"Jensen-TheKaleidoscope" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jensen J Patrick)J. PATRICK JENSEN THE KALEIDOSCOPE IT WAS A DELICATE THING in Daniel's grasp, as though a single rash gesture might crush it to bits of black crepe. As he rolled the kaleidoscope between his frigid hands, admiring its smooth texture, it flashed brilliant celestial light from its obsidian shell. He stood, mesmerized, galoshesdeep in the snow. When he had seen it in the toy shop, tucked inconspicuously among stuffed animals, he'd grabbed it without looking inside and brought it to the stout woman behind the counter. Days earlier his father had said with a sad, frail smile, "Here's ten dollars. Get anything you want. We're doing things a little different this Christmas." Daniel searched his coat pockets for three dollars. Out came a crumpled dollar and some nickels, though more change jingled in his right pocket. He remembered the hole in this particular pocket where change always fell into another dimension between the lining and outer material: a magician's secret compartment. He stood shaking out coins while the saleswoman marshaled toy soldiers on a wooden shelf trimmed with holly. One last coin remained, and when Daniel freed it and laid it out with the rest of his money, he stared astonished at his balance. Precisely three dollars. As though he was destined to have the kaleidoscope. Now outside the toy shop, he raised the cylinder and looked inside. He gasped, then stood for a long, long time, motionless in the white winter snow. His head tilted back, two tears slid down his face and pooled in each ear. After a while he placed it carefully in his trousers pocket and walked home. Lying in bed that night, he used a flashlight to illuminate the kaleidoscope's interior. Across the room his older brother Aaron tossed violently in bed to stress a point. Before their mother died such a thing as a flashlight would not keep Aaron awake, but now it irritated him the way everything did these days. "For crying out loud, put that thing out!" his brother barked into the wall. He made to position the light beneath his pillow. Aaron shot up in bed and hissed: "What did I say- !?" Daniel clicked off the light. One clear, cold afternoon Daniel arrived home to find the house unnaturally still. "Dad?" he called, setting his schoolbooks upon the kitchen table. He walked through the living room, hearing only dying embers in the fireplace and the melancholy tick-tock of the grandfather clock. He half expected to see Dad in his chair, smiling at the newspaper funnies. When More was alive his father laughed out loud. Daniel turned the comer where their Christmas tree had stood in years past and headed upstairs. Dad was sitting on Daniel's bed and, while making it up after his son forgot to that morning, had apparently discovered the kaleidoscope. He wondered how long his father had sat there staring frozen into the iridescent tube. Dad reluctantly pulled the kaleidoscope away and Daniel noticed a reddened imprint around his eye, something he normally would have found comical. Dad gazed trancelike at him, his eyes bloodshot, as though tears had flowed but long ago dried. Finally Dad handed him the toy and said, "Keep it in a safe place, son." Brittle sunlight played gently through the frost-speckled window, imbuing the bedroom in kaleidoscopic patterns. Daniel opened his eyes a fraction, watching water swim in his vision: the tearful remnants of sorrowful dreams. He fully opened his eyes and the phantoms dissipated to sparkling snowflakes like the ones finished falling outside. He sat up and looked upon Aaron's vacant bed. His brother rose early, rain or slid his hand beneath the pillow... ...and found empty space. Daniel sprang to his knees-- instantly awake-- and ripped his pillow from the mattress. Bare. The world spun. He jumped to the floor and frantically wrestled his blankets off the bed, shaking out the sheets, spreading each blanket flat on the floor. He turned his pillowcase out. He shone his flashlight under the boxspring. Breathless, he yanked his bed to the center of the room. Where was it? Where was it? Aaron strolled into the room, redfaced from exposure, his clothes spattered with snow. Daniel turned on him, panicked, verging on tears and black rage. "What did you do with it?" he screamed. "Huh?" replied Aaron. "The kaleidoscope! What have you done with the kaleidoscope?" "Oh, that." Aaron poked around in his pockets, shook his head. "Sorry, sport. I musta lost it." "You what?" Daniel trembled furiously. "It looked kinda neat, I dunno. I put it in my jacket when I went out sledding. I was gonna stop and look in it. Guess I forgot." Daniel felt the world crumbling around him. "Hey," said Aaron, becoming quarrelsome again, "why are you so hung up on a stupid toy anyhow?" Daniel yelled and leaped on him, thrashing wildly. He crushed him to the floor, snarling like a rabid animal, raking his nails into exposed flesh. Aaron shrieked in pained surprise. Dad burst into the room, and after separating the boys, heard the story through their labored breath. Dad looked as though a giant skyscraper had collapsed in him. Silently he sat down, right in the midst of all the clutter, right down on the floor he plopped, and put his face in his hands. Aaron, bewildered and outright frightened by this display, ran out of the room. Daniel looked out the window as his brother, whom he truly did not hate now, bounded away from the house, leaving ragged holes in the pristine snow. Dinner was mournfully quiet that evening. Dad had not punished Aaron--hadn't talked about the kaleidoscope at all -- and, in fact, hugged him along with Daniel as both boys went up to bed. Dad then opened the trash container and emptied three half-full plates slowly. No sleep claimed Daniel as he lay on his side. He closed his wet eyes halfway in the gloom, but what he saw could not touch the fragile beauty and magic of his lost kaleidoscope. During the night Aaron cried out in his sleep. Daniel rolled over to see him sitting and sobbing in darkness. When Dad came in and sat down, Aaron threw his arms around him. Daniel pretended to sleep as he watched them. "Ssshhh," whispered Dad. "It's okay now." Aaron's voice, muffled against his father's chest, drifted across the room. "Dad, I had a dream about Mom." Daniel's heart caught in his chest, for Aaron had barely mentioned their mother since cancer had taken her from them all. "In the dream, I saw her pretty face. Oh, I wish I could see her again!" Daniel swallowed hard, trying not to make a sound as Dad embraced Aaron, who never got the chance to look inside the kaleidoscope. J. PATRICK JENSEN THE KALEIDOSCOPE IT WAS A DELICATE THING in Daniel's grasp, as though a single rash gesture might crush it to bits of black crepe. As he rolled the kaleidoscope between his frigid hands, admiring its smooth texture, it flashed brilliant celestial light from its obsidian shell. He stood, mesmerized, galoshesdeep in the snow. When he had seen it in the toy shop, tucked inconspicuously among stuffed animals, he'd grabbed it without looking inside and brought it to the stout woman behind the counter. Days earlier his father had said with a sad, frail smile, "Here's ten dollars. Get anything you want. We're doing things a little different this Christmas." Daniel searched his coat pockets for three dollars. Out came a crumpled dollar and some nickels, though more change jingled in his right pocket. He remembered the hole in this particular pocket where change always fell into another dimension between the lining and outer material: a magician's secret compartment. He stood shaking out coins while the saleswoman marshaled toy soldiers on a wooden shelf trimmed with holly. One last coin remained, and when Daniel freed it and laid it out with the rest of his money, he stared astonished at his balance. Precisely three dollars. As though he was destined to have the kaleidoscope. Now outside the toy shop, he raised the cylinder and looked inside. He gasped, then stood for a long, long time, motionless in the white winter snow. His head tilted back, two tears slid down his face and pooled in each ear. After a while he placed it carefully in his trousers pocket and walked home. Lying in bed that night, he used a flashlight to illuminate the kaleidoscope's interior. Across the room his older brother Aaron tossed violently in bed to stress a point. Before their mother died such a thing as a flashlight would not keep Aaron awake, but now it irritated him the way everything did these days. "For crying out loud, put that thing out!" his brother barked into the wall. He made to position the light beneath his pillow. Aaron shot up in bed and hissed: "What did I say- !?" Daniel clicked off the light. One clear, cold afternoon Daniel arrived home to find the house unnaturally still. "Dad?" he called, setting his schoolbooks upon the kitchen table. He walked through the living room, hearing only dying embers in the fireplace and the melancholy tick-tock of the grandfather clock. He half expected to see Dad in his chair, smiling at the newspaper funnies. When More was alive his father laughed out loud. Daniel turned the comer where their Christmas tree had stood in years past and headed upstairs. Dad was sitting on Daniel's bed and, while making it up after his son forgot to that morning, had apparently discovered the kaleidoscope. He wondered how long his father had sat there staring frozen into the iridescent tube. Dad reluctantly pulled the kaleidoscope away and Daniel noticed a reddened imprint around his eye, something he normally would have found comical. Dad gazed trancelike at him, his eyes bloodshot, as though tears had flowed but long ago dried. Finally Dad handed him the toy and said, "Keep it in a safe place, son." Brittle sunlight played gently through the frost-speckled window, imbuing the bedroom in kaleidoscopic patterns. Daniel opened his eyes a fraction, watching water swim in his vision: the tearful remnants of sorrowful dreams. He fully opened his eyes and the phantoms dissipated to sparkling snowflakes like the ones finished falling outside. He sat up and looked upon Aaron's vacant bed. His brother rose early, rain or shine, sometimes a full hour before he himself awoke. Seeing a clear coast, he slid his hand beneath the pillow... ...and found empty space. Daniel sprang to his knees-- instantly awake-- and ripped his pillow from the mattress. Bare. The world spun. He jumped to the floor and frantically wrestled his blankets off the bed, shaking out the sheets, spreading each blanket flat on the floor. He turned his pillowcase out. He shone his flashlight under the boxspring. Breathless, he yanked his bed to the center of the room. Where was it? Where was it? Aaron strolled into the room, redfaced from exposure, his clothes spattered with snow. Daniel turned on him, panicked, verging on tears and black rage. "What did you do with it?" he screamed. "Huh?" replied Aaron. "The kaleidoscope! What have you done with the kaleidoscope?" "Oh, that." Aaron poked around in his pockets, shook his head. "Sorry, sport. I musta lost it." "You what?" Daniel trembled furiously. "It looked kinda neat, I dunno. I put it in my jacket when I went out sledding. I was gonna stop and look in it. Guess I forgot." Daniel felt the world crumbling around him. "Hey," said Aaron, becoming quarrelsome again, "why are you so hung up on a stupid toy anyhow?" Daniel yelled and leaped on him, thrashing wildly. He crushed him to the floor, snarling like a rabid animal, raking his nails into exposed flesh. Aaron shrieked in pained surprise. Dad burst into the room, and after separating the boys, heard the story through their labored breath. Dad looked as though a giant skyscraper had collapsed in him. Silently he sat down, right in the midst of all the clutter, right down on the floor he plopped, and put his face in his hands. Aaron, bewildered and outright frightened by this display, ran out of the room. Daniel looked out the window as his brother, whom he truly did not hate now, bounded away from the house, leaving ragged holes in the pristine snow. Dinner was mournfully quiet that evening. Dad had not punished Aaron--hadn't talked about the kaleidoscope at all -- and, in fact, hugged him along with Daniel as both boys went up to bed. Dad then opened the trash container and emptied three half-full plates slowly. No sleep claimed Daniel as he lay on his side. He closed his wet eyes halfway in the gloom, but what he saw could not touch the fragile beauty and magic of his lost kaleidoscope. During the night Aaron cried out in his sleep. Daniel rolled over to see him sitting and sobbing in darkness. When Dad came in and sat down, Aaron threw his arms around him. Daniel pretended to sleep as he watched them. "Ssshhh," whispered Dad. "It's okay now." Aaron's voice, muffled against his father's chest, drifted across the room. "Dad, I had a dream about Mom." Daniel's heart caught in his chest, for Aaron had barely mentioned their mother since cancer had taken her from them all. "In the dream, I saw her pretty face. Oh, I wish I could see her again!" Daniel swallowed hard, trying not to make a sound as Dad embraced Aaron, who never got the chance to look inside the kaleidoscope. |
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