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- Нил Гейман
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- Американские боги
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- Стр. 493/641
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Hang
me
,
O
hang
me
,
and
I
’
ll
be
dead
and
gone
,
I
wouldn
’
t
mind
the
hangin
’
,
it
’
s
bein
’
gone
so
long
,
It
’
s
lyin
’
in
the
grave
so
long
.
—
OLD
SONG
The
first
day
that
Shadow
hung
from
the
tree
he
experienced
only
discomfort
,
that
edged
slowly
into
pain
and
fear
and
,
occasionally
,
an
emotion
that
was
somewhere
between
boredom
and
apathy
:
a
gray
acceptance
,
a
waiting
.
He
hung
.
The
wind
was
still
.
After
several
hours
fleeting
bursts
of
color
started
to
explode
across
his
vision
in
blossoms
of
crimson
and
gold
,
throbbing
and
pulsing
with
a
life
of
their
own
.
The
pain
in
his
arms
and
legs
became
,
by
degrees
,
intolerable
.
If
he
relaxed
them
,
let
his
body
go
slack
and
dangle
,
if
he
flopped
forward
,
then
the
rope
around
his
neck
would
take
up
the
slack
and
the
world
would
shimmer
and
swim
.
So
he
pushed
himself
back
against
the
trunk
of
the
tree
.
He
could
feel
his
heart
laboring
in
his
chest
,
a
pounding
arrhythmic
tattoo
as
it
pumped
the
blood
through
his
body
…
Emeralds
and
sapphires
and
rubies
crystallized
and
burst
in
front
of
his
eyes
.
His
breath
came
in
shallow
gulps
.
The
bark
of
the
tree
was
rough
against
his
back
.
The
chill
of
the
afternoon
on
his
naked
skin
made
him
shiver
,
made
his
flesh
prickle
and
goose
.
