Читать книгу Not fairy tales онлайн

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The device wobbled on a thin leg and collapsed; the projector cone extinguished.

Moaning and rubbing her bruises, the girl rose to her feet.

Her father’s beastly roar shook the room.

A shiny bat of blond wood sank on Una’s head.

Her black hair soared, her skull crumpled under the impact and burst: bloody bits of bone scattered in all directions.

The girl collapsed to the floor. Dead gray eyes stared up at the ceiling, glowing with dots of diodes.

The man, no longer paying any attention to her, tossed the bat aside and fiddled with his holovisor. Straightening the base, he flicked the remote. A vague intermittent picture apparently satisfied him. Back at his rookery, the fat man plopped down on it again, froze, almost unblinking, stared at the screen.

Poly giggled against the wall, licking up the slime-like slurry. When she’d finished, she looked around the room with completely glassy eyes, stumbled over her sister’s body, and hiccupped.

The mother only turned around at her direct address, as if she had not heard the preceding noise.