Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Mother by Maxim Gorky (bookstand for reading .TXT) 📖
- Author: Maxim Gorky
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Book online «Mother by Maxim Gorky (bookstand for reading .TXT) 📖». Author Maxim Gorky
Something black and red blinded her eyes for a second. The salty taste of blood filled her mouth.
A clear outburst of shouts animated her:
“Don’t dare to beat her!”
“Boys!”
“What is it?”
“Oh, you scoundrel!”
“Give it to him!”
“They will not drown reason in blood; they will not extinguish its truth!”
She was pushed in the neck and the back, beaten about the shoulders, on the head. Everything began to turn around, grow giddy in a dark whirlwind of shouts, howls, whistles. Something thick and deafening crept into her ear, beat in her throat, choked her. The floor under her feet began to shake, giving way. Her legs bent, her body trembled, burned with pain, grew heavy, and staggered powerless. But her eyes were not extinguished, and they saw many other eyes which flashed and gleamed with the bold sharp fire known to her, with the fire dear to her heart.
She was pushed somewhere into a door.
She snatched her hand away from the gendarmes and caught hold of the doorpost.
“You will not drown the truth in seas of blood–-”
They struck her hand.
“You heap up only malice on yourself, you unwise ones! It will fall on you–-”
Somebody seized her neck and began to choke her. There was a rattle in her throat.
“You poor, sorry creatures–-”
End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Mother, by Maxim Gorky
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