"Pat Murphy - Iris versus the Black Knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy Pat)

"I'm looking for the colors," she said. "I wanted to. . . . "

"There are no colors," the voice said. "There never were any colors."

She was afraid. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt small, very small. "But I remember colors," she
began. "The sky was blue, the grass was green, the flowers. . . . "

"You don't know anything," the voice said. "You're just a stupid little girl. The sky is gray, the grass is gray,
the flowers are gray. They have always been gray. Be quiet and go home."

She wasn't smart. She knew she wasn't smart. Her teacher told her that; her mother told her that. The voice
sounded like it knew what it was talking about, so stern and confident. She knew she shouldn't argue. The
voice was level now, but she could sense a hidden anger that might erupt if she disagreed again. Maybe she
was wrong. There were no colors. She should just go home and draw pictures with her gray crayons. Maybe
gray was not so bad.

Then the seagull that perched on the turret shrieked and she looked at him. Yesterday, his beak had been
bright yellow with a red spot near the tip.

"No," she said, her voice still small. "That's not true. There used to be colors."

"Never," the voice said.

"Yes, there were colors." Her voice was louder now, and shrill. "We made red hearts on Valentines Day. And
green shamrocks on St. Patrick's Day. And on Halloween, I drew pictures in orange and black."

"Black," said the voice, deeper now. The voice came from behind her and she turned to face it. "There is
black. Only black."

The fog had gathered behind her in a dark cloud that formed an enormous figure. The fog swirled and the
figure grew more solid and distinct: a man in glistening black armor. He wore a black plume in his helmet,
carried a black sword at his side. "There is no rainbow," said the black knight. "No colors." He stepped
toward her, his sword held high. "Go home, little girl." He took a long slow swing at her with his sword.

She stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet in her haste to dodge the blow. She was shaking; she
was cold and afraid. He was right; she should just go home -- if only she could find the way.

"Go home and learn to be a good girl," the black knight said. "Learn to draw in black and white. That's the
way the world is. Go home."

She stumbled back again, barely evading the slowly swinging blade. What had made her think that she could
find colors in a gray world? The knight lifted his sword to swing again.
She heard the thunder of wings and saw a flash of gray and white. The gull swooped under the swinging
sword and snatched a dark stick from the gray floor. The bird circled the knight's head, then swooped again,
placing the stick in Iris's hand as it passed.

Iris clutched a crayon. She recognized it as her own crayon. It must have fallen from her pocket when she
stumbled.

"There is only black," the knight said. "There is no rainbow."