英文原創超短篇小說

Ⅰ 英文短篇小說 原創

Three Passions I have Lived For
Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.
I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy—ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of my life for a few hours for this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness—that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what—at last—I have found.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine…A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.
Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a hated burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.
This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.

吾之三願

貝特蘭·羅素

吾生三願，純朴卻激越：一曰渴望愛情，二曰求索知識，三曰悲憫吾類之無盡苦難。此三願，如疾風，迫吾無助飄零於苦水深海之上，直達絕望之彼岸。
吾求愛，蓋因其賜吾狂喜——狂喜之劇足令吾舍此生而享其片刻；吾求愛，亦因其可驅寂寞之感，吾人每生寂寞之情輒兢兢俯視天地之緣，而見絕望之無底深淵；吾求愛還因若得愛，即可窺視聖哲詩人所見之神秘天國。此吾生之所求，雖慮其之至美而恐終不為凡人所得，亦可謂吾之所得也。
吾求知亦懷斯激情。吾願聞人之所思，亦願知星之何以閃光……吾僅得此而已，無他。
愛與知並力，幾攜吾入天國之門，然終為悲憫之心拖拽未果。痛苦之吟常縈繞吾心：受飢餓之嬰，遭壓迫之民，為兒女遺棄之無助老叟，加之天下之孤寂、貧窮、苦痛，具令吾類之生難以卒睹。吾願窮畢生之力釋之，然終不能遂願，因亦悲極。
吾生若此而已，然吾頗感未枉此生；若得天允，當樂而重為之。

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Ⅱ 推薦一些英文短篇小說

相信你會喜歡這篇短小的小說的。

Appointment With Love －－By Sulamith Ish-Kishor

Six minutes to six, said the great round clock over the information booth in Grand Central Station. The tall young Army lieutenant who had just come from the direction of the tracks lifted his sunburned face, and his eyes narrowed to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him because he could not control it. In six minutes, he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 13 months, the woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and sustained him unfailingly.
He placed himself as close as he could to the information booth, just beyond the ring of people besieging the clerks...
Lieutenant Blandford remembered one night in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of Zeros. He had seen the grinning face of one of the enemy pilots.
In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before this battle, he had received her answer: "Of course you fear...all brave men do. Didn't King David know fear? That's why he wrote the 23rd Psalm. Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you: 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.'" And he had remembered; he had heard her imagined voice, and it had renewed his strength and skill.
Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to six. His face grew sharp.
Under the immense, starred roof, people were walking fast, like threads of color being woven into a gray web. A girl passed close to him, and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing a red flower in her suit lapel, but it was a crimson sweet pea, not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, this girl was too young, about 18, whereas Hollis Meynell had frankly told him she was 30. "Well, what of it?" he had answered. "I'm 32." He was 29.
His mind went back to that book - the book the Lord Himself must have put into his hands out of the hundreds of Army library books sent to the Florida training camp. Of Human Bondage, it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman's writing. He had always hated that writing-in habit, but these remarks were different. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man's heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the bookplate: Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He had written, she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing.
For 13 months, she had faithfully replied, and more than replied. When his letters did not arrive she wrote anyway, and now he believed he loved her, and she loved him.
But she had refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. That seemed rather bad, of course. But she had explained: "If your feeling for me has any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'd always be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I'm plain (and you must admit that this is more likely). Then I'd always fear that you were going on writing to me only because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go on after that - whichever we choose..."
One minute to six - Lieutenant Blandford's heart leaped higher than his plane had ever done.
A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears. Her eyes were blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive.
He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.
"Going my way, soldier?" she murmured.
Uncontrollably, he made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump; her thick-ankled feet were thrust into low-heeled shoes. But she wore a red rose in the rumpled lapel of her brown coat.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.
Blandford felt as though he were being split in two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own; and there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; he could see that now. Her gray eyes had a warm, kindly twinkle.
Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the small worn, blue leather of Of Human Bondage, which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even rarer than love - a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful.
He squared his broad shoulders, saluted and held the book out toward the woman, although even while he spoke he felt shocked by the bitterness of his disappointment.
"I'm Lieutenant John Blandford, and you - you are Miss Meynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May...may I take you to dinner?"
The woman's face broadened in a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young lady in the green suit - the one who just went by - begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she's waiting for you in that big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of a test. I've got two boys with Uncle Sam myself, so I didn't mind to oblige you."

Ⅲ 求1000字以內英語短篇小說！

《蒙娜麗莎》風波

On Tuesday August 11th, 1911, a young artist, Louis Beraud, arrived at the Louvre（盧浮宮） in Paris to complete a painting of the Salon Carre（卡雷沙龍，盧浮宮的畫廊名）. This was the room where the world 's most famous painting, the Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci（列奧那多·達·芬奇）, was on display. To his surprise there was an empty space where the painting should have been. At 11 o'clock the museum authorities realized that the painting had been stolen. The next day headlines all over the world announced the theft.

這一天是1911年8月11日，星期二，一位年輕的藝術家路易斯·貝勞德來到了巴黎盧浮宮的卡雷沙龍畫廊完成一幅油畫，在這條畫廊里陳列著世界上最著名的油畫——列奧納多·達·芬奇創作的《蒙娜麗莎》。令路易斯感到吃驚的是，本該掛著油畫的地方卻是空空盪盪的。中午11時博物館館方意識到這幅名畫已經被盜了。第二天全球各大報刊的頭條新聞都報道了《蒙娜麗莎》被盜的消息。

Actually the Leonardo had been gone for more than twenty-four hours before anyone noticed it was missing. The museum was always closed on Mondays for maintenance（維修）. Just before closing time on Sunday three men had entered the museum, where they had hidden themselves in a storeroom. The actual theft was quick and simple. Early the next morning Perrugia removed the painting from the wall while the others kept watch. Then they went out a back exit.

實際上，直到達·芬奇的這幅畫被盜24小時後才有人發現此事。每逢星期一盧浮宮都要閉館例行保養文物。就在星期天，有三個人進入了博物館並藏在貯藏室里。他們的盜竊行動迅速而簡單，第二天一大早，三個盜賊之一佩魯吉亞從牆上取下《蒙娜麗莎》，其餘兩個為他望風，然後他們從後門溜走逃得無影無蹤了。

Nothing was seen or heard of the painting for two years when Perrugia tried to sell it to a dealer for half a million lire（里拉）. Perrugia was arrested on December 13th. Perrugia claimed he had stolen it as an act of patriotism（愛國主義）, because, he said, the painting had been looted from the Italian nation by Napoleon（拿破崙）. Perrugia was imprisoned for seven months. It seemed that the crime of the century had been solved.

《蒙娜麗莎》在被盜後的兩年間一直杳無音迅，直到有一天佩魯吉亞想以50萬里拉賣給一個文物販子時，人們才重新見到它。佩魯吉亞於1913年12月13日被捕，他宣稱偷《蒙娜麗莎》之舉完全是出於愛國心。他說，盧浮宮的這幅畫是被拿破崙從義大利搶劫來的。佩魯吉亞為此被判了7個月的監禁，看來這個世紀奇案好像是解決了。

But had it? Perrugia was keen to claim all responsibility for the theft, and it was twenty years before the whole story came out. In fact Perrugia had been working for two master criminals, Valfierno and Chaudron, who went unpunished for their crime. They would offer to steal a famous painting from a gallery for a crooked（不誠實的） dealer or an unscrupulous（肆無忌憚的） private collector. They would then make a of the picture and, with the help of bribed gallery attendants（服務員）, would then tape the to the back of the original（原始的） painting. The dealer would then be taken to the gallery and would be invited to make a secret mark on the back of the painting. Of course the dealer would actually be marking the . Valfierno would later proce forged（偽造） newspaper cuttings announcing the theft of the original, and then proce the , complete with secret marking. If the dealer were to see the painting still in the gallery, he would be persuaded that it was a , and that he possessed the genuine（真正的） one.

果真如此嗎?佩魯吉亞試圖把這次盜竊案的全部責任都攬到自己身上。直到二十年後，整個事件的真相才大白於天下。事實上，佩魯吉亞一直在為兩個犯罪頭目瓦爾菲爾諾和肖德龍工作。在這個案件中，另兩個傢伙一直逍遙法外。瓦爾菲爾諾和肖德龍經常從陳列館偷竊名畫提供給奸詐的商人或肆無忌憚的私人收藏家。他們先製作名畫的贗品，然後向博物館的工作人員行賄，以便在博物館工作人員的協助下將偽造品粘在原作的背後，爾後他們再將文物販子帶到陳列室，並要他在要買的那幅畫的背面做上秘密的記號。當然，事實上文物販子只是在贗品的背面作記號。在此之後，瓦爾菲爾諾就偽造一些剪報宣稱原作被盜，然後拿出帶有秘密記號的贗品。如果買畫的販子看見畫仍然在展出，偷盜者將說服他相信展出的畫是贗品，而賣給他的才是真正的原作。

Chaudron then painted not one, but six copies of the Mona Lisa, using 400-year-old wood panels from antique Italian furniture. The forgeries（贗品） were carefully aged, so that the varnish（光澤） was cracked and dirty. Valfierno commissioned Perrugia to steal the original, and told him to hide it until Valfierno contacted him. Perrugia waited in vain in a tiny room in Paris with the painting, but heard nothing from his partners in crime. They had gone to New York, where the six copies were already in store. They had sent them there before the original was stolen. At that time it was quite common for artists to old masters, which would be sold quite honestly（合法的） as imitations（仿造品）, so there had been no problems with US Customs. Valfierno went on to sell all six copies for '300,OOO each. Valfierno told the story to a journalist in 1914, on condition that it would not be published until his death.

肖德龍不僅偽造了一幅，而是六幅《蒙娜麗莎》。他用400年前古義大利老傢具做油畫板，所有贗品均經過了細心的老化處理，以使油畫表面產生裂縫顯得不幹凈。瓦爾菲爾諾指派佩魯吉亞盜走《蒙娜麗莎》的真品並叫他躲藏起來直到與他取得聯系。佩魯吉亞一直帶者那幅畫首在巴黎的一間小屋裡，可是他卻一直未見同夥們的蹤跡。原來瓦爾菲爾諾和肖德龍早已跑到了紐約，那裡儲存著六幅《蒙娜麗莎》的贗品。他們在原作被盜前就已將贗品運到了美國。在那個時代，藝術家們復制已故大師的作品是司空見慣的事情，而且復製品還能夠合法地在市場上進行交易，因此復製品可以毫不費力地通過美國海關。在美國瓦爾菲爾諾以每幅300，000美元的價格陸續將這六幅《蒙娜麗莎》贗品出售。1914年瓦爾菲爾諾將事件真相透露給了一位記者，條件是只有等到他死後才能將此事公之於眾。

Does the story end there? Collectors have claimed that Perrugia returned a . It is also possible that Leonardo may have painted several versions of the Mona Lisa, or they might be copies made by Leonardo's pupils. There has been a lot of controversy and argument about a 450-year-old painting, but after all, maybe that's what she's smiling about.

事情就此了解了嗎?收藏專家們宣稱佩魯吉亞還回的《蒙娜麗莎》或許是贗品。或許當初達·芬奇創作了幾個不同版本的《蒙娜麗莎》；或許這些《蒙娜麗莎》皆為達·芬奇的學生們製作的復製品。因此迄今為止人們對於這幅有著450年左右歷史的名畫，仍有著諸多的爭議。也許，這就是蒙娜麗莎微笑的原因吧！

Ⅳ 求英文短篇小說,謝謝各位.

Black Horse 黑駿馬

Jed got to the top of the mountain and sat down to rest. The July sun had made him hot.
傑德到了山頂，就坐下來休息。7月底太陽使他熱汗淋淋。

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.
他走了很長一段路才到山頂的，所以感到渾身乏力。他知道他想方設法要逮住的那匹馬離此不會太遠。他察看折山上及下面的山谷，尋找著那匹馬留下的蹄印。

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.
這時，他看到在山的另一側，順坡而下有一行馬蹄印。他一定要逮住這匹馬。他知道曾有比他更有能耐的人嘗試過。州內最好的牧場主湯姆·拉格倫就曾經在他那幫牛仔的幫助下做過嘗試.

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.
但他們並沒有能逮住它,其他試圖去逮它的人也都失敗了，都讓它逃脫了。他們都說他太野，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.順著山路向下，慢慢地、艱難地走了一段之後，傑德到達一條水看上去十分清澈的河邊，喝了幾口河水。

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.
接著又沿山谷向前走了一段，這是他看到了那匹黑馬，他站在一棵樹下遮太陽。傑德又走進了些，然後躲在一棵樹後觀察。這是他有生以來見過的最大、最黑的馬。

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.
傑德對馬了如指掌。他是一個從小與馬廝混、在馬背上長大的人。盡管他掙的錢從來沒有超過10美元，但他有自己的夢想：如果他能夠得到一匹公馬、一匹母馬和10公頃土地，他就可以養馬並以賣馬為生了。那就是傑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.
夜幕降臨。那匹大黑馬從樹下走了出來，走到河邊開始吃草。傑德繼續觀察著。幾小時後，他在地上找了一塊柔軟的地方，將頭靠在一棵倒著的老樹上睡著了。

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.
第二天日出時他醒了過來，馬上就用目光尋找那匹馬，還好，它就站在那裡，正吃著草呢。傑德看著它吃草，隨後又見它抬起頭，朝四周看看。這就是野馬的特徵：它們總是十分小心，不時地看看四周是否有什麼暗藏的危險。

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.
傑德開始慢慢向它走近。它停止吃草，看著傑德。傑德的心開始「咚咚」直跳。人們都說這馬是一個殺手，但他還是繼續向它靠近。

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.
在離它15米遠的地方，傑德停了下來。只見它高高的抬起前蹄，然後又重重的落回原地。傑德又走近了些。他開始柔聲跟它說話。

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.
接著，隨著一聲響亮的嘶鳴，這匹馬轉身順著山谷跑了下去。傑德卻因興奮而渾身大汗淋漓，倒在地上。他已經做了別人沒有做到的事兒.

He had almost touched the wild horse. The animal was not a killer. If it had been, Jed would be dead now.
他幾乎快要挨到這匹野馬了。它並不是一個殺手，如果它是的話，傑德現在已經沒命了。

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.
他一連跟蹤了這匹馬6天。只有馬歇的時候，他才歇。傑德不喜歡他現在所呆的地方。這山谷的兩側都很高，到處是大岩石，周圍沒有多少樹，而且谷底又軟又濕。

Jed watched the horse a while, and then lay down to sleep.
傑德又看了一會兒馬，隨後躺下來睡覺。

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，他被雷雨聲驚醒。他立刻沿著岩石向上走，直到找了一個可以蔽雨的乾燥的山洞，他再接著睡。

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.
第二天又冷又濕。大雨已經泡軟了谷底的土壤。這一天他大部分時間都在跟著馬走。濕濕的山谷是現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，山谷兩側就顯得越高。臨近黃昏時分，他才又見到了它，但這次它的臉上出現了一種恐懼的神情。他停下來仔細觀察，只見馬鼻子在嗅著空氣，他聞到了危險的氣息。

Jed thought of wild animals, a wildcat(鏈接至同目錄下wildcat）or bear maybe. He pulled his knife from his pants. He looked among the rocks but saw nothing.
傑德想到是不是有什麼野獸，一隻豹貓，也可能是一隻熊。他從褲子里抽出刀，在岩石間四處看看，但什麼也沒有看見。

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.
他便向馬走過去。豹貓可能在山谷的某一側。他走得很慢，盡力同時看著兩側。

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，他來到了馬身邊。傑德一直盯著那些岩石。豹貓如果要襲擊，它現在就會跳出來的。他感到既危險又興奮。

Suddenly the silence was broken. The black horse screamed loudly, a cry of fear. It began running down the wet valley.
突然，寂靜被打破了。黑駿馬大聲嘶叫起來，那是一種充滿恐懼的叫喊。隨後，它順著濕漉漉的山谷奔跑起來。

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.
與此同時，岩石中傳出了一種沉重的、深沉的響聲。緊接著，事情就發生了。成噸成噸的濕土和大岩石開始從山坡兩側滾落下來。原來山地本身就是馬的敵人。

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.

當空氣恢復清新的時候，傑德立刻開始找馬。在他面前是滾落下來的成噸的泥土，他無法看到山谷的前方，也看不到馬。

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.

他慢慢地爬過那些落下來的岩石。馬在這個石土堆的另一邊，看上去比先前更加恐懼。它的腿陷入了軟土裡，動彈不得。 而它越掙扎，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.

傑德向它走過去。他每走一步都感到軟泥也在將他向下吸，而且在長草的地方走比在泥里走還要艱難。

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!」

當他趕到馬身邊的時候，泥已經驗到了馬肚上，現在它只剩下頭部還能動彈。摸到馬，傑德感到欣喜若狂。「別掙扎，別擔心，馬兒！我會把你弄出來的！」

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，他趕到馬的牙齒咬住了他的手臂。他咬住嘴唇，以防自己疼得叫出聲來。他用那隻沒被咬著的手輕撫馬身，使它平靜下來，慢慢地讓它松開了嘴。隨後，馬將鼻子貼在了傑德的臉上。最後，他們成了朋友。

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.

現在傑德可以開始忙活了。他仔細研究了這個問題。他沒有辦法將這么大的一匹馬從泥里拽出來，它的繩子顯然不夠結實。

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.

他開始用手將泥刨開，但這樣以後，更多的泥又落進了他剛挖開的窟窿里。他就跑到那些山上落下的岩石邊，脫下襯衣將岩石裹住，又挖了起來。

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.

這一次，他將岩石放進他挖開的窟窿里，岩石穩穩地呆在裡面，慢慢地形成了一面擋土石壁。他整整挖了一天。夜幕降臨時，他的兩手已經被尖銳的岩石劃得血淋淋的。

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，夜晚對馬來說是很難熬的。他不想讓馬害怕，以至於掙紮起來踢壞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.

他砍了一些小樹，將它們放在馬旁邊的地上。另外，整整一夜，他都跟馬說一些溫柔友善的話來解除它的恐懼。

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，他抱來些草讓它吃，然後又開始忙活起來。這是一項好時而又艱苦的工作。夜幕降臨時，他又在馬旁邊躺了下來。現在他還不想讓馬從泥中掙脫出來，考驗的時機還沒有到。

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.

到第三天中午的時候，他在馬一邊的泥里放進了足夠的岩石。現在他開始挖馬前腿附近的土了。他放的岩石使泥地堅硬了起來，馬開始能動一點兒了。

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.

而感到壓力變小了的時候，馬便將它的一條前腿拔了出來，翹到了岩石的上面，然後朝身邊的岩石猛蹬，使它的身體從泥里稍微抬起了點兒。

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

傑德拿出繩子，將它繫到馬的脖子上，開始拉繩。

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.

馬感到了拉力，就用盡全力在泥里向外掙扎。他將另一條前腿也拔出來，搭在了岩石上，靠著後腿的巨大蹬力和傑德對它脖子施加的拉力，他向前面的硬地移動著。

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.

傑德倒在地上，高興而又疲憊。他已經三天沒吃東西了，睡的覺也不多。正有點迷迷糊糊的，他感到馬的鼻子拱到了他的臉上，他趕快一躍而起。當他為馬抱來草料時，馬發出了友好的叫聲，頑皮地拱拱他，和他戲耍。

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."

一周之後，有人騎了一匹大黑馬來到牧場主湯姆·拉格倫的領地上。他在牧場房邊停下來，一名小個子男人從馬背上跳了下來。湯姆·拉格倫用吃驚的眼光看著這匹馬，眼前的情景簡直令他難以置信。最後，他說：「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，湯姆，而且正像我說過的那樣，我把他騎回來了。」

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.

拉格倫看著馬。他畢竟是一個馬主，沒有必要讓傑德告訴他是怎麼逮住馬的。傑德疲憊的臉、劃爛的手、骯臟的衣服和瘦弱的身體就已說明了一切。

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

「傑德，」拉格倫說，「那匹馬會弄死除你之外的任何人，我不想要它。但我沒忘記自己的諾言。

"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."

如果你讓這匹馬一直呆在這兒，我就把一些土地和牧場後邊的那坐老房子送給你。如果你讓我把我的母馬送到你的黑駿馬那裡去交配的話，我會每個月付給你三十美元。

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

我想要我的馬的身體力都有黑駿馬的血統。而且，你可以留下交配後產下的小馬中的七分之一。」

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.

傑德伸出手臂，抱住大黑馬。黑駿馬成他的了。他的夢想已經變為現實了。突然之間，他得到的真是太多了。

Ⅳ 介紹幾部經典英文短篇小說

（少年維特的煩惱)，我正在看，可能不算短篇吧。但是它的英文我覺得還比較容易好理解。

Ⅵ 求推薦幾篇未被翻譯過的英語短篇小說6000到8000內的。

《欣然同意》（Agreeable）是美國作家喬納森·弗蘭岑的一篇短篇小說。喬納森·弗蘭岑是近兩年在美國文壇受人矚目的一個作家，早在1988年他就獲得「懷丁作家獎」，在2010年他的寫作到達一種頂峰狀態，登上《時代》周刊的封面，被譽為「偉大的美國作家」。在翻譯《欣然同意》的過程中，譯者最大的感受是小說翻譯作為文學翻譯的一種，有其獨特的特點，同時譯者在英譯漢這個跨文化交流的活動中面對文學翻譯的語言、藝術審美及其具有的社會文化功能方面的基本問題，在翻譯過程中不僅要做到譯意，還要譯「情」、譯「味」、譯「韻」。①將美學理念與審美思維有機結合起來，並將之運用到文學翻譯實踐當中去，從而最大限度地使譯入語文本接近源語文本，極力提高兩者的相似性，是文學翻譯者所應追求的目標之一。筆者將從短篇小說翻策略的角度入手，闡述英文小說翻譯的一些技巧。

Ⅶ 急需一個英文短篇小說 500〜800字！求快！要原創型的！

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.

Ⅷ 經典短篇英文小說

經典短篇小說好多呢！用詞比較簡單，但意義深刻！更重要的是每一篇都短小精悍！（符合你的要求哦）
1.《生火》傑克.倫敦 To Build a Fire (Jack LondonP
2.《厄謝爾府的倒塌》 愛倫.坡
The Fall of the House of Usher (Edgar Allan Poe)
3.《項鏈》莫泊桑 The Necklace (Guy de Maupassant)
4.《警察與贊美詩》歐.亨利 The Cop and the Anthem
(O Henry)
5.《麥琪的禮物》歐.亨利 Magi's gift (O Henry)
6.《最後一片藤葉》歐.亨利 The Last Leaf (O Henry)
7.《加利維拉縣有名的跳蛙》馬克.吐溫 The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County
（Mark Twain)
8.《人生的五種恩賜》馬克.吐溫
The Five Boons of Life （Mark Twain)
9.《三生客》 托馬斯.哈代 The Three Strangers
(Thomas Hardy)
10.《敞開的落地窗》薩基 The Open Window (Saki)
11.《末代佳人》菲茨傑拉德 The Last of the Belles
(F.S.Fitzgerald)
12.《手》舍伍德.安德森 Hands
13.《伊芙琳》詹姆斯.喬伊斯 Eveline
14.《教長的黑色面紗》納撒尼爾.霍桑

Ⅸ 有什麼英語短篇小說推薦

1. 「A Good Man is Hard to Find,」 Flannery O』Connor

Few short stories have stuck with us as much as this one, which is probably O'Connor's most famous work — and with good reason. The Misfit is one of the most alarming serial killers we've ever met, all the more so for his politeness, and the story』s moral is so striking and terrifying that — whether you subscribe to the religious undertones or not — a reader is likely to finish and begin to reexamine their entire existence. Or at least we did, the first time we read it.
《好人難尋》這篇小說是奧康納最為著名的作品，很少有其他短篇小說能像這篇一樣給我們帶來震撼。無論你是否能明了宗教般的潛在含義，看完這篇小說讀者都會開始或是結束對存在的檢視。

2. 「The School,」 Donald Barthelme

This story is very short, but pretty much perfect in every way. Though Barthelme is known for his playful, post modern style, we admire him for his ability to shape a world so clearly from so few words, chosen expertly. Barthelme never over explains, never uses one syllable too many, but effortlessly leads the reader right where he wants her to be. It's funny, it's absurdist, it's sad, it's enormous even in its smallness. It may be this writer』s favorite story of all time. You should read it.
這篇小說很短，但是堪稱完美。巴塞爾姆的優秀就在於他能用精選的極少幾個文字就為我們敘述了一個世界。他很少過多地解釋，就把讀者帶到了他想要你去地方。

3. 「In The Penal Colony,」 Franz Kafka

Kafka called this one his「dirty story,」and thought it imperfect, but it's one of our favorites of his (though we also recommend 「The Hunger Artist」and「A Country Doctor」). It's so obviously a story about writing, in some ultimate way — a machine punishes its victims by writing on them over and over until their bodies give out — but its as if, while the body is the source of every problem in the tale, every weakness, it is also the only place where true knowledge can be translated.
卡夫卡稱自己的這篇小說是一個「很臟的故事」，認為並不完美，但是這個短篇確實我們的最愛之一。在小說中，我們可以體會到，身體是一切問題和弱點的根源，但身體也是唯一能轉化真知的地方。

4. 「Signs and Symbols,」Vladimir Nabokov

Another short one, we revere this story for its ability to turn every tiny detail into a portentous disaster, not to mention the fact that it's penned in Nabokov's effortlessly gorgeous, silvery prose. An old Jewish couple goes to visit their son in the mental hospital, only to be turned away because he has attempted to kill himself. And that's it, really. They go home and look though a photo album, eat some jam. The phonerings. But the whole thing is, perhaps, both a comment on the nature of insanity and the nature of the short story itself, with all its rules and strangeness and banality. And all its symbols, of course.
我們喜歡這篇小說的原因就在於，這個故事有能力把每個細微的細節瞬間變為一場災難，而Nabokov在寫這篇小說用的是輕松華麗水銀瀉地般的散文風格。

5. 「Gooseberries,」 Anton Chekhov

Chekhov's stories are indisputably among the greats, and this one, written rather late, is one of our favorites. Chekhov probes at both the frailty and the worth of humanity, not to mention the natureof life, both for the fortunate and the unfortunate. But like most of Chekhov's stories, there's no clear moral, there's no obvious takeaway. Some men sit around and discuss their thoughts, and we listen, mulling over the subtleties for ourselves.
契科夫的小說無疑是最偉大的作品之一，而這篇是我們的最愛。這篇小說像他的其他小說一樣，沒有清晰的道德標准，我們只是靜靜地看著幾個人圍坐著，討論他們的思想。

6. 「Sea Oak,」 George Saunders

「Sea Oak」 is Saunders's favorite of his own stories, we've heard, so because we find it so hard to choose among them, we've included it here on his own recommendation. Absurdist and satirical, and including at least one zombie shouting at her housemates to get laid, it's a weird one. But it's also concerned with placelessness, with family, with poverty, and like all of Saunders's stories, has a good, thumping heart under all that darkness and fun-poking.

這部小說是桑德斯最為喜愛的一步短篇，這也是我們聽說的。因為我們很難做出選擇，因此就把他自己的推介放在了這里。這部小說充滿了荒誕和諷刺，但是也關心家庭和貧窮等問題。像他的其他小說一樣，在黑暗和取笑中，也暗含著美好和快樂。

7. 「The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas,」 Ursula K. LeGuin

LeGuin's parabolic tale, which won the Hugo Award for best short story in 1974, is a weird, spacious story about a city that seems to be a utopia — except for its one flaw, the single child that must always be kept in darkness and wretched misery so that the others may all live happily. Most of the citizens eventually accept this, but some do not, and silently leave the city, vanishing into the world around. Strange but pointed, Le Guin is a master of her genre.
勒古這部寓言般的短篇小說獲得過1974年的「雨果獎」，是關於一個類似烏托邦的城市的荒誕又宏大的故事。

8. 「The Veldt,」 Ray Bradbury

This tale, from one of the greatest science fiction writers in history, is deliciously wicked. Though it was written in 1950, this kind of story — of children driven mad by want, of technology turning on its masters — will never get old. Until technology actually turns on us, that is. Then we probably won't want to hear about it.
布萊伯利作為歷史上最富盛名的科幻小說家，這篇小說也是通過精心編寫的。

9. 「The Bear Came Over the Mountain,」 Alice Munro

The undisputed queen of the short story, Alice Munro』s work is stark and often heartbreakingly raw, and this story of memory loss and the aching tenderness of human interaction is no different. Fun fact: this story was adapted into the film 「Away from Her」, starring Julie Christie and Gordon Pinsent.

門羅是毫無爭議的短篇小說女王，她的作品有一種朴實風格，常常帶著心跳般的粗獷，這篇關於喪失記憶以及人類互動中的痛苦和柔弱的小說也不例外。

10. 「The Nose,」 Nikolai Gogol

Gogol might be the oldest writer on this list, but he』s also one of the weirdest — in a good way. Nabokov once wrote, 「In Gogol…the absurd central character belongs to the absurd world around him but, pathetically and tragically, attempts to struggle out of it into the world of humans — and dies in despair.」 What else can an absurd noseless man do, after all?
果戈里應該是這個書單上最久遠的作家了，但是他也是最荒誕的小說家之一。納博科夫曾近這樣寫道：「在果戈里的作品中，荒誕的人物屬於他周圍荒誕的世界，但是卻可憐兮兮且悲慘地要逃離他的世界，最終死於絕望」。

Ⅹ 有哪些好看的短篇英文小說

世界三大短篇小說之王

莫泊桑、契訶夫和歐~亨利

莫泊桑（Maupassant1850～1893）19世紀後半期法國優秀的批判現實主義作家。年僅43年生命歷程竟創作了6部長篇小說和356多篇中短篇小說，莫泊桑短篇小說布局結構精巧合理。典型細節選用真實可信、敘事抒情的手法如行雲流水，充分體現了這種的文學傳統。莫泊桑的最出色的短篇代表作是《羊脂球》。《項鏈》、《我的叔叔於勒》；其作品在我國影響很大，近幾年來，一直被作為中學生必課的文學作品.

歐~亨利（1862～1910）善於描寫美國社會尤其是紐約百姓的生活。他的作品構思新穎，語言詼諧，結局常常出人意外；歐~亨利一生創作了270多個短篇小說和一部長篇小說，還有數量很少的詩歌他頗善情節設計，處處留下玄機，結局常常以出人意料出外而收場。讀後使人不禁使人豁然開朗，拍案叫絕,被稱為"歐~亨利式結尾".又因描寫了眾多的人物，富於生活情趣，被譽為「美國生活的幽默網路全書」.黑色幽默,「含淚水的微笑」。代表作有《愛的犧牲》、《警察與贊美詩》、《帶傢具出租的房間》、《麥琪的禮物》、《最後一片葉子》等.

契訶夫（1860-1904）他常以十九世界俄國社會中所常見的凡人小事為素材，用語言簡練、諷刺尖刻筆觸描寫小人物和知識分子兩類人的命運。代表作有《小職員之死》《變色龍》。《套中人》等。契河夫是19世紀末俄國偉大的劇作家和短篇小說家，俄國現實主義文學流派的傑出代表

其他的有:

茨威格短篇小說集
馬克.吐溫短篇小說集

竊賊(阿·康帕尼爾)
情書(岩井俊二)
永遠佔有(格雷厄姆·格林)
化石街(島田莊司)
棋逢對手(西瑞爾·哈爾)
首領(卡拉維洛夫)
熱愛生命(傑克·倫敦)
螞蟻 (博里斯·維昂)
蠢豬 (馬萊巴)
品酒 (羅·達爾)
打不碎的雞蛋 (馬萊巴)
勞駕，快點！(圖戈依)
品酒 (羅·達爾)