Tag Archive for short stories

An Avenger

Shortly after finding his wife in flagrante delicto Fyodor Fyodorovitch Sigaev was standing in Schmuck and Co.’s, the gunsmiths, selecting a suitable revolver. His countenance expressed wrath, grief, and unalterable determination. “I know what I must do,” he was thinking.…

The Cayote

by Mark Twain Another night of alternate tranquillity and turmoil.  But morning came,by and by.  It was another glad awakening to fresh breezes, vast expansesof level greensward, bright sunlight, an impressive solitude utterlywithout visible human beings or human habitations, and…

St. John’s Eve

A STORY TOLD BY THE SACRISTAN OF THE DIKANKA CHURCHThoma Grigroovitch had one very strange eccentricity: to the day of his death he never liked to tell the same thing twice. There were times when, if you asked him to…

Kassyan of Fair Springs

by Ivan Turgenev I was re­turn­ing from hunt­ing in a jolt­ing lit­tle trap, and over­come by the sti­fling heat of a cloudy sum­mer day (it is well known that the heat is often more in­sup­port­able on such days than in…

The Nose

I On the 25th March, 18—, a very strange oc­cur­rence took place in St Pe­ters­burg. On the As­cen­sion Av­enue there lived a bar­ber of the name of Ivan Jakovle­vitch. He had lost his fam­ily name, and on his sign-board, on…

Hor and Kalinitch

by Ivan TurgenevAny­one who has chanced to pass from the Bol­hovsky dis­trict into the Zhiz­drin­sky dis­trict, must have been im­pressed by the strik­ing dif­fer­ence be­tween the race of peo­ple in the province of Orel and the pop­u­la­tion of the province…

Holding up a Train

by O. HenryNote.  The man who told me these things was for sev­eral years an out­law in the South­west and a fol­lower of the pur­suit he so frankly de­scribes. His de­scrip­tion of the modus operandi should prove in­ter­est­ing, his coun­sel…

Lgov

by Ivan Turgenjev’Let us go to Lgov,’ Yer­molaï, whom the reader knows al­ready, said to me one day; ‘there we can shoot ducks to our heart’s con­tent.’Al­though wild duck of­fers no spe­cial at­trac­tion for a gen­uine sports­man, still, through lack…

Is He Living Or Is He Dead?

by Mark TwainI was spending the month of March 1892 at Mentone, in the Riviera. At this retired spot one has all the advantages, privately, which are to be had publicly at Monte Carlo and Nice, a few miles farther…

The Pimienta Pancakes

by O. Henry While we were round­ing up a bunch of the Tri­an­gle-O cat­tle in the Frio bot­toms a pro­ject­ing branch of a dead mes­quite caught my wooden stir­rup and gave my ankle a wrench that laid me up in camp…