THE SHORT STORIES OF ERNEST HEMINGWAY: The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber; The Snows of Kilimanjaro; Up in Michigan; The Killers

THE SHORT STORIES OF ERNEST HEMINGWAY: The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber; The Snows of Kilimanjaro; Up in Michigan; The Killers

Language: English

Pages: 0

ISBN: B000KN2XTS

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

THE SHORT STORIES OF ERNEST HEMINGWAY: The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber; The Snows of Kilimanjaro; Up in Michigan; The Killers

Language: English

Pages: 0

ISBN: B000KN2XTS

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


THE SHORT STORIES OF ERNEST HEMINGWAY: The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber; The Snows of Kilimanjaro; Up in Michigan; The Killers

Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History

Kolyma Tales

Nightmares & Dreamscapes

In Heaven, Everything Is Fine: Fiction Inspired by David Lynch

A Thousand Years of Good Prayers: Stories

Twilight Land

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

spread over his cage, was out of the draft in the corridor that went into the compartment wash-room. There was a blue light outside the compartment, and all night the train went very fast and the American lady lay awake and waited for a wreck. In the morning the train was near Paris, and after the American lady had come out from the wash-room, looking very wholesome and middle-aged and American in spite of not having slept, and had taken the cloth off the birdcage and hung the cage in the sun,

The waitress pretended not to hear him. “Mademoiselle,” he called again. The waitress came over. “You wish something?” “Very much. I’ll give you three hundred francs.” “You are hateful.” “Three hundred francs Swiss.” She went away and Mr. Wheeler looked after her. A porter opened the door. He was the one who had Mr. Wheeler’s bags in his charge. “The train is coming, sir,” he said in French. Mr. Wheeler stood up. “Mademoiselle,” he called. The waitress came toward the table. “How much is

father’s underwear that had gotten too small for his father it made him feel sick and he took it off and put it under two stones in the creek and said that he had lost it. He had told his father how it was when his father had made him put it on but his father had said it was freshly washed. It had been, too. When Nick had asked him to smell of it his father sniffed at it indignantly and said that it was clean and fresh. When Nick came home from fishing without it and said he lost it he was

sporting page. He folded The Star open and propped it against the water pitcher with his cereal dish to steady it, so he could read while he ate. “Harold,” his mother stood in the kitchen doorway, “Harold, please don’t muss up the paper. Your father can’t read his Star if it’s been mussed.” “I won’t muss it,” Krebs said. His sister sat down at the table and watched him while he read. “We’re playing indoor over at school this afternoon,” she said. “I’m going to pitch.” “Good,” said Krebs.

barn. He had a couple of his health-farm patients with the gloves on. They neither one wanted to hit the other, for fear the other would come back and hit him. “That’ll do,” Hogan said when he saw me come in. “You can stop the slaughter. You gentlemen take a shower and Bruce will rub you down.” They climbed out through the ropes and Hogan came over to me. “John Collins is out with a couple of friends to see Jack,” I said. “I saw them come up in the car.” “Who are the two fellows with John?”

Download sample

Download