# Aron Stepanyan 312

Вячеслав Владимирович Тимофеев

House of stone and fog

After eating a hard boiled egg for breakfast, I went on reading the fresh London newspaper. A letter

was brought to me. I opened the letter and started to read it, "We regret to tell you that your uncle

Mr. Blackmoore passed away, we kindly ask you to come to settle some things". I started

recollecting that uncle, he was from my mother"s side, I had only seen him three times. I put on an

old three-piece suit, got a cab and went on.

It was getting dark, the weather was gloomy, there was no sight of dawn. I got to the place and saw

a windswept house there. The walls were made of stone, the windows barely let in the desired light.

Out came a butler carrying a yellow lantern.

"Please, sir", he said to me and we entered the house. "Old Mr. Blackmoore let every Tom, Dick and

Harry into the house", he added.

I looked around to see three street boys settled in a large room. One of them told that the Master

used to pay them two pence a day. They were doing some housework: chopped wood, brought

water and the like. Another dweller was an old flea dog, the late Mr. Blackmoore"s favourite pet.

The butler and his wife, who was also a housekeeper, lived on the ground floor, Mr. Blackmore

lived on the first.

I left some money to the housekeeper and hurriedly went to London and then home.

Juice and soft drinks

When the country was living under the gold seal, the earth had rest from sowing every seven years.

We were eating apples and honey from honeycombs.

Wind

Me and an American were standing at an open space, the wind was blowing my hair and spreading

the seeds of evil. I was wearing a cape and the American was dressed in a draped coat. We were

smiling.

Profit

I went too far and started looking for rat droppings in restaurants.

Sugar chart

Bachelors, impotents, monks - no more games.

Passenger My face was like the sun. Radiating warmth. I was wearing a badge next to the solar plexus.