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Datlow, Ellen (ed) - Supernatural Noir / Датлоу, Эллен (ред) - Сверхестественный нуар [2011, epub, ENG]

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OldOldNick

Datlow, Ellen (ed) - Supernatural Noir

Название: Supernatural Noir / Сверхестественный нуар
Год выпуска: 2011
Под редакцией: Datlow, Ellen / Датлоу, Эллен
Издательство: Dark Horse Books
ISBN: 978-1-62115-333-7
Формат: epub
Качество: eBook
Язык: английский

Описание:
Антология рассказов в жанре "нуар", но с чем-нибудь сверхестественным ...
The Dingus short fiction by Gregory Frost
The Getaway / Побег short story by Paul Tremblay
Mortal Bait short fiction by Richard Bowes
Little Shit short fiction by Melanie Tem
Ditch Witch novelette by Lucius Shepard
The Last Triangle short story by Jeffrey Ford
The Carrion Gods in Their Heaven short fiction by Laird Barron
The Romance short fiction by Elizabeth Bear
Dead Sister short fiction by Joe R. Lansdale
Comfortable in Her Skin short fiction by Lee Thomas
But for Scars short fiction by Tom Piccirilli
The Blisters on My Heart short fiction by Nate Southard
The Absent Eye short story by Brian Evenson
The Maltese Unicorn novelette by Caitlín R. Kiernan
Dreamer of the Day short story by Nick Mamatas
In Paris, In the Mouth of Kronos / В Париже, в пасти Кроноса novelette by John Langan
DEAD SISTER
Joe R. Lansdale


I had my office window open, and the October wind was making my hair ruffle. I was turned sideways and had my feet up, cooling my heels on the edge of my desk, noticing my socks. Once the pattern on the socks had been clocks; now the designs were so thin and colorless, I could damn near see my ankles through them.
I was looking out the window, watching the town square from where I sat, three floors up, which was as high as anything went in Mud Creek. It seemed pretty busy down there for a town of only eight thousand. Even a couple of dogs were looking industrious, as if they were in a hurry to get somewhere and do something important. Chase a cat, bite a mailman, or bury a bone.
Me, I wasn’t working right then, and hadn’t in a while. For me, 1958 had not been a banner year.
I was about to get a bottle of cheap whiskey out of my desk drawer, when there was a knock on the door. I could see my name spelled backward on the pebbled glass, and beyond that a shadow that had a nice overall shape.
I said, “Come on in, the water’s fine.”
. . .
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