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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Марсианские хроники
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- Стр. 19/287
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It
was
like
those
days
when
you
heard
a
thunderstorm
coming
and
there
was
the
waiting
silence
and
then
the
faintest
pressure
of
the
atmosphere
as
the
climate
blew
over
the
land
in
shifts
and
shadows
and
vapors
.
And
the
change
pressed
at
your
ears
and
you
were
suspended
in
the
waiting
time
of
the
coming
storm
.
You
began
to
tremble
.
The
sky
was
stained
and
coloured
;
the
clouds
were
thickened
;
the
mountains
took
on
an
iron
taint
.
The
caged
flowers
blew
with
faint
sighs
of
warning
.
You
felt
your
hair
stir
softly
.
Somewhere
in
the
house
the
voice
-
clock
sang
,
"
Time
,
time
,
time
,
time
…
"
ever
so
gently
,
no
more
than
water
tapping
on
velvet
.
And
then
the
storm
.
The
electric
illumination
,
the
engulfments
of
dark
wash
and
sounding
black
fell
down
,
shutting
in
,
forever
.
That
’
s
how
it
was
.
A
storm
gathered
,
yet
the
sky
was
clear
.
Lightning
was
expected
,
yet
there
was
no
cloud
.
Ylla
moved
through
the
breathless
summer
house
.
Lightning
would
strike
from
the
sky
any
instant
;
there
would
be
a
thunderclap
,
a
boil
of
smoke
,
a
silence
,
footsteps
on
the
path
,
a
rap
on
the
crystalline
door
,
and
her
running
to
answer
…
Crazy
Ylla
!
she
scoffed
.
Why
think
these
wild
things
with
your
idle
mind
?
And
then
it
happened
.
There
was
a
warmth
as
of
a
great
fire
passing
in
the
air
.
A
whirling
,
rushing
sound
.
A
gleam
in
the
sky
,
of
metal
.
Ylla
cried
out
.
Running
through
the
pillars
,
she
flung
wide
a
door
.
She
faced
the
hills
.
But
by
this
time
there
was
nothing
.
She
was
about
to
race
down
the
hill
when
she
stopped
herself
,
She
was
supposed
to
stay
here
,
go
nowhere
,
The
doctor
was
coming
to
visit
,
and
her
husband
would
be
angry
if
she
ran
off
.
