up it, running, bent half over. In the yellow flash and gray roar of smoke he had seen the officer dive forward to where he lay now like a heavy, broken bundle of old clothing marking the farthest point that the assault had reached. Sordo looked at this body and then, down the hill, at the others.
They are brave but stupid people, he thought. But they have sense enough now not to attack us again until the planes come. Unless, of course, they have a mortar coming. It would be easy with a mortar. The mortar was the normal thing and he knew that they would die as soon as a mortar came up, but when he thought of the planes coming up he felt as naked on that hilltop as though all of his clothing and even his skin had been removed. There is no nakeder thing than I feel, he thought. A flayed rabbit is as well covered as a bear in comparison. But why should they bring planes? They could get us out of here with a trench mortar easily. They are proud of their planes, though, and they will probably bring them. Just as they were so proud of their automatic weapons that they made that stupidness. But undoubtedly they must have sent for a mortar too.
One of the men fired. Then jerked the bolt and fired again, quickly.
"Save thy cartridges," Sordo said.
"One of the sons of the great whore tried to reach that boulder," the man pointed.
"Did you hit him?" Sordo asked, turning his head with difficulty.
"Nay," the man said. "The fornicator cked back."
"Who is a whore of whores is Pilar," the man with his chin in the dirt said. "That whore knows we are dying here."
"She could do no good," Sordo said. The man had spoken on the side of his good ear and he had heard him without turning his head. "What could she do?"
"Take these sluts from the rear."
"_Qu?va_," Sordo said. "They are spread around a hillside. How would she come on them? There are a hundred and fifty of them. Maybe more now."
"But if we hold out until dark," Joaqu璯 said.
"And if Christmas comes on Easter," the man with his chin on the ground said.
"And if thy aunt had _cojones_ she would be thy uncle," another said to him. "Send for thy Pasionaria. She alone can help us."
"I do not believe that about the son," Joaqu璯 said. "Or if he is there he is training to be an aviator or something of that sort."
"He is hidden there for safety," the man told him.
"He is studying dialectics. Thy Pasionaria has been there. So have Lister and Modesto and others. The one with the rare name told me."
"That they should go to study and return to aid us," Joaqu璯 said.
"That they should aid us now," another man said. "That all the cruts of Russian sucking swindlers should aid us now." He fired and said, "_Me cago en tal_; I missed him again."
"Save thy cartridges and do not talk so much or thou wilt be very thirsty," Sordo said. "There is no water on this hill."
"Take this," the man said and rolling on his side he pulled a wineskin that he wore slung from his shoulder over his head and handed it to Sordo. "Wash thy mouth out, old one. Thou must have much thirst with thy wounds."
"Let all take it," Sordo said.
"Then I will have some first," the owner said and squirted a long stream into his mouth before he handed the leather bottle around.
"Sordo, when thinkest thou the planes will come?" the man with his chin in the dirt asked.
"Any time," said Sordo. "They should have come before."
"Do you think these sons of the great whore will attack again?"
"Only if the planes do not come."
He did not think there was any need to speak about the mortar. They would know it soon enough when the mortar came.
"God knows they've enough planes with what we saw yesterday."
"Too many," Sordo said.
His head hurt very much and his arm was stiffening so that the pain of moving it was almost unbearable. He looked up at the bright, high, blue early summer sky as he raised the leather wine bottle with his good arm. He was fifty-two years old and he was sure this was the last time he would see that sky.
He was not at all afraid of dying but he was angry at being trapped on this hill which was only utilizable as a place to die. If we could have gotten clear, he thought. If we could have made them come up the long valley or if we could have broken loose across the road it would have been all right. But this chancre of a hill. We must use it as well as we can and we have used it very well so far.
If he had known how many men in history have had to use a hill to die on it would not have cheered him any for, in the moment he was passing through, men are not impressed by what has happened to other men in similar circumstances any more than a widow of one day is helped by the knowledge that other loved husbands have died. Whether one has fear of it or not, one's death is difficult to accept. Sordo had accepted it but there was no sweetness in its acceptance even at fifty-two, with three wounds and him surrounded on a hill.
He joked about it to himself but he looked at the sky and at the far mountains and he swallowed the wine and he did not want it. If one must die, he thought, and clearly one must, I can die. But I hate it.
Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an earthen jar of water in the st of the threshing with the grain flailed out and the chaff blowing. Living was a horse between your legs and a carbine under one leg and a hill and a valley and a stream with trees along it and the far side of the valley and the hills beyond.

5. 求一篇短篇小说（英文的，字数500-1000词）

Many artists lived in the Greenwich Village area of New York. Two young women named Sue and Johnsy shared a studio apartment at the top of a three-story building. Johnsy's real name was Joanna. In November, a cold, unseen stranger came to visit the city. This disease, pneumonia, killed many people. Johnsy lay on her bed, hardly moving. She looked through the small window. She could see the side of the brick house next to her building. One morning, a doctor examined Johnsy and took her temperature. Then he spoke with Sue in another room. "She has one chance in -- let us say ten," he said. "And that chance is for her to want to live. Your friend has made up her mind that she is not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?" "She -- she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples in Italy some day," said Sue. "Paint?" said the doctor. "Bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice -- a man for example?" "A man?" said Sue. "Is a man worth -- but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind." "I will do all that science can do," said the doctor. "But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages at her funeral, I take away fifty percent from the curative power of medicines." After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom and cried. Then she went to Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime. Johnsy lay with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep. She began making a pen and ink drawing for a story in a magazine. Young artists must work their way to "Art" by making pictures for magazine stories. Sue heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside. Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting -- counting backward. "Twelve," she said, and a little later "eleven"; and then "ten" and "nine;" and then "eight" and "seven," almost together. Sue looked out the window. What was there to count? There was only an empty yard and the blank side of the house seven meters away. An old ivy vine, going bad at the roots, climbed half way up the wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken leaves from the plant until its branches, almost bare, hung on the bricks. "What is it, dear?" asked Sue. "Six," said Johnsy, quietly. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head hurt to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now." "Five what, dear?" asked Sue. "Leaves. On the plant. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?" "Oh, I never heard of such a thing," said Sue. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine. Don't be silly. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were -- let's see exactly what he said ¨C he said the chances were ten to one! Try to eat some soup now. And, let me go back to my drawing, so I can sell it to the magazine and buy food and wine for us." "You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another one. No, I don't want any soup. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too." "Johnsy, dear," said Sue, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by tomorrow." "Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes and lying white and still as a fallen statue. "I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves." "Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Mister Behrman up to be my model for my drawing of an old miner. Don't try to move until I come back." Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the apartment building. Behrman was a failure in art. For years, he had always been planning to paint a work of art, but had never yet begun it. He earned a little money by serving as a model to artists who could not pay for a professional model. He was a fierce, little, old man who protected the two young women in the studio apartment above him. Sue found Behrman in his room. In one area was a blank canvas that had been waiting twenty-five years for the first line of paint. Sue told him about Johnsy and how she feared that her friend would float away like a leaf. Old Behrman was angered at such an idea. "Are there people in the world with the foolishness to die because leaves drop off a vine? Why do you let that silly business come in her brain?" "She is very sick and weak," said Sue, "and the disease has left her mind full of strange ideas." "This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie sick," yelled Behrman. "Some day I will paint a masterpiece, and we shall all go away." Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to cover the window. She and Behrman went into the other room. They looked out a window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other without speaking. A cold rain was falling, mixed with snow. Behrman sat and posed as the miner. The next morning, Sue awoke after an hour's sleep. She found Johnsy with wide-open eyes staring at the covered window. "Pull up the shade; I want to see," she ordered, quietly. Sue obeyed. After the beating rain and fierce wind that blew through the night, there yet stood against the wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. It was still dark green at the center. But its edges were colored with the yellow. It hung bravely from the branch about seven meters above the ground. "It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall ring the night. I heard the wind. It will fall today and I shall die at the same time." "Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down toward the bed. "Think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?" But Johnsy did not answer. The next morning, when it was light, Johnsy demanded that the window shade be raised. The ivy leaf was still there. Johnsy lay for a long time, looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was preparing chicken soup. "I've been a bad girl," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how bad I was. It is wrong to want to die. You may bring me a little soup now." An hour later she said: "Someday I hope to paint the Bay of Naples." Later in the day, the doctor came, and Sue talked to him in the hallway. "Even chances," said the doctor. "With good care, you'll win. And now I must see another case I have in your building. Behrman, his name is -- some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man and his case is severe. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital today to ease his pain." The next day, the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now -- that's all." Later that day, Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, and put one arm around her. "I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mister Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was sick only two days. They found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were completely wet and icy cold. They could not imagine where he had been on such a terrible night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted. And they found a ladder that had been moved from its place. And art supplies and a painting board with green and yellow colors mixed on it. And look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it is Behrman's masterpiece ¨C he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."

6. 世界上最短的科幻小说，只有一句话却意味深长

说到科幻小说，人们往往会想到《三体》、《北京折叠》、《湮灭》、《银翼杀手》等作品，这些小说通常描绘宏大的世界观，讲述复杂的故事。

不过，今天我要介绍的是一部短篇科幻小说。

这部小说的特别之处在于其长度，仅一句话。

这部小说名叫《最后一个人》，由美国著名科幻小说家弗里蒂克·布朗创作，英文原文如下：

“The last man on earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door....”

这是一部堪称世界上最短的科幻小说。

全文仅17个单词，简洁明了。即使翻译成中文，也只有25个汉字：“地球上最后一个人独自坐在房间里，这时，忽然响起了敲门声......”

尽管它只有这短短的一句话，却已经具备了小说的三要素：人物、情节、环境！

人物：最后一个人；

情节：一个人坐着，听到了敲门声；

环境：地球上的一个房间。

因此，它足以被视为一部完整的小说。

科幻文学不仅以夸张的表达和广阔的想象空间吸引人，还有悬念。这部小说在这几个方面已经做得相当出色。

故事中，地球上只剩下了一个人，为什么？其他人都去了哪里？是都死了，还是移民到了其他星球？地球上究竟发生了什么？悬念重重！

既然地球上只有一个人，那么他为什么会听到敲门声？敲门的是谁？是人类、动物，还是外星人或更高级的智慧生命？

他会去开门吗？如果开了门，又会发生什么？会不会开门后地球上连最后一个人都失去了？未来会发生什么？故事的结局又如何？

每个人都会根据自己的想象力来解读这个故事，一千个读者眼中有一千个哈姆雷特，这部短篇科幻小说也是如此。

因此，《最后一个人》这部科幻小说在世界范围内引起了巨大反响，许多人将其视为经典之作。

这就是被公认为世界上著名的最短的科幻小说之一！

7. 求英文短篇小说,谢谢各位.

Black Horse 黑骏马

Jed got to the top of the mountain and sat down to rest. The July sun had made him hot.
杰德到了山顶，就坐下来休息。7月底太阳使他热汗淋淋。

It had been a long walk to the top and he was tired. He knew the horse he was trying to capture could not be too far away. He looked at the mountain and the valleys below, searching footmarks left by the horse.
他走了很长一段路才到山顶的，所以感到浑身乏力。他知道他想方设法要逮住的那匹马离此不会太远。他察看折山上及下面的山谷，寻找着那匹马留下的蹄印。

Then he saw the marks going down the other side of the mountain. He must capture the horse. He knew better men than he had tried. Tom Raglan, the best rancher in the state, had tried with the help of his cowboys.
这时，他看到在山的另一侧，顺坡而下有一行马蹄印。他一定要逮住这匹马。他知道曾有比他更有能耐的人尝试过。州内最好的牧场主汤姆·拉格伦就曾经在他那帮牛仔的帮助下做过尝试.

But they had not been able to capture it. It had gotten away from others, too. They all said it was too wild. It could not be captured.
但他们并没有能逮住它,其他试图去逮它的人也都失败了，都让它逃脱了。他们都说他太野，是不可能被逮住的。

After a slow, painful walk down the mountain, Jed came to a cool-looking river. He drank the clear water.顺着山路向下，慢慢地、艰难地走了一段之后，杰德到达一条水看上去十分清澈的河边，喝了几口河水。

Further down the valley he saw the black horse. It stood under a tree out of the sun. Jed moved closer, then hid behind a tree to watch. It was the biggest and blackest and blackest he had ever seen.
接着又沿山谷向前走了一段，这是他看到了那匹黑马，他站在一棵树下遮太阳。杰德又走进了些，然后躲在一棵树后观察。这是他有生以来见过的最大、最黑的马。

Jed knew all about horse. He had grown into a man caring for them. He had never earned more than '10 but he had dreams: If he could get a male and female house and 10 hectares of land, he could sell horses. That would be all the happiness Jed wanted.
杰德对马了如指掌。他是一个从小与马厮混、在马背上长大的人。尽管他挣的钱从来没有超过10美元，但他有自己的梦想：如果他能够得到一匹公马、一匹母马和10公顷土地，他就可以养马并以卖马为生了。那就是杰德想要得到的全部幸福了。

Night came. The big black house moved from under the tree and began to eat grass near the river. Jed watched again. A few hours later, he found a soft place in the ground. He placed his head against an old fallen tree and slept.
夜幕降临。那匹大黑马从树下走了出来，走到河边开始吃草。杰德继续观察着。几小时后，他在地上找了一块柔软的地方，将头靠在一棵倒着的老树上睡着了。

The next day he woke with the sun. His eyes searched for the horse, and there it was, grazing. Jed saw how it ate, then lifted its head and looked all around. It was the mark of the wild, always looking for hidden danger.
第二天日出时他醒了过来，马上就用目光寻找那匹马，还好，它就站在那里，正吃着草呢。杰德看着它吃草，随后又见它抬起头，朝四周看看。这就是野马的特征：它们总是十分小心，不时地看看四周是否有什么暗藏的危险。

Jed started to walk toward the horse. The horse stopped eating and looking at Jed. Jed's heart began to beat heavily. Men had said the horse was a killer. Still, he walked closer.
杰德开始慢慢向它走近。它停止吃草，看着杰德。杰德的心开始“咚咚”直跳。人们都说这马是一个杀手，但他还是继续向它靠近。

Fifteen meters away from the horse Jed stopped. The horse had lifted its front feet high in the air, then placed them heavily back on the ground. Jed moved closer. He talked to the horse in a soft voice.
在离它15米远的地方，杰德停了下来。只见它高高的抬起前蹄，然后又重重的落回原地。杰德又走近了些。他开始柔声跟它说话。

Then, with a loud scream, the horse turned and ran down the valley. Jed sank to the ground wet with excitement. He had done what no man had done.
接着，随着一声响亮的嘶鸣，这匹马转身顺着山谷跑了下去。杰德却因兴奋而浑身大汗淋漓，倒在地上。他已经做了别人没有做到的事儿.

He had almost touched the wild horse. The animal was not a killer. If it had been, Jed would be dead now.
他几乎快要挨到这匹野马了。它并不是一个杀手，如果它是的话，杰德现在已经没命了。

For six days he followed the horse. He rested when the horse rested. Jed did not like the land they were in now. The sides of the valley were high and filled with big rocks. Few trees were around. And the bottom of the valley was soft and wet.
他一连跟踪了这匹马6天。只有马歇的时候，他才歇。杰德不喜欢他现在所呆的地方。这山谷的两侧都很高，到处是大岩石，周围没有多少树，而且谷底又软又湿。

Jed watched the horse a while, and then lay down to sleep.
杰德又看了一会儿马，随后躺下来睡觉。

In the middle of the night, he was awakened by thunder and rain. He walked up the rocks until he found a dry hole, safe from the rain, and he slept again.
半夜十分，他被雷雨声惊醒。他立刻沿着岩石向上走，直到找了一个可以蔽雨的干燥的山洞，他再接着睡。

The next day was cold and wet. Heavy rains had softened the bottom of the valley. He followed the house most of the day. The wet valley was the only place it could walk now.
第二天又冷又湿。大雨已经泡软了谷底的土壤。这一天他大部分时间都在跟着马走。湿湿的山谷是现在它唯一可以行走的地方了。

The sides of the valley had gotten higher. Toward evening he saw it again. But this time there was fear in its face. He stopped and watched. The horse's nose was smelling the air. It smelled danger. It smelled danger.
越走，山谷两侧就显得越高。临近黄昏时分，他才又见到了它，但这次它的脸上出现了一种恐惧的神情。他停下来仔细观察，只见马鼻子在嗅着空气，他闻到了危险的气息。

Jed thought of wild animals, a wildcat(链接至同目录下wildcat）or bear maybe. He pulled his knife from his pants. He looked among the rocks but saw nothing.
杰德想到是不是有什么野兽，一只豹猫，也可能是一只熊。他从裤子里抽出刀，在岩石间四处看看，但什么也没有看见。

He began walking toward the horse. The wildcat could have been on either side of the valley. He walked slowly, trying to watch both sides at the same time.
他便向马走过去。豹猫可能在山谷的某一侧。他走得很慢，尽力同时看着两侧。

Slowly he came to the horse's side. Jed kept watching the rocks. If the cat was going to attack, it would do it now. He felt the excitement of danger.
慢慢地，他来到了马身边。杰德一直盯着那些岩石。豹猫如果要袭击，它现在就会跳出来的。他感到既危险又兴奋。

Suddenly the silence was broken. The black horse screamed loudly, a cry of fear. It began running down the wet valley.
突然，寂静被打破了。黑骏马大声嘶叫起来，那是一种充满恐惧的叫喊。随后，它顺着湿漉漉的山谷奔跑起来。

At the same time there was a heavy, deep noise from the rocks. Then it happened. Tons of wet earth and big rocks began moving down the sides of the mountain. The land itself was the enemy.
与此同时，岩石中传出了一种沉重的、深沉的响声。紧接着，事情就发生了。成吨成吨的湿土和大岩石开始从山坡两侧滚落下来。原来山地本身就是马的敌人。

When the air became clear, Jed looked for the horse. In front of him were tons of the fallen earth. He could not see down the valley and could not see the horse.

当空气恢复清新的时候，杰德立刻开始找马。在他面前是滚落下来的成吨的泥土，他无法看到山谷的前方，也看不到马。

He slowly climbed over the fallen rocks. On the other side was the horse, more frightened than ever. Its legs were stuck in the soft earth and it could not move. The more it struggled, the deeper it sank in the mud.

他慢慢地爬过那些落下来的岩石。马在这个石土堆的另一边，看上去比先前更加恐惧。它的腿陷入了软土里，动弹不得。 而它越挣扎，就在泥中陷的越深。

Jed walked toward the animal. Each step he took, the soft mud tried to suck him down, too. He walked on the grassy places harder than the mud.

杰德向它走过去。他每走一步都感到软泥也在将他向下吸，而且在长草的地方走比在泥里走还要艰难。

When he got to the horse, it was in the mud up to his stomach. Now it could move only its head. Jed felt wildly happy when he touched the horse. “Don't struggle and do not worry, Horse! I'll get you out!”

当他赶到马身边的时候，泥已经验到了马肚上，现在它只剩下头部还能动弹。摸到马，杰德感到欣喜若狂。“别挣扎，别担心，马儿！我会把你弄出来的！”

Suddenly he felt the horses teeth on his arm. He bit his lip to stop it from crying aloud. His free hand gently calmed the horse and slowly it let go. It pressed its nose against Jed's face. At last they were friends.

突然，他赶到马的牙齿咬住了他的手臂。他咬住嘴唇，以防自己疼得叫出声来。他用那只没被咬着的手轻抚马身，使它平静下来，慢慢地让它松开了嘴。随后，马将鼻子贴在了杰德的脸上。最后，他们成了朋友。

Now Jed could go to work. He studied the problem carefully. He had no way to lift the big horse from the mud. Certainly his rope was not strong enough.

现在杰德可以开始忙活了。他仔细研究了这个问题。他没有办法将这么大的一匹马从泥里拽出来，它的绳子显然不够结实。

He began to pull the mud away with his hands. But more mud fell into the hole he g. He ran to the rocks that had fallen down the mountain. He took off his shirt and filled it with rocks. He g again.

他开始用手将泥刨开，但这样以后，更多的泥又落进了他刚挖开的窟窿里。他就跑到那些山上落下的岩石边，脱下衬衣将岩石裹住，又挖了起来。

Only this time, he placed rocks in the holes he g. The rocks stayed still and slowly a wall began to form. He did this through the day and when night came, his hands were bloody, torn by the sharp rocks.

这一次，他将岩石放进他挖开的窟窿里，岩石稳稳地呆在里面，慢慢地形成了一面挡土石壁。他整整挖了一天。夜幕降临时，他的两手已经被尖锐的岩石划得血淋淋的。

He knew night would be a bad time for the horse. He did not want it to become frightened and struggle against the wall of rock he was building in the mud.

他知道，夜晚对马来说是很难熬的。他不想让马害怕，以至于挣扎起来踢坏他在泥里建好的石壁。

He cut some small trees, laid them on the ground next to the horse and all through the night, he spoke soft, kind words to it to calm its fears.

他砍了一些小树，将它们放在马旁边的地上。另外，整整一夜，他都跟马说一些温柔友善的话来解除它的恐惧。

The next morning, he brought grass for it to eat and began his work again. It was slow, hard work. When night came, he lay next to the horse again. He did not want it to struggle yet. The time had not come for the test.

第二天早上，他抱来些草让它吃，然后又开始忙活起来。这是一项好时而又艰苦的工作。夜幕降临时，他又在马旁边躺了下来。现在他还不想让马从泥中挣脱出来，考验的时机还没有到。

By the middle of the next day, he had enough rocks in the mud on one side of the horse. Now he began to dig near the houses front legs. His rocks began to make the mud harder. The horse was able to move a little.

到第三天中午的时候，他在马一边的泥里放进了足够的岩石。现在他开始挖马前腿附近的土了。他放的岩石使泥地坚硬了起来，马开始能动一点儿了。

And when the pressure became less, it raised one of its front legs on to the rocks. It pushed against the rocks on its side and lifted its body a little out of the mud.

而感到压力变小了的时候，马便将它的一条前腿拔了出来，翘到了岩石的上面，然后朝身边的岩石猛蹬，使它的身体从泥里稍微抬起了点儿。

Jed got his rope and tied it around the horses neck. He began to pull on the rope.

杰德拿出绳子，将它系到马的脖子上，开始拉绳。

The horse felt the pull and struggled with all its power against the mud. It raised its other front leg on the rocks and with a mighty push with its back legs and with Jed pulling on its neck, it moved forward toward hard land.

马感到了拉力，就用尽全力在泥里向外挣扎。他将另一条前腿也拔出来，搭在了岩石上，靠着后腿的巨大蹬力和杰德对它脖子施加的拉力，他向前面的硬地移动着。

Jed fell on the earth, happy but tired. He had not eaten for three days. He had slept little. Half sleep, he felt the horses nose push against his face. He jumped to his feet and when he brought grass for the horse it made friendly noises and playfully pushed him.

杰德倒在地上，高兴而又疲惫。他已经三天没吃东西了，睡的觉也不多。正有点迷迷糊糊的，他感到马的鼻子拱到了他的脸上，他赶快一跃而起。当他为马抱来草料时，马发出了友好的叫声，顽皮地拱拱他，和他戏耍。

A week later, a big black horse rode on the land owned by Tom Raglan. It stopped near the ranch house. A little man got off the horses back. Tom Raglan looked at the horse with eyes that did not believe. Finally he said: "You got him."

一周之后，有人骑了一匹大黑马来到牧场主汤姆·拉格伦的领地上。他在牧场房边停下来，一名小个子男人从马背上跳了下来。汤姆·拉格伦用吃惊的眼光看着这匹马，眼前的情景简直令他难以置信。最后，他说：“你得到了他。”

"I got him, Tom, and I brought him back as I said I would."

“我的得到了他，汤姆，而且正像我说过的那样，我把他骑回来了。”

Raglan looked at the horse. Above all, he was a horseman and there was no need for Jed to tell him how he captured it. Jed's tired face, his torn hands, dirty clothes and thin body told the story.

拉格伦看着马。他毕竟是一个马主，没有必要让杰德告诉他是怎么逮住马的。杰德疲惫的脸、划烂的手、肮脏的衣服和瘦弱的身体就已说明了一切。

“Jed,” Raglan said. “that horse will kill anyone except you. I do not want it. But I have not forgotten my promise."

“杰德，”拉格伦说，“那匹马会弄死除你之外的任何人，我不想要它。但我没忘记自己的诺言。

"I will give you some land and the old house in back of the ranch if you will keep the horse there. I pay you '30 a month, if you will let me send my female horses to the black horse."

如果你让这匹马一直呆在这儿，我就把一些土地和牧场后边的那坐老房子送给你。如果你让我把我的母马送到你的黑骏马那里去交配的话，我会每个月付给你三十美元。

"I want the black horse's blood in my horses. And you can keep every seventh horse for yourself.”

我想要我的马的身体力都有黑骏马的血统。而且，你可以留下交配后产下的小马中的七分之一。”

Jed put his arm around the black horse. The black horse was his. His dream had come true. It was too much all at once.

杰德伸出手臂，抱住大黑马。黑骏马成他的了。他的梦想已经变为现实了。突然之间，他得到的真是太多了。