Drama Eastern Suspense Fantasy Melodrama Action Cyberpunk Adventures Mysticism Horror Accident Anti-Utopia Fantastic Documentary History Extreme Family, children's Performance Fairy tales Crime Sports Detective Black comedy Tragicomedy Military Musical Parody Biography Western Comedy Erotica Karate Animation Tragedy Thriller Scientifically popular
Fairy tales of the Viennese wood
LOOK ONLINE - Terrible that would be ... - Who will win, Wolf? - Eagerly re asked Abel. - Allies ... - again, after a pause said Messing.He was like a painter - in those days they wore long, almost shoulder-length hair, fine trimmed beard and mustache. Wolf to have no beard and mustache - just thick long black hair. - And when that happens, Mr. Messing? - Abel asked again. Wolf stared out the window, finally said:- In the seventeenth ... no, in the eighteenth year ... - I can not even imagine what a terrible massacre - Abel shook his head. Vienna, 1915 In office Messing looked the young man and said quietly: - Visitor to you, Wolf, G.. - Ask, ask ... - Let me introduce myself: Hans Schweber, salesman.- Remove the cap, in walked a man in his fifties, wearing a jacket, shtanahgalife and high boots. - I was advised to speak to you, Herr Messing, because I'm in big trouble: a letter from his son was a month ago, said he was going home, and it still no. A road from Marseille at most a week ... That can take a look?They say you're a big whale on these matters. - And Schweber put down the letter in an envelope, sat down in the chair across the table. - What are you doing? - Just smile Messing. - Well, it's ... - Hans Schweber somewhat confused. - See a time ... or as I say? Through distance? I do not know, you know better ... - quite confused salesman.- See through time? - Messing film Comrade Stalin and asked, turning the envelope. - Nuno .. He read a long line ... finished reading the letter to the end and go back to the beginning. His face became tense and black eyes widened again. Then he put the letter, rose because of the table and walked to the window.He looked out the window, and behind with growing alarm sounded the voice of a Salesman Schweber: - You know, repp Messing, three years ago my husband died of a heart attack, and last year daughter died in March of pneumonia. Son - all that is left for me. When she died in March, I began to call her son home ... and finally got a letter from him.But in it he says that will soon return, and its still no. Really, I was not myself ... Messing back to the table, began to read the letter again, frowned. Then put the letter on the table, his fingers clenched his whiskey and closed his eyes. Mr. Schweber fearfully watched him.- I have to disappoint you, Mr. Schweber - finally a low voice said Messing. - Your son will not come ... you should not have to wait ... - What? - Interrupted Schweber. - How it does not come? He also wrote that he was going home.
LOOK ONLINE How can you say that? You have the same letter in his hands. - It's a dead man ... writing - hardly managed a Messing. - How the dead?You mean, what ... what do you mean? - Just what I said, Mr. Schweber. Believe me, I'm very hard to tell you this, but ... a letter written by a man who ... is now dead. Schweber jumped up, grabbed the table a letter, envelope, glared at Messing: - Dirty charlatan, you pay me for it ... dirty kike face!All of you to the gallows! - Schweber shook his clenched fist, and almost ran out of the room, stamping his boots.