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Beagle, Peter S. (ed.) - The Unicorn Anthology / Бигл, Питер С. (ред.) - Антология Единорог [2019, EPUB, ENG]

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Peter S. Beagle (ed.) - The Unicorn Anthology

Название: The Unicorn Anthology / Антология Единорог
Год выпуска: 2019
Под редакцией: Beagle, Peter S. & Weisman, Jacob / Бигл, Питер С. & Уэйсман, Джекоб
Издательство: Tachyon Publications
ISBN: 978-1-61696-283-8
Формат: EPUB
Качество: eBook (retail)
Язык: английский

Описание:
Антология о единорогах, составленная автором знаменитого "Последнего единорога".
The Magical Properties of Unicorn Ivory short story by Carlos Hernandez
The Brew short story by Karen Joy Fowler
Falling Off the Unicorn short story by David D. Levine and Sara A. Mueller
A Hunter's Ode to His Bait short story by Carrie Vaughn
Ghost Town short story by Jack C. Haldeman, II
A Thousand Flowers novelette by Margo Lanagan
The Maltese Unicorn novelette by Caitlín R. Kiernan
Stampede of Light short story by Marina Fitch
The Highest Justice short story by Garth Nix
The Lion and the Unicorn short story by A. C. Wise
Survivor short story by Dave Smeds
Homeward Bound short story by Bruce Coville
Unicorn Triangle short story by Patricia A. McKillip
My Son Heydari and the Karkadann short story by Peter S. Beagle
The Transfigured Hart short story by Jane Yolen
Unicorn Series poem by Nancy Springer
UNICORN TRIANGLE


Patricia A. McKillip


I GET FLASHBACKS NOW AND THEN. What it was like. Then. Before. The moonlight a path of diamonds and ivory, suspended between the mist of trees whose names I knew, every one of them, as well as who had dropped what nut that made this tree, that meant this name. My watching eyes as dark as night, my pelt as sleek and perfect as the moon at full, my hooves and spiraling horn forged of that dream, that glittering. All the scents and secret whisperings: water, brambles opening flowers, sharpening thorns, bracken crumbling oh so slowly, a sift, a shift of a splinter of wood, a break of driest leaf spending a timeless moment edging apart, resettling itself like a dreamer fitting itself into sleep, into earth. The sound of the wings of the Luna moth fluttering toward that white fire, spellbound by the moon.
Then. I almost remember my name.
. . .
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