短篇小说800字范文初三

① 求800字短篇小说，谁帮我写一篇

穷人的生活自有穷人的滋味，就如平凡的时间，谁想要，都可以得到，可以利用。——题记 幽幽的阵阵凉风，又一次吹进了这个破破烂烂的家，其实也不能说是破烂，只是有一点简陋简陋而已。“唉”屋子里传来了一声悲叹，一位快步入老年的40多岁的中年男子坐在昏暗的烛光下，眼睛里满是惆怅。他穿了一件洗得有些发白的旧工作服装，从工作牌上可以看出：他是第六小学的校园清洁工，编号022（下面我说的022就是指他）桌子那边有两个孩子，一男一女，蓬乱的头发，脏兮兮的脸，女孩一脸天真烂漫的笑容，望着他爸爸说：“爸爸，明天你可以给我带点作业本回来吗？”“我也要，我也要！”男孩生怕爸爸忘记了他。（其实也就是清洁工扫地时捡的那些同学不要的破作业本，这要看有没有人丢）“恩。”清洁工苦笑了一下，“吧嗒吧嗒”地抽了几口烟。他看了看自己家里唯一的“稀世珍宝”——一个表，现在已经是十点了，他们还没有吃晚饭。“琪琪，麒麒，（女儿和儿子的名字）今天晚饭 …… ”他还没有说完，儿子小麒早已一个箭步冲上灶台，女儿也开始劈柴生火。儿子去挑了一担水说：“爸爸，今天吃点莴笋好吗？”清洁工断然拒绝，“等明儿拿了工资，我还指望那快莴笋地呢，看能不能凑够学费，你们俩也不可能总是在家里待着啊，多学点知识，以后多挣点钱，不要像你妈妈那样。”说起他们的妈妈，这是一个坏人，游手好闲，贪玩好赌，去年因为嫌弃家里穷，去了城里，就了无音讯了。因为她欠了太多的债，现在只能用地来还，大部分田都用来还债了，只有一块莴笋地，上五年级的儿女也只好辍学在家，帮着料理家务，直到上个月，他们的爸爸找到了工作，情况才有所好转。 第二天，清洁工来到了第六小学，拿起扫帚，“刷刷刷”的扫起地来。但是很快他就停下了活，来到了教学楼去收拾教室门口的垃圾桶。他收拾的时候很留心，想着有没有作业本带回家给孩子们用。收拾到五年级（6）班时，（就是他儿女以前所在班级）他意外的捡到了一个作业本，还只用了一页，他拍拍上面的灰，赶紧揣在怀里。“022，022，快一点打扫。”卫生主管斜眼瞟了一下他。“这是什么？”他指着作业本问。“没——没什么，只是这些孩子不要的，我回去给孩子用。”他显得有些紧张，仓促地走开了，又开始干活。”卫生主管很不解的看着他。 下班后，他来到了财务科领工资，他盘算着今天把莴笋批发了，能够卖多少钱，孩子的学费够不够。“恩，这不就是022吗？”他猛一下回过神来，“财务科长好，卫生主管怎么也在？”“哦，我正要找你呢，”财务科长指着卫生主管说，“你的孩子都辍学了吗？孩子的前途可不能耽误啊！”“我明白您的意思，”他的脸有一点发红“我知道你要捐助我，但是我不需要，因为我还有能力。”他看了看财务科长：“快点发工资吧。”财务科长颤抖地交过钱去，漠然的说：“穷人自有穷人的滋味啊！正如这种坚强的精神。” 清洁工回到了家里，把作业本分给两份，分别给自己的儿子和女儿。他和孩子们挖了莴笋去卖，结果卖了一个好价钱，一年之后，孩子们又都重新进入了学校。 清洁工与他的儿女不知道，那是财务科长有意安排人去那里守侯的，清洁工与他的儿女不知道，他们这种自强不息的精神也感染了每一个人。

② 短篇小说作文范文800字

秋雨连绵，而我，便喜欢独自坐在书桌前，听着窗外似有若无的雨声，手捧一本《朱自清散文集》，细细品味。已记不清是多少次再读《背影》。中学时的我并不能体味其中深意。如今，我已日渐成长，书中父亲提着橘子，蹒跚的背影，已定格在我的脑海里，像一根敏感的琴弦，一经拨动，便会引发我无限的感慨。
我敬佩和羡慕那些作家或擅于写作的人，可以把对父母的情感通过笔尖，自然而然地流泻于纸上，读来总能带动读者的心灵随之跃动，让心灵深处的情感也随之点燃，继而蔓延，情到深处，禁不住泪眼模糊，就像《背影》带给我们的感动。
于是我情不自禁地想到我的父母。想着虽然生活艰辛，但他们却乐观幸福的笑容；想起我放假回家，母亲见我时孩童般的喜悦；想到他们冬日里依然在凛冽的寒风中，守着收入微薄的小摊，任冷风吹痛了脸颊的身影；想起他们日渐加深的皱纹、愈加清晰的白发……真的，想到此处，我便忍不住泪眼濛濛。
平凡的父母给了我不平凡的。我有一个很简单的愿望：早日让父母卸下沉重的担，安享晚年的幸福。我只有尽我的努力让他们过得更好，因为我知道，父母，都是无私而伟大的。

③ 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.

④ 文言文的800字短篇小说

这是我写的，发表过，字数合适，送给你。
《炒 驴》
某日午未许，余生骑蹇驴过大邑，人困而驴乏，欲觅店小憩。偶见城南有“炒肆”，人声鼎沸，遂趋之。递驴缰于小二，欲觅座。小二问曰：“驴何炒？”余生曰：“驴乃某代步，草料、清水饲之。”
既登楼，有侍者迓之曰：“鄙肆客众，须打号。”余生不得已，于打号机处取单。单载：“某号，年月日。本肆效西餐之自助，主随客便。候次，欢迎观览。”余生观夫肆堂，有“炒股司”、“炒房司”、“炒钱司”、“炒官司”、“炒名司”、“炒利司”多处。堂左，赫然有“炒人司”。其入口设一案，置“炒料”数瓯于其上。瓯有标帖，注明料性、用量及用法。案左另有签牌，书“择善而从”字样。余生踟蹰有倾，细审炒料，无非豪由、狂言、腐汝知、花交、胡搅、八脚、诡皮、生僵、粉丝、鸡精诸味。生见案头有《咨询册》，信手翻阅，方知此肆非酒肆。若干瘪三、阿飞经入口入，久也未有出者，询诸侍佣，或曰：“彼等经小肆略炒，身价遽增，已为猎头攫去，将从业诸行当，或为文化、教育、娱乐、公知，乃至官宦新星。”余生未得要领，且腹枵口焦，寻阶急下。
遽离，顿忆骞驴尚遗肆中。索诸小二，小二曰：“炒矣。”余怒，斥之曰：“驴虽蹇，乃某代步；向购诸张屠户处，且耗吾银三钱，尔竟炒而食之，将奈何！”小二亦怒：“遵客官嘱，所炒靡费水、料逾百金，赖账乎？”值纷争起，有大堂经理排解：“客官息怒。此炒非为食也。客官之驴见于城之西郊，往可得见。小二可引客官往，水、料费索之于驴可也。”
至西郊，有人众塞途，一青衣人据高阶而侃侃。小二谓余生曰：“此即先生驴。”余生细审，彼除所言驴事外，止脸、鼻、唇处尚余驴状，依稀得辨识。
附记：
余生归茅舍，为失驴而耿耿。见案头有书简，展而览之。简曰：
“篇中言梦境，闹市述真情。莫笑红尘败，聊斋述古风。”
余生大慰，抱瓮作驴饮。对蓬窗明月，和衣而卧。觉枕畔又一简，索而对月高吟：
“漫做巫山雨，轻吟岭上云。聊斋怒骂异人群，把酒看屈伸。
此处狂飙荡，痴狂几个人。文行万里觅知音，也做醉中吟。”
余生叹喟：“余道不孤矣！”遂呢喃醉语曰：
“莫笑狂生谑，人间怪未除。聊斋行寓意，仗剑跨蹇驴。”

⑤ 《侯银匠》续写作文800

1. 汪曾祺的短篇小说《侯银匠》

侯银匠店特别处是附带出租花轿。银匠店出租花轿，不知是什么道理。

侯银匠中年丧妻，身边只有一个女儿侯菊。在同年的女孩子还只知道抓子儿、踢毽子的时候，她已经把家务全撑了起来。开门扫地、掸土抹桌、烧茶煮饭、浆洗缝补。事事都做得很精到。

一家有女百家求，头几年就不断有媒人来给侯菊提亲。侯银匠千挑万选，看定了开粮行陆家的老三。侯银匠问菊子的意见。菊子说“爹作主！”侯银匠拿出一张小照片，让菊子看，菊子噗嗤一声笑了。“笑什么？”——“这个人我认得！”从菊子的神态上，银匠知道女儿是中意的。

定亲后，陆家不断派媒人来催婚。三天一催，五天一催。侯菊有点不耐烦：“总得给人家一点时间准备准备。”

侯银匠顺着女儿的意思，搜罗了点金子打了一对耳坠、一条金链子、一个戒指。侯菊说：“不是我稀罕金东西。大嫂子、二嫂子家里陪嫁的金首饰戴不完。我嫁过去，有个人来客往的，戴两件金的，也显得不过于寒碜。”侯银匠知道这也是给当爹的做脸，于是加工细做。心里有点甜，又有点苦。

爹问菊子还要什么，菊子指指花轿，说：“我要这项花轿。”

“这是顶旧花轿，你要它干什么？”

“我看了看，骨架都还是好的，我会把它变成一顶新的！”

侯菊动手改装花轿，买了大红缎子、各色丝绒，飞针走线，一天忙到晚。她又请爹打了两串小银铃，作为飘带的坠脚。轿子一动，银铃碎响。轿子完工，很多人都来看。

转过年来，春暖花开，侯菊就坐了这顶手制的花轿出门。临上轿时.菊子说了声：“爹！您多保重。”鞭炮一响，老银匠的眼泪就下来了。

花轿没有再抬回来.侯菊把轿子留下了。

大嫂、二嫂家里都有钱。侯菊有什么呢？她有这项花轿。全城的花轿，都不如侯菊的花轿鲜亮，接亲的人家都愿意租侯菊的。这样她每月都有进项。她把钱放在抽屉里，对丈夫说：“以后你要买书订杂志，要用钱，就从这抽屉里拿。”

陆家一天三顿饭都归侯菊管。陆家人多，众口难调。老大爱吃硬饭，老二爱吃烂饭，公公婆婆爱吃焖饭。侯菊竞能在一口锅里煮出三样饭。

公公婆婆都喜欢三儿媳妇。婆婆把米柜的钥匙交给了她，公公连粮行账簿都交给了她。她实际上成了陆家的当家媳妇。她才十七岁。

侯银匠有时以为女儿还在身边。他的灯盏里油快干了，就大声喊：“菊子！给我拿点油来！”及至无人应声，才一个人笑了：“老了！糊涂了！”

女儿有时提了两瓶酒回来看他，椅子还没有坐热就匆匆忙忙走了，陆家一刻也离不开她。

侯银匠不会打牌，也不会下棋，他能喝一点酒，也不多。而且喝的是慢酒。两块茶干，二两酒，就够他消磨一晚上。侯银匠忽然想起两句唐诗，那是他錾在银簪子上的。想起这两句诗，有点文不对题：姑苏城外寒山寺，夜半钟声到客船。

2. 阅读 侯银匠

我那年的高考题啊~~~怀念~~~

1.(4分)

①从父女相依为命着眼，为下文选女婿，打陪嫁首饰，在女儿出嫁后父亲的孤独这些情节提供依据。（顾按，此题答案似不甚通顺，方家宜斟酌之）

②从突出侯菊的精细能干着眼，为写侯菊改装花轿，出租花轿，成为当家媳妇等情节提供依据。

2.(4分)

①甜：因为女儿终于长大成人了；嫁了个好人家（女儿有了个好归宿）；可以为自己女儿打首饰了。苦：女儿出嫁后自己会很孤独；女儿出嫁也只能给这点首饰。

②深沉的思念，难言的孤独，自我安慰。

3.(6分)

①要花轿早有打算 ②改装花轿心灵手巧

③出租花轿善于经营，贤惠体贴

4.(6分)

①小说的主旨是表现侯银匠，侯家父女相依为命，侯菊继承了父亲的精细、勤劳等品质， 写侯菊就是表现侯银匠。

②小说的主旨是表现侯银匠，女儿出嫁是他生活中的大事，更多描写此时此刻的情景，重点突出，可以避免平铺直叙。

③小说的主旨是表现侯银匠，作者截取侯菊出嫁前后的片段，正面描写侯菊，间接烘托出侯银匠的人生况味。

④小说的主旨是表现侯银匠，作者实写侯菊，暗写侯银匠，以有形写无形，更有情趣。

⑤小说的主旨是表现侯银匠，更多描写女儿出嫁前后的情景，在人物关系中深刻表现中国传统的人情美、人性美，意味深长。

3. 续写作文800字

晚上，老头回到了家里：“我回来了。”若是平常，小麻雀会扑棱着翅膀唱着歌迎接他，而老太婆则一脸埋怨：“怎么又回来得这么晚？”可今天，只看见老太婆铁青着脸等在屋内。

“小麻雀呢？”老头不禁奇怪地问。

“就知道小麻雀，你都不问问我如何？”老太婆的脸色更加铁青了。老头连忙安慰她，于是也没再过问小麻雀的事情。

与此同时，小麻雀在树林中穿梭，最终停在一根树枝上。不远处的树枝上，是一个鸟窝，一家麻雀正在其乐融融地分享食物。“啊，这不是妹妹吗？”突然其中一只惊叫道，“你不是人收养了吗？怎么又回来了？”

小麻雀沉默不语，她没了舌头，已经说不了话了。

“他们对你不好？受欺负了？”小麻雀的父母凑上前关切地问。小麻雀仍然低头不语，泪水滚滚而出。小麻雀的妈妈看到小麻雀嘴边的鲜血，顿时满眼心疼。

“可恶！”麻雀哥哥立刻火冒三丈，“他们居然敢欺负我妹妹！他们等着！”说罢就要往田地的方向飞去。

“你也冷静一下。”父母忙劝住了他，“人那么强大，咱们怎么斗得过他们？这不是白白去送死吗？”

“可是。 。”

“不要说了，你妹妹只是受了些伤而已，还没有危及性命，只要不再和那些人住在一起，就没关系的。”麻雀爸爸说，又转向小麻雀，“你也不要回去了，就住在家里吧。”小麻雀含着泪点了点头。

麻雀爸爸为她找来了草药含在嘴里，治疗舌头的伤口。麻雀妈妈和哥哥一直在安慰和开导她。

夜深，精疲力竭的小麻雀很快睡着了。麻雀爸爸和妈妈看着她安详的睡颜，总算喘下一口气。“当初，她从树上掉下，被那个老头捡去收养的时候，我就想阻止来着。”麻雀爸爸叹气道，“人，哪儿有一个好的呢？”

“现在说这些有什么用？”麻雀妈妈瞪了他一眼，责怪地说，“咱们照顾好女儿，一家人只要还在一起就好。”

“我们真的不做点什么吗？他们把妹妹害成了这个样子！”麻雀哥哥义愤填膺，“她曾是森林中最美的歌手，现在却。 。她再也唱不了歌了。 。”

麻雀爸爸缓缓摇头。麻雀哥哥仍然气愤难平，“我。 。出去散散心。 。”他扑棱着翅膀，消失在夜空之中。

“着火啦！着火啦！”

半夜，睡梦中的老太婆突然惊醒，发现身边一片火海。干燥的茅草屋，在火堆中噼里啪啦地欢快燃烧。她挣扎着想往外跑，屋顶上着火的茅草却掉了下来，吓得她顿时愣在原地不知所措。老头忙抄起衣服向火堆盖去，却扇起了滚滚浓烟，呛得他直咳嗽。

“还好今晚小麻雀飞走了，留得一条性命。”他想。

这时，他却突然在破烂的窗户中看到小麻雀飞来的身影。“不要过来！”他大喊，随即一阵猛咳，“快飞走吧！”小麻雀却从窗户中飞进，将一块沾湿的布放在老头手里。

“谢谢你！”老头惊喜道，随即用那块布捂住口鼻，在小麻雀的引领下逃出了摇摇欲坠的茅草屋。刚逃出，他又想起了困在里面的老太婆，转身想回头去救她，小麻雀却挡在门口，发出吱吱的声音。

老头迷惑不解，但却丝毫没有动摇，“人命关天啊！我得进去救她！”他转身冲入了火海，不一会儿将已经被浓烟熏晕的老太婆背了出来。小麻雀见二人平安无事，转身腾起。“等等！小麻雀！”老头大喊，她回头，在老头头顶盘旋两圈，最终还是向森林的方向飞去。

朝阳升起，阳光洒在焦炭一般的茅草屋上。老头和老太婆缓缓起身，向那破屋走去。

“我不懂，为什么妹妹要救他们。”麻雀哥哥嘟囔着，“我那把火明明是最好的报复方式。”

“过去的事情都已经过去了，即便是烧死了他们，又能于我们有什么好处？”麻雀爸爸说，把翅膀放在了女儿的背上，“忘了这些吧，你还小，一切还都能重新开始。”

【完】

4. 求一篇侯银匠的读书笔记

侯银匠》等篇目中细腻的描写。

而沈从文上街，看的是大家聚众打架，聚众砍头。我至今记得我当时第一次读到沈从文写他看人被砍头时候的感受，非常平静，非常客观，就写，一个头掉下来，又一个头掉下来，倒是让没有亲眼目睹砍头的我，被他的描述看的全身一寒。

汪曾祺的求学之路很正统，上完私塾上中学，上完中学上西南联大念中文，他受到的文化教育很完整。因此虽然他也爱俗文学，爱风土民俗，他这个教育背景就决定了他的视角，和初中没毕业就出来闯生活的沈从文，非常不一样。

我是更偏爱汪曾祺的风格的，因为和我自己的性格爱好更相近。对沈从文，包括对很多类似的，有生命原初张力和野性的艺术家，我会被他们惊艳，但是心里终归是暗暗畏惧。

我不大喜欢失控的力量，倒是喜欢牵制的平衡；我不大欣赏大悲大喜的古典哀歌，倒是中意成熟的人情社会中的世故与牵缠；大红大绿让我心中一颤，但是桃红葱绿的参差照应倒是与我的个性更为相得。但是对于天真的人，我始终心存敬意。

敬他们在主流的文化之外，开辟出新的天地，种出新的奇花异树，开拓了新的可能性。

5. 求一篇侯银匠的读书笔记

侯银匠》等篇目中细腻的描写。而沈从文上街，看的是大家聚众打架，聚众砍头。我至今记得我当时第一次读到沈从文写他看人被砍头时候的感受，非常平静，非常客观，就写，一个头掉下来，又一个头掉下来，倒是让没有亲眼目睹砍头的我，被他的描述看的全身一寒。

汪曾祺的求学之路很正统，上完私塾上中学，上完中学上西南联大念中文，他受到的文化教育很完整。因此虽然他也爱俗文学，爱风土民俗，他这个教育背景就决定了他的视角，和初中没毕业就出来闯生活的沈从文，非常不一样。

我是更偏爱汪曾祺的风格的，因为和我自己的性格爱好更相近。对沈从文，包括对很多类似的，有生命原初张力和野性的艺术家，我会被他们惊艳，但是心里终归是暗暗畏惧。我不大喜欢失控的力量，倒是喜欢牵制的平衡；我不大欣赏大悲大喜的古典哀歌，倒是中意成熟的人情社会中的世故与牵缠；大红大绿让我心中一颤，但是桃红葱绿的参差照应倒是与我的个性更为相得。

但是对于天真的人，我始终心存敬意。敬他们在主流的文化之外，开辟出新的天地，种出新的奇花异树，开拓了新的可能性。

6. 续写作文800字

晚上，老头回到了家里：“我回来了。”

若是平常，小麻雀会扑棱着翅膀唱着歌迎接他，而老太婆则一脸埋怨：“怎么又回来得这么晚？”可今天，只看见老太婆铁青着脸等在屋内。“小麻雀呢？”老头不禁奇怪地问。

“就知道小麻雀，你都不问问我如何？”老太婆的脸色更加铁青了。老头连忙安慰她，于是也没再过问小麻雀的事情。

与此同时，小麻雀在树林中穿梭，最终停在一根树枝上。不远处的树枝上，是一个鸟窝，一家麻雀正在其乐融融地分享食物。

“啊，这不是妹妹吗？”突然其中一只惊叫道，“你不是人收养了吗？怎么又回来了？”小麻雀沉默不语，她没了舌头，已经说不了话了。“他们对你不好？受欺负了？”小麻雀的父母凑上前关切地问。

小麻雀仍然低头不语，泪水滚滚而出。小麻雀的妈妈看到小麻雀嘴边的鲜血，顿时满眼心疼。

“可恶！”麻雀哥哥立刻火冒三丈，“他们居然敢欺负我妹妹！他们等着！”说罢就要往田地的方向飞去。“你也冷静一下。”

父母忙劝住了他，“人那么强大，咱们怎么斗得过他们？这不是白白去送死吗？”“可是。 。”

“不要说了，你妹妹只是受了些伤而已，还没有危及性命，只要不再和那些人住在一起，就没关系的。”麻雀爸爸说，又转向小麻雀，“你也不要回去了，就住在家里吧。”

小麻雀含着泪点了点头。麻雀爸爸为她找来了草药含在嘴里，治疗舌头的伤口。

麻雀妈妈和哥哥一直在安慰和开导她。夜深，精疲力竭的小麻雀很快睡着了。

麻雀爸爸和妈妈看着她安详的睡颜，总算喘下一口气。“当初，她从树上掉下，被那个老头捡去收养的时候，我就想阻止来着。”

麻雀爸爸叹气道，“人，哪儿有一个好的呢？”“现在说这些有什么用？”麻雀妈妈瞪了他一眼，责怪地说，“咱们照顾好女儿，一家人只要还在一起就好。”“我们真的不做点什么吗？他们把妹妹害成了这个样子！”麻雀哥哥义愤填膺，“她曾是森林中最美的歌手，现在却。

。她再也唱不了歌了。

。”麻雀爸爸缓缓摇头。

麻雀哥哥仍然气愤难平，“我。 。

出去散散心。 。”

他扑棱着翅膀，消失在夜空之中。“着火啦！着火啦！”半夜，睡梦中的老太婆突然惊醒，发现身边一片火海。

干燥的茅草屋，在火堆中噼里啪啦地欢快燃烧。她挣扎着想往外跑，屋顶上着火的茅草却掉了下来，吓得她顿时愣在原地不知所措。

老头忙抄起衣服向火堆盖去，却扇起了滚滚浓烟，呛得他直咳嗽。“还好今晚小麻雀飞走了，留得一条性命。”

他想。这时，他却突然在破烂的窗户中看到小麻雀飞来的身影。

“不要过来！”他大喊，随即一阵猛咳，“快飞走吧！”小麻雀却从窗户中飞进，将一块沾湿的布放在老头手里。“谢谢你！”老头惊喜道，随即用那块布捂住口鼻，在小麻雀的引领下逃出了摇摇欲坠的茅草屋。

刚逃出，他又想起了困在里面的老太婆，转身想回头去救她，小麻雀却挡在门口，发出吱吱的声音。老头迷惑不解，但却丝毫没有动摇，“人命关天啊！我得进去救她！”他转身冲入了火海，不一会儿将已经被浓烟熏晕的老太婆背了出来。

小麻雀见二人平安无事，转身腾起。“等等！小麻雀！”老头大喊，她回头，在老头头顶盘旋两圈，最终还是向森林的方向飞去。

朝阳升起，阳光洒在焦炭一般的茅草屋上。老头和老太婆缓缓起身，向那破屋走去。

“我不懂，为什么妹妹要救他们。”麻雀哥哥嘟囔着，“我那把火明明是最好的报复方式。”

“过去的事情都已经过去了，即便是烧死了他们，又能于我们有什么好处？”麻雀爸爸说，把翅膀放在了女儿的背上，“忘了这些吧，你还小，一切还都能重新开始。”【完】。

⑥ 欧亨利短篇小说读后感

欧亨利短篇小说读后感800字（精选6篇）

当看完一本著作后，大家心中一定有很多感想，是时候抽出时间写写读后感了。你想好怎么写读后感了吗？以下是我为大家收集的欧亨利短篇小说读后感800字（精选6篇），仅供参考，大家一起来看看吧。

欧亨利短篇小说读后感1

欧·亨利--美国著名批判现实主义作家，世界短篇小说大师之一。他的一生富于传奇性，当过药房学徒、牧牛人、会计员、土地局办事员、新闻记者、银行出纳员。当银行出纳员时，因银行短缺了一笔现金，为避免审讯，离家流亡中美的洪都拉斯。后因回家探视病危的妻子被捕入狱，并在监狱医务室任药剂师。担任监狱医务室的药剂师后开始认真写作。1901年提前获释后，迁居纽约，专门从事写作。欧·亨利创作的短篇小说共有300多篇欧·亨利善于描写美国社会尤其是纽约百姓的生活。他的作品构思新颖，善于捕捉生活中令人啼笑皆非而富于哲理的戏剧性场景，作品情节的发展较快，在结尾时突然出现一个意料不到的结局，使读者惊愕之余，不能不承认故事合情合理，进而赞叹作者构思的巧妙。其中一些名篇如《爱的牺牲》、《警察与赞美诗》、《带家具出租的房间》、《麦琪的礼物》、《最后一片藤叶》等使他获得了世界声。

其中给我留下深刻印象的是《麦琪的礼物》：一对穷困夫妻在圣诞节来临之际，为互送礼物而煞费苦心，最后礼物拿出来却没用：一个卖掉金表为妻子买了梳子，一个剪掉长发为丈夫买了根表链。作者运用了巧合和悬念，使不复杂的情节充满变化，引人入胜。从而赞美了主人公纯洁的爱情。这个故事记得在我还是学生时就在当时还叫《读者文摘》的那本杂志上读过，虽然我那时还是花样季节但也被那浓浓的爱深深的打动，憧憬着能拥有世间最真挚的爱情。

有人曾说过，爱的真谛是给予而不是索取。杰姆和德拉真正做到了这一点，这套梳子是德拉心仪已久但又要不可机的东西，这条表链是杰姆相中多时但却不敢奢望的东西，他们为了使对方的愿望实现，舍弃了自己最珍贵的东西，这是多么高的境界啊！他们之间这种纯洁真挚的爱是值得我们深思的。世界需要爱，也需要我们奉献爱，每个心中都应有爱，不仅对自己，对他人，对是生活也应如此。瓦西夫在《情爱论》中表明过这样的观点：爱的最高境界是以对方的幸福为自己的幸福。

今天再次读到这个故事时我以为人妻为人母真是别样的心境。坐在书店捧着书，品着一杯清茶，看着丈夫抱着可爱的女儿一起读书，想到《麦琪的礼物》，在寒冷的冬日心中不由涌上股股暖流。我爱我的家人！幸福是如此简单！

欧亨利短篇小说读后感2

第一次接触到欧亨利的小说是在课本上，那篇《最后一片常春藤叶》实在令人难以忘怀。意料之外却又情理之中的温馨结局，合上书本，我的眼角湿润了，心房温暖了。此后，我便爱上了他的小说。欧亨利在他的作品中倾注了自我的一片苦心、一片真情。他的故事中有社会的弊端与不公，也有富人的阴险与狡诈，从多个侧面揭露了社会的黑暗面，鞭挞了人间的不平事。他的作品中更有普通人的辛酸与无奈、呼唤与抗争，也有小人物的善良与真诚、友谊与感情，字里行间表现出他对生活在社会最底层的普通人的同情和理解。

生活真是作弄人!读完《麦琪的礼物》我不禁发出感慨。麦琪卖掉长发，为丈夫买了一条表链;而丈夫却卖了金表，只为换来一把配得上妻子秀发的梳子。精心准备的礼物无了“用武之地”，真是傻得可爱的人儿啊!贫寒夫妻之间发生的搞笑故事，让读者既遗憾又宽慰。这就是欧亨利的魔法，难怪他的作品被称之为“带笑的眼泪”。完美的感情总让人得到安慰，哪怕生活的担子再沉，肩上也会充满力量。在生活中，不会风平浪静，我们难免会遇到坎坷，自我学会应对最重要，但同时他人的关爱和鼓励对我们战胜困境也十分重要。所以，多关怀身边人吧，用真诚的雨露，体贴的和风，宽厚的土壤，善意的阳光去培植和呵护友情、亲情和感情的花朵，使之绚烂，芬芳你的生活!

平凡的人也能伟岸。其貌不扬又臭脾气的老贝尔曼，是位失意的画家。平常生活中，他显得粗鲁又固执。然而，当邻居琼西患病奄奄一息，等待与最后一片常青藤叶一齐飘陨时，他却在一个风雨之夜，在墙壁上完成了其毕生最杰出的作品――一片永不飘落的常青藤叶。琼西获得了生的勇气，而老贝尔曼却患上伤寒去世了。结局又是那番峰回路转，带着几分伤感意味。画家老贝尔曼的形象一瞬间高大起来。小说是虚构的，但它却是真实生活的写照。我们身边就有小说中平凡但却伟岸的人在。舟曲的特大泥石流灾害中，涌现了一大批平民英雄，他们无私、英勇，让人敬仰。

欧亨利的小说就像一座耸入云端的高山，它割断了昏晓，让善与恶、美与丑鲜明比较。每每遇到让我感动或气愤的事情，我都会翻开欧亨利的小说，那强有力的文字魔法，使我不禁微笑着落下泪来。

欧亨利短篇小说读后感3

打开第一页，你便会被欧·亨利，这样一位世界三大短篇小说巨匠之一的细腻的文字所吸引，又会被他那辛辣讽刺的描写所折服。

欧·亨利将社会上那些巧取豪夺，坑蒙拐骗，利欲熏心，尔虞我诈的“上流人物”，“得意之徒”们的丑恶行径揭露无遗。通过他们的种种表现，形象逼真，不拘一格地向读者展现了“文明社会”的黑暗与滑稽本质，弱肉强食与天良丧尽的现实，并喻示在金钱万能，唯利是图的生存环境中，人性的异化和畸变。

然而在众多对丑恶人性的描写之中，也不乏许多使人肃然起敬的“小人物”，让人对荒诞，滑稽的故事漠然一笑之后，感慨万千。留给我印象最深的是《两位感恩节的绅士》这篇文章，它让我真正领略到了人性的魅力。

故事讲了两位美国绅士——其中一人根本不能称之为绅士，他只能说是一个常年受饥饿折磨的穷人。在他们之间有个奇怪的约定——每年感恩节，穷人便会坐在联邦广场喷水池对面人行道旁边东入口右面的第三条长凳上，等待着老绅士的到来。老绅士来了之后，会带这位饥肠辘辘的穷人饱餐一顿。这就是他们之间神圣的约定。对老绅士而言，一顿饭钱简直微不足道，但是，他却从其中找到了助人的乐趣。而穷人的目的也并不完全是在于那顿丰盛的饭菜，更重要的是能使一位老人如自己所愿。

这个传统延续了九年之久，第十年的感恩节，穷人照惯例走在去约会地点的路上。可出乎意料的事发生了。半路上，穷人被一幢住宅的管家请进了门，并可以享受一顿丰盛的大餐。原来住宅的主人——两位老太太，也有一个奇怪的传统——在正午把第一个饥饿的路人请进门，让他大吃大喝，饱餐一顿。但正因为穷人正在饱餐之时，他忘了和老绅士的约定。但穷人仍然去负约了，还装出很饿的样子狼吞虎咽起来。尽管穷人那时只剩下挪动身子和呼吸的力气。穷人吃饭后，老绅士付了账，两人便到了别。

故事的结局是——两人在回家的路上都晕了过去，被送进了医院。穷人是因为吃得太撑，几乎撑破了胃，而老绅士，一位在前些日子还家财万贯的富翁则是因为三天三夜没有吃东西，身体脱虚，而在路上倒了下来。

读这篇文章就好像是在嚼一只橄榄，甜味中带了一丝酸涩，让人在漠然一笑之后，思索良久。

欧亨利短篇小说读后感4

看一个人的小说，要从了解这个人开始。欧亨利一生命运坎坷，常与落魄的小人物们在一起，逃亡7年后在狱中开始了他的写作生涯，最终成为了和莫泊桑、契诃夫齐名的短篇小说巨匠。这也大概铸就了他淳朴幽默的小说风格，也让他拥有了宽广的胸怀。毫无疑问，《麦琪的礼物》和《警察与赞美诗》是欧亨利经典的代表作品。

《麦琪的礼物》描写了一对夫妇各自卖掉了自己的宝物给对方的宝物添彩，让人回味深长，它不仅告诉我们真爱无价，更凸显了命运的现实在高贵的真爱面前的冷酷。《警察与赞美诗》戏剧性的结尾让人啼笑皆非却又沉思良久。他告诉我们人终要为自己的所作所为付出代价，正可谓“不是不报，时候未到”；告诉我们当人想做一件事时，可能必须要无可奈何的放弃了。这就是人类的“悲剧”；然而真正积极乐观不会等到这悲剧的发生。

的确，欧亨利十分擅长结尾。他经常戏剧性地设计情节，埋伏笔，作铺垫，最后在结尾处让人物的心理情境发生出人意料的变化，或使主人公命运陡然逆转，使读者感到豁然开朗，柳暗花明，既在意料之外，又在情理之中，不禁拍案称奇，从而造成独特的艺术魅力。被称为“含泪的微笑”。

我想欧亨利把小说的灵魂全都凝结在结尾，让读者在前的似乎是平淡无奇的而又是诙谐风趣的娓娓动听的描述中，不知不觉地进入作者精心设置的迷宫，直到最后，忽如电光一闪，才照亮了先前隐藏着的一切，给读者一个大大的惊喜。描写小人物是欧亨利的短篇小说另一大特色，其中包含了深厚的.人道主义精神。欧亨利长期生活在社会底层，深谙下层人民的苦难生活，同时也切身感受过统治阶层制定的法律对穷人是如何无情。

因此，他把无限的同情都放在穷人一边。在他的笔下，穷人有着纯洁美好的心灵，仁慈善良的品格，真挚深沉的爱情。但是他们却命运多坎，弱小可怜，孤立无援，食不果腹，身无居所，苟延残喘，往往被社会无情地吞噬。这种不公平的现象与繁华鼎盛的社会景象相映照，显得格外刺目，其中隐含了作者对自己命运的愤愤不平。

总之，欧亨利为我们不仅留下了宝贵的文学作品，更为我们留下了“一粒沙里看世界，半瓣花上说人情”的现实主义思想。

欧亨利短篇小说读后感5

我们知道法国最杰出的短篇小说家要数莫泊桑，俄国当推契柯夫，而美国独树一帜的则是欧·亨利。

第一次知道欧·亨利，是在语文课上。老师给我们总结文章结尾方式，有什么顺其自然法，点题法云云，我已经记不大清了，其中就有一个“欧·亨利式结尾”，这个我当时最感兴趣，所以记得最清楚。

后来，老师给我了份报纸，在那份报纸上，我第一次完整地阅读了一篇欧？亨利的短篇小说，那篇小说《二十年后》引起了我极大的兴趣，使我对欧·亨利的作品有了初步的了解。

这次寒假，我有了充裕的时间，真正的接触了欧·亨利的作品。

翻开小说集的第一篇，我就被深深地吸引了，欧·亨利独特的作品风格，吸引着我一口气把这本书读完。

我不得不赞叹欧·亨利的写作技艺，这也是为什么他的作品有如此之大的魅力的原因，他的文章结构严谨，而且读到小说的最后时让人大吃一惊，豁然开朗，完全出乎你的意料，每一篇小说都是如此。其中我记忆最深刻的一篇是《圣罗萨里奥的两位朋友》，这里内容我就不再复述，有兴趣的同学可以自己去看。当我在读这篇小说时，产生了很多疑问和不明白的地方“他为什么要这么做？”“他为什么要这么说？”“这是为什么？”，有时会感到不知所云，但到了小说的结尾作者以一封书信的方式揭晓谜底时，所有的疑问都被解开了，而且故事情节显得很通顺，很合理。

欧·亨利的作品还很大的程度上受到了自身经历的影响，把自身经历融合进小说，是小说本身更富有感染力，例如他很有名的一篇《警察与赞美诗》中讲了一个人想尽办法想去做牢都没有成功，但当他后来翻然悔悟，洗心革面，打算从新做人时，警察却将它带走了。实际上欧·亨利自己就坐过牢，他就是在监狱中开始了他的写作生涯。在其他很多小说中，也能看出欧？亨利的影子，好几篇小说都提了“第一国民银行”，而欧·亨利早年恰好在第一国民银行当过出纳员。

我认为，欧·亨利的作品在一定程度上还折射出了当时的社会背景和人们的生活状况。虽然欧·亨利的个人生活糜烂腐败，但他的作品永远有着不朽的价值。

欧亨利短篇小说读后感6

欧·亨利是美国著名的短篇小说家，与他齐名的还有莫泊桑和契柯夫。他们三人被合称为世界三大著名小说家。这个学期阅读课上我有幸读到了他的著作，这使我受益匪浅。

我们小组编演了《圣贤的礼物》此剧本，由此深刻地了解了全文内容。《圣贤的礼物》主要讲的是这样一个故事：女主人公德拉想给丈夫吉姆一个惊喜，可她只有一元八角七，于是她卖掉了自己引以为豪的长发，换来了20美元。最终花去21美元，为吉姆买到一条白金表链。而吉姆也想给德拉一个惊喜，他卖掉了祖传的金表，买了德拉渴望已久的全套发梳。虽然表面上看他们是为了对方而牺牲了他们各自最宝贵的东西，但我认为，他们牺牲自己最贵重的物品，给对方买来最好的礼物，这种付出是无私的，是宝贵的。这就是奉献的伟大，只有当我们无私奉献时，这个世界才会少一些无情，少一点刻薄，少一分势利。虽然故事的结局有些可笑，但他们的付出是值得的：他教会了我们如何去关爱别人。因为爱，人与人之间才会有理解，人与人之间才会有温暖，人与人之间才会有信任。只要我们心中时时刻刻都充盈着爱，那么我们的世界将会有更加美好的明天。

《最后一片叶》也是一篇典型的温暖人心的文章：苏艾和琼珊都十分热爱艺术，可琼珊却得了肺炎。她常数窗外的常春藤叶，认为最后一片叶落下来时，她就会死去。于是苏艾请来了老画家贝尔曼，当他听到这个消息，就在墙上画了一片叶，一片永远不会凋零的叶，就是这片叶给了苏珊信心和勇气，最终活了下来。但是帮助她的贝尔曼却因为感染肺炎而死亡。我认为贝尔曼的死没有遗憾，因为他临死前完成了自己最后的遗愿——那片永不凋落的叶。虽然作者对贝尔曼的描写并不多，甚至连最感人的贝尔曼画叶子的镜头都没写，但我们能感受到贝尔曼舍己为人的高贵精神。我可以想象到，在那个风雨交加的夜晚，老人是怎样调和黄色和绿色，在二十英尺的地方为琼珊创作希望，最终却献出了宝贵的生命。在这种情景之下，我们可以感受到老人的伟大与崇高，读来令人心中波涛汹涌。贝尔曼老人在舍己为人中去世了，他的精神值得我们肯定，这片叶像一面镜子，映照出贝尔曼老人善良的心灵，折射出伟大的的舍己为人耀眼光辉。

这两个故事告诉我们一个显而易见的道理：大自然因生机而蓬勃，人类因互助而温暖。

《欧亨利短篇小说集》写的只是一个个小故事，没有惊天动地的情节，也没有过多的华丽词藻，但它却令人觉得意犹未尽，以深奥的思想内涵震撼并教育了人们。

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⑦ 800字短篇小说

落水狗
河水泛滥的时候无声无息，河边玩耍的小男孩来不及叫一声，整个人就已经浸在河里了。

小二家的狗从河边走过，正奇怪着今天的水怎么那么满的时候，便看见了在水里挣扎的小男孩。

小二家的狗不及细想，就跳下水去咬住了小男孩的衣服，一点点地往岸上爬。等到立于淤滩里的时候，小二家的狗已累得气竭。狗儿想这救人的活还真累。

小男孩昏迷着。

小二家的狗想既然救了人了，索性就救到底吧。就用湿漉漉的爪子去压迫小男孩的胸腹，想让小男孩吐了肚中的积水。

那时候太阳正当午，照着天地，光亮亮的。在田里干活的人都收了工，往家里走。小男孩的父亲远远地就看见了一只狗儿趴在他唯一的儿子的身上。小男孩的父亲急匆匆地冲过去，用锄子砸狗。小二家的狗伤心地叫着，但没有躲避。小二家的狗可以跑的，可是小二家的狗没有跑。小二家的狗还是压着小男孩。压。再压。小男孩的父亲的锄子也没有停，砸，再砸。在最后的一次重击落到狗儿的头上之后，狗儿哀鸣了一声，瘫在了男孩的身上。

小男孩吐了水，悠悠地醒转了过来。

父亲一把推开狗，痛心地抱起了儿子。小男孩有气无力地说：刚才，河水突然涨了，我在捉泥鳅，就，就给淹了。

难道……小男孩的父亲望着血泊中的狗想，难道是这狗救了我家小儿吗？

小男孩说：我不知道。我那时什么都不知道了。

围了过来的人群里有人说：这是小二家的狗啊。有人说小二家的平日里很乖顺的。有人说小二家的狗以前也是救过人的。有人说小二这回不知该怎样伤心了。说完了大家都走了。小男孩的父亲也抱着小男孩走了，回了自个的家。

小二听说的时候赶到河边，河边没有人。人们已经走光了。狗已经死了。狗尸血肉模糊地仆在淤泥里。

小二放声大哭。太阳给吵得缩回了云里。天在那时也就阴了下来。