"Charles L. Grant - Glow of Candles, Unicorn's eye" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Charles L)

there probably would be scars. And why not?
"You're supposed to be brave, yet frightened, Anderson," the voice piped on, as though my
screams hadn't been real enough. "Fearless, yet hinting at grave doubts as to your next plan of
action. There is a flood coming, Anderson, a flood! Do you have any idea what that means?"
"I'll drown," I said, just loud enough for him to misunderstand.
"I don't think you're right for this job, Anderson, to tell you the truth," the director
said after a carefully measured dozen beats of pacing, and waiting for word that the tiger was all
right. "You . . . you are required, you see, to set an example, the perfect example, for the
audience-in case you've forgotten. You must radiate courage, determination, and just a drop of
apprehension. You have trials yet to come, remember, trials that you cannot possibly imagine. And
these trials that you cannot possibly imagine are filling you with challenge and trepidation. And,
I might add, those children out there who are watching will want to be with you! They have to
understand not only the vicissitudes of -life, but also their symbolic representations in your
journey. If they don't, they're only going to get nightmares. Do you follow me, Anderson? I say,
do you follow me?"
Whither thou directeth, midget, I thought, then quickly nodded and raised my hands in a
virtuoso combination

display of supplication (for the continuance of the job), ,! surrender (to the director's artistic
authority), and defiance (for the sole benefit of the tapeman who was still running his :J idiotic
machine).
The director grinned.
I clamped my hands firmly on my knees and straightened
to my full sitting height. '!
"That's fine, Anderson. I knew we would be able to
communicate once you got to know me a little better. Now, u
we have about thirty minutes or so before the flood. Why i
don't you take a short break and prepare yourself? We can .
run through the close-ups later on, when the flood goes
down. Is that all right with you?" ;1
"Whatever you say, boss," I said. And after he had tramped off somewhere to commune with
whatever he communed with to make these tapes, I slid off the rock to the carefully trimmed grass,
crossed my legs, and folded my hands over my stomach. After a doubtful glance at the sky, I closed
my eyes, wrinkled my brow in practiced concentration, and fell ^' asleep.
When I dreamed, it was of a small glass unicorn surrounded by low-burning candles.

The flood came precisely on cue-the director wouldn't
have had it otherwise-but the finely woven strands of
safety line that should have prevented me from being swept
away into the next sound stage snapped under the pressure.
Luckily, I was out of position and managed to grab on to the
director's oak, where they found me tightly gripping the
trunk when the waters subsided. When I opened my eyes
and they realized I was far more frightened than injured,
they let me be. Except for the director, who slapped me on
the back, patted me slyly on the left cheek (both of them),


file:///G|/rah/Glow%20of%20Candles,%20a%20Unicorn's%20Eye.txt (3 of 17) [2/14/2004 12:18:19 AM]
 file:///G|/rah/Glow%20of%20Candles,%20a%20Unicorn's%20Eye.txt