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- Рэй Брэдбери
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The
witch
moving
but
silent
,
and
perhaps
soon
dead
in
her
crystal
coffin
.
He
looked
at
Mr
.
Black
droning
there
,
defying
all
worlds
,
even
his
own
.
Someday
the
fine
machinery
would
rust
from
lack
of
loving
care
,
the
Keystone
Kops
freeze
forever
half
in
,
half
out
of
the
lake
,
half
caught
,
half
struck
by
locomotive
;
the
Wright
Brothers
never
get
their
kite
machine
off
the
ground
.
.
.
"
Tom
,
"
Douglas
said
,
"
we
got
to
sit
in
the
library
and
figure
this
thing
out
.
"
They
moved
on
down
the
street
,
the
white
unwritten
card
passing
between
them
.
They
sat
inside
the
library
in
the
lidded
green
light
and
then
they
sat
outside
on
the
carved
stone
lion
,
dangling
their
feet
over
its
back
,
frowning
.
"
Old
man
Black
,
all
the
time
screaming
at
her
,
threatening
to
kill
her
.
"
"
You
can
’
t
kill
what
’
s
never
lived
,
Doug
.
"
"
He
treats
the
witch
like
she
’
s
alive
or
was
once
alive
,
or
something
.
Screaming
at
her
,
so
maybe
she
’
s
finally
given
up
.
Or
maybe
she
hasn
’
t
given
up
at
all
,
but
’
s
taken
a
secret
way
to
warn
us
her
life
’
s
in
danger
.
Invisible
ink
.
Lemon
juice
,
maybe
!
There
’
s
a
message
here
she
didn
’
t
want
Mr
.
Black
to
see
,
in
case
he
looked
while
we
were
in
his
arcade
.
Hold
on
!
I
got
some
matches
.
"
"
Why
would
she
write
us
,
Doug
?
"
"
Hold
the
card
.
Here
!
"
Douglas
struck
a
match
and
ran
it
under
the
card
.
