外国短篇小说500字

A. 急需一个英文短篇小说 500〜800字！求快！要原创型的！

El Sordo was making his fight on a hilltop. He did not like this hill and when he saw it he thought it had the shape of a chancre. But he had had no choice except this hill and he had picked it as far away as he could see it and galloped for it, the automatic rifle heavy on his back, the horse laboring, barrel heaving between his thighs, the sack of grenades swinging against one side, the sack of automatic rifle pans banging against the other, and Joaqu璯 and Ignacio halting and firing, halting and firing to give him time to get the gun in place.
There had still been snow then, the snow that had ruined them, and when his horse was hit so that he wheezed in a slow, jerking, climbing stagger up the last part of the crest, splattering the snow with a bright, pulsing jet, Sordo had hauled him along by the bridle, the reins over his shoulder as he climbed. He climbed as hard as he could with the bullets spatting on the rocks, with the two sacks heavy on his shoulders, and then, holding the horse by the mane, had shot him quickly, expertly, and tenderly just where he had needed him, so that the horse pitched, head forward down to plug a gap between two rocks. He had gotten the gun to firing over the horse's back and he fired two pans, the gun clattering, the empty shells pitching into the snow, the smell of burnt hair from the burnt hide where the hot muzzle rested, him firing at what came up to the hill, forcing them to scatter for cover, while all the time there was a chill in his back from not knowing what was behind him. Once the last of the five men had reached the hilltop the chill went out of his back and he had saved the pans he had left until he would need them.
There were two more horses dead along the slope and three more were dead here on the hilltop. He had only succeeded in stealing three horses last night and one had bolted when they tried to mount him bareback in the corral at the camp when the first shooting had started.
Of the five men who had reached the hilltop three were wounded. Sordo was wounded in the calf of his leg and in two places in his left arm. He was very thirsty, his wounds had stiffened, and one of the wounds in his left arm was very painful. He also had a bad headache and as he lay waiting for the planes to come he thought of a joke in Spanish. It was, "_Hay que tomar la muerte como si fuera aspirina_," which means, "You will have to take death as an aspirin." But he did not make the joke aloud. He grinned somewhere inside the pain in his head and inside the nausea that came whenever he moved his arm and looked around at what there was left of his band.
The five men were spread out like the points of a five-pointed star. They had g with their knees and hands and made mounds in front of their heads and shoulders with the dirt and piles of stones. Using this cover, they were linking the indivial mounds up with stones and dirt. Joaqu璯, who was eighteen years old, had a steel helmet that he g with and he passed dirt in it.
He had gotten this helmet at the blowing up of the train. It had a bullet hole through it and every one had always joked at him for keeping it. But he had hammered the jagged edges of the bullet hole smooth and driven a wooden plug into it and then cut the plug off and smoothed it even with the metal inside the helmet.
When the shooting started he had clapped this helmet on his head so hard it banged his head as though he had been hit with a casserole and, in the last lung-aching, leg-dead, mouth-dry, bulletspatting, bullet-cracking, bullet-singing run up the final slope of the hill after his horse was killed, the helmet had seemed to weigh a great amount and to ring his bursting forehead with an iron band. But he had kept it. Now he g with it in a steady, almost machinelike desperation. He had not yet been hit.
"It serves for something finally," Sordo said to him in his deep, throaty voice.
"_Resistir y fortificar es vencer_," Joaqu璯 said, his mouth stiff with the dryness of fear which surpassed the normal thirst of battle. It was one of the slogans of the Communist party and it meant, "Hold out and fortify, and you will win."
Sordo looked away and down the slope at where a cavalryman was sniping from behind a boulder. He was very fond of this boy and he was in no mood for slogans.
"What did you say?"
One of the men turned from the building that he was doing. This man was lying flat on his face, reaching carefully up with his hands to put a rock in place while keeping his chin flat against the ground.
Joaqu璯 repeated the slogan in his dried-up boy's voice without checking his digging for a moment.
"What was the last word?" the man with his chin on the ground asked.
"_Vencer_," the boy said. "Win."
"_Mierda_," the man with his chin on the ground said.
"There is another that applies to here," Joaqu璯 said, bringing them out as though they were talismans, "Pasionaria says it is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees."
"_Mierda_ again," the man said and another man said, over his shoulder, "We're on our bellies, not our knees."
"Thou. Communist. Do you know your Pasionaria has a son thy age in Russia since the start of the movement?"
"It's a lie," Joaqu璯 said.
"_Qu?va_, it's a lie," the other said. "The dynamiter with the rare name told me. He was of thy party, too. Why should he lie?"
"It's a lie," Joaqu璯 said. "She would not do such a thing as keep a son hidden in Russia out of the war."
"I wish I were in Russia," another of Sordo's men said. "Will not thy Pasionaria send me now from here to Russia, Communist?"
"If thou believest so much in thy Pasionaria, get her to get us off this hill," one of the men who had a bandaged thigh said.
"The fascists will do that," the man with his chin in the dirt said.
"Do not speak thus," Joaqu璯 said to him.
"Wipe the pap of your mother's breasts off thy lips and give me a hatful of that dirt," the man with his chin on the ground said. "No one of us will see the sun go down this night."
El Sordo was thinking: It is shaped like a chancre. Or the breast of a young girl with no nipple. Or the top cone of a volcano. You have never seen a volcano, he thought. Nor will you ever see one. And this hill is like a chancre. Let the volcanos alone. It's late now for the volcanos.
He looked very carefully around the withers of the dead horse and there was a quick hammering of firing from behind a boulder well down the slope and he heard the bullets from the submachine gun thud into the horse. He crawled along behind the horse and looked out of the angle between the horse's hindquarters and the rock. There were three bodies on the slope just below him where they had fallen when the fascists had rushed the crest under cover of the automatic rifle and submachine gunfire and he and the others had broken down the attack by throwing and rolling down hand grenades. There were other bodies that he could not see on the other sides of the hill crest. There was no dead ground by which attackers could approach the summit and Sordo knew that as long as his ammunition and grenades held out and he had as many as four men they could not get him out of there unless they brought up a trench mortar. He did not know whether they had sent to La Granja for a trench mortar. Perhaps they had not, because surely, soon, the planes would come. It had been four hours since the observation plane had flown over them.
This hill is truly like a chancre, Sordo thought, and we are the very pus of it. But we killed many when they made that stupidness. How could they think that they would take us thus? They have such modern armament that they lose all their sense with overconfidence. He had killed the young officer who had led the assault with a grenade that had gone bouncing and rolling down the slope as they came up it, running, bent half over. In the yellow flash and gray roar of smoke he had seen the officer dive forward to where he lay now like a heavy, broken bundle of old clothing marking the farthest point that the assault had reached. Sordo looked at this body and then, down the hill, at the others.
They are brave but stupid people, he thought. But they have sense enough now not to attack us again until the planes come. Unless, of course, they have a mortar coming. It would be easy with a mortar. The mortar was the normal thing and he knew that they would die as soon as a mortar came up, but when he thought of the planes coming up he felt as naked on that hilltop as though all of his clothing and even his skin had been removed. There is no nakeder thing than I feel, he thought. A flayed rabbit is as well covered as a bear in comparison. But why should they bring planes? They could get us out of here with a trench mortar easily. They are proud of their planes, though, and they will probably bring them. Just as they were so proud of their automatic weapons that they made that stupidness. But undoubtedly they must have sent for a mortar too.
One of the men fired. Then jerked the bolt and fired again, quickly.
"Save thy cartridges," Sordo said.
"One of the sons of the great whore tried to reach that boulder," the man pointed.
"Did you hit him?" Sordo asked, turning his head with difficulty.
"Nay," the man said. "The fornicator cked back."
"Who is a whore of whores is Pilar," the man with his chin in the dirt said. "That whore knows we are dying here."
"She could do no good," Sordo said. The man had spoken on the side of his good ear and he had heard him without turning his head. "What could she do?"
"Take these sluts from the rear."
"_Qu?va_," Sordo said. "They are spread around a hillside. How would she come on them? There are a hundred and fifty of them. Maybe more now."
"But if we hold out until dark," Joaqu璯 said.
"And if Christmas comes on Easter," the man with his chin on the ground said.
"And if thy aunt had _cojones_ she would be thy uncle," another said to him. "Send for thy Pasionaria. She alone can help us."
"I do not believe that about the son," Joaqu璯 said. "Or if he is there he is training to be an aviator or something of that sort."
"He is hidden there for safety," the man told him.
"He is studying dialectics. Thy Pasionaria has been there. So have Lister and Modesto and others. The one with the rare name told me."
"That they should go to study and return to aid us," Joaqu璯 said.
"That they should aid us now," another man said. "That all the cruts of Russian sucking swindlers should aid us now." He fired and said, "_Me cago en tal_; I missed him again."
"Save thy cartridges and do not talk so much or thou wilt be very thirsty," Sordo said. "There is no water on this hill."
"Take this," the man said and rolling on his side he pulled a wineskin that he wore slung from his shoulder over his head and handed it to Sordo. "Wash thy mouth out, old one. Thou must have much thirst with thy wounds."
"Let all take it," Sordo said.
"Then I will have some first," the owner said and squirted a long stream into his mouth before he handed the leather bottle around.
"Sordo, when thinkest thou the planes will come?" the man with his chin in the dirt asked.
"Any time," said Sordo. "They should have come before."
"Do you think these sons of the great whore will attack again?"
"Only if the planes do not come."
He did not think there was any need to speak about the mortar. They would know it soon enough when the mortar came.
"God knows they've enough planes with what we saw yesterday."
"Too many," Sordo said.
His head hurt very much and his arm was stiffening so that the pain of moving it was almost unbearable. He looked up at the bright, high, blue early summer sky as he raised the leather wine bottle with his good arm. He was fifty-two years old and he was sure this was the last time he would see that sky.
He was not at all afraid of dying but he was angry at being trapped on this hill which was only utilizable as a place to die. If we could have gotten clear, he thought. If we could have made them come up the long valley or if we could have broken loose across the road it would have been all right. But this chancre of a hill. We must use it as well as we can and we have used it very well so far.
If he had known how many men in history have had to use a hill to die on it would not have cheered him any for, in the moment he was passing through, men are not impressed by what has happened to other men in similar circumstances any more than a widow of one day is helped by the knowledge that other loved husbands have died. Whether one has fear of it or not, one's death is difficult to accept. Sordo had accepted it but there was no sweetness in its acceptance even at fifty-two, with three wounds and him surrounded on a hill.
He joked about it to himself but he looked at the sky and at the far mountains and he swallowed the wine and he did not want it. If one must die, he thought, and clearly one must, I can die. But I hate it.
Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an earthen jar of water in the st of the threshing with the grain flailed out and the chaff blowing. Living was a horse between your legs and a carbine under one leg and a hill and a valley and a stream with trees along it and the far side of the valley and the hills beyond.

B. 求巴金的短篇小说，500~600字

《狗》
小时候我害怕狗。记得有一回在新年里，我到二伯父家去玩。在他那个花园内，一条大黑狗追赶我，跑过几块花圃。后来我上了洋楼，才躲过这一场灾难，没有让狗嘴咬坏我的腿。
以后见着狗，我总是逃，它也总是追，而且屡屡望着我的影子狺狺狂吠。我愈怕，狗愈凶。
怕狗成了我的一种病。
我渐渐地长大起来。有一天不知道因为什么，我忽然觉得怕狗是很可耻的事情。看见狗我便站住，不再逃避。
我站住，狗也就站住。它望着我狂吠，它张大嘴，它做出要扑过来的样子。但是它并不朝着我前进一步。
它用怒目看我，我便也用怒目看它。它始终保持着我和它中间的距离。
这样地过了一阵子，我便转身走了。狗立刻追上来。
我回过头。狗马上站住了。它望着我恶叫，却不敢朝我扑过来。
“你的本事不过这一点点，”我这样想着，觉得胆子更大了。我用轻蔑的眼光看它，我顿脚，我对它吐出骂语。
它后退两步，这次倒是它露出了害怕的表情。它仍然汪汪地叫，可是叫声却不像先前那样地“恶”了。
我讨厌这种纠缠不清的叫声。我在地上拾起一块石子，就对准狗打过去。
石子打在狗的身上，狗哀叫一声，似乎什么地方痛了。它马上掉转身子夹着尾巴就跑，并不等我的第二块石子落到它的头上。
我望着逃去了的狗影，轻蔑地冷笑两声。
从此狗碰到我的石子就逃。 —巴金
很高兴为你解答

C. 凡卡的故事梗概500字

『壹』 《凡卡》：概括段意和主要内容

主要内容是：

一个名叫凡卡的小男孩来到了城市里一个财主家里干活，在那里他受到了许多折磨，一天三餐几乎都是稀饭，夜晚还要摇老板儿子的摇篮，彻夜不能眠，要是老板的儿子哭了，那凡卡就又要被打了。

其他伙计也经常捉弄凡卡，导致他被老板毒打，在一个夜晚，凡卡趁着老板出去了，拿起了钢笔和纸张，给他的爷爷写信，信中描写了许多凡卡和爷爷在乡村里快乐的生活，最后，凡卡把信投进了邮筒，一个醉醺醺的邮差收走了。但是，这封信永远不会寄到爷爷手里，因为凡卡没有写地址。

第一段（1～2自然段）：写圣诞节前夜，凡卡趁老板去做礼拜的机会，偷偷地给爷爷写信。

第二段（3～6自然段）：写凡卡开始给爷爷写信，想象着爷爷替老爷守夜的情景。

第三段（7～14自然段）：讲凡卡在信上写自己如何挨打受折磨，请求爷爷接他回去，还写了莫斯科的情况并由圣诞树上的礼物想起爷爷带他去砍圣诞树的趣事。

第四段（15～19自然段）：写凡卡在信的结尾再次恳求爷爷带他回去。还讲了他认真写好信封，准备投寄的情形。

第五段（20～21自然段）：讲凡卡把信投进邮筒并做了个美丽的梦。

中心思想：

课文写了沙俄时代，一个从农村到城市做学徒的9岁儿童凡卡给爷爷写信的事，叙述了他的遭受了种种摧残，揭露了当时社会统治的黑暗，反映了沙俄时代穷人的悲惨命运，极其对幸福生活的向往和追求。

(1)凡卡的故事梗概500字扩展阅读：

《凡卡》是俄国作家契诃夫创作的短篇小说，写于1886年。文章按写信的过程记叙。开始叙述圣诞节前夜凡卡趁老板、老板娘和伙计们到教堂做礼拜的机会，偷偷地给爷爷写信。

接着，通过写信向慈祥的爷爷倾诉自己在鞋铺当学徒遭受的令人难以忍受的悲惨生活，再三哀求爷爷带他离开这儿，回到乡下去生活，并回忆了与爷爷在一起生活情景。

这篇小说通过凡卡给爷爷写信这件事，反映了沙皇统治下俄国社会中穷苦儿童的悲惨命运，揭露了当时社会制度的黑暗。《凡卡》已选入人教版六年级下册教材、北师大版五年级下册教材。

《凡卡》是契诃夫于1886年写的。当时沙皇统治的社会十分黑暗，无数破产了的农民被迫流入城市谋生，他们深受剥削，甚至连儿童也不能幸免。契诃夫家的小杂货店里有两个小学徒，就常受他父亲的虐待。他自小了解学徒生活，也同情小学徒的不幸命运。

为了把情节表现得真实感人，作者在艺术上进行了周密细致的构思，因为凡卡是一个才九岁的孩子，所以作者把书信和叙事互相穿插起来，使两者水乳交融，真切动人。

假如这篇小说完全采用书信体，凡卡的悲惨境况，他对家乡生活的怀念，以及他的希望，全部由他用信写出来，那么这封信就要写得很长，很有条理，这就令人难以相信，一个九岁的孩子会有这么大的本领。

何况他还没有条件享受正规的文化教养，只不过他的母亲在老爷家里做女仆时小姐没事做才教他读书写字，他现在才能拿起笔来给爷爷写信，而要这样一个小孩写出那种有条有理的信就更是不可能的了。

『贰』 凡卡故事梗概300字、快！！快！！

故事发生在十九世纪的俄国，这段时期是俄国历史上最黑暗的时期。圣诞节版的前夜，小凡卡权趁着老板夫妇和师傅们外出祷告的时候偷偷给爷爷写信。故事中的凡卡没有父母，唯一的亲人便是年迈的爷爷。由于生活的贫困小凡卡被爷爷送到城里的一个鞋匠家里当学徒。小凡卡在鞋匠家扮演着很多角色，他要干很多的话，各种类型的活；晚上帮着老板看孩子，白天帮老板家打杂，时不时地还要被伙计们呼来喊去。总之凡卡在这里受尽了折磨，折磨到凡卡写信请求爷爷将他带走，脱离苦海。
凡卡在信中讲述了自己所遭受的种种虐待，不时提起乡下幸福美好的生活。提心吊胆地将信写完，凡卡带着美好的心情进入梦乡。但遗憾的是，凡卡在最后没有写清楚收件人的地址，爷爷根本不可能收到信。而他自己还不知道这一点，心中只有美好的憧憬，在睡梦中还看到了爷爷和厨娘。[2]

『叁』 西游记中师徒四人经过的国度以及每个过度的故事梗概。

九岁的凡卡·茹科夫，三个月前给送到鞋匠阿里亚希涅那儿做学徒。圣诞节前夜，他没躺下睡觉。他等老板、老板娘和几个伙计到教堂做礼拜去了，就从老板的立柜里拿出一小瓶墨水，一支笔尖生了锈的钢笔，摩平一张揉皱了的白纸，写起信来。
在写第一个字以前，他担心地朝门口和窗户看了几眼，又斜着眼看了一下那个昏暗的神像，神像两边是两排架子，架子上摆满了楦头。他叹了一口气，跪在作台前边，把那张纸铺在作台上。
“亲爱的爷爷康司坦丁·玛卡里奇，”他写道，“我在给您写信。祝您过一个快乐的圣诞节，求上帝保佑您。我没爹没娘，只有您一个亲人了。”
凡卡朝黑糊糊的窗户看看，玻璃窗上映出蜡烛的模糊的影子；他想象着他爷爷康司坦丁·玛卡里奇，好像爷爷就在眼前。——爷爷是日发略维夫老爷家里的守夜人。他是个非常有趣的瘦小的老头儿，65岁，老是笑眯眯地眨着眼睛。白天，他总是在大厨房里睡觉。到晚上，他就穿上宽大的羊皮袄，敲着梆子，在别墅的周围走来走去。老母狗卡希旦卡和公狗泥鳅低着头跟在他后头。泥鳅是一条非常听话非常讨人喜欢的狗。它身子是黑的，像黄鼠狼那样长长的，所以叫它泥鳅。
现在，爷爷一定站在大门口，眯缝着眼睛看那乡村教堂的红亮的窗户。他一定在跺着穿着高筒毡靴的脚，他的梆子挂在腰带上，他冻得缩成一团，耸着肩膀……
天气真好，晴朗，一丝风也没有，干冷干冷的。那是个没有月亮的夜晚，可是整个村子——白房顶啦，烟囱里冒出来的一缕缕的烟啦，披着浓霜一身银白的树木啦，雪堆啦，全看得见。天空撒满了快活地眨着眼的星星，天河显得很清楚，仿佛为了过节，有人拿雪把它擦亮了似的……
凡卡叹了口气，蘸了蘸笔尖，接着写下去。
“昨天晚上我挨了一顿打，因为我给他们的小崽子摇摇篮的时候，不知不觉睡着了。老板揪着我的头发，把我拖到院子里，拿皮带揍了我一顿。这个礼拜，老板娘叫我收拾一条青鱼，我从尾巴上弄起，她就捞起那条青鱼，拿鱼嘴直戳我的脸。伙计们捉弄我，他们打发我上酒店去打酒，他们叫我偷老板的黄瓜，老板随手捞起个家伙就打我。吃的呢，简直没有。早晨吃一点儿面包，午饭是稀粥，晚上又是一点儿面包；至于菜啦，茶啦，只有老板自己才大吃大喝。他们叫我睡在过道里，他们的小崽子一哭，我就别想睡觉，只好摇那个摇篮。亲爱的爷爷，发发慈悲吧，带我离开这儿回家，回到我们村子里去吧！我再也受不住了！……我给您跪下了，我会永远为您祷告上帝。带我离开这儿吧，要不，我就要死了！……”
凡卡撇撇嘴，拿脏手背揉揉眼睛，抽噎了一下。
“我会替您搓烟叶，“他继续写道，“我会为您祷告上帝。要是我做错了事，您就结结实实地打我一顿好了。要是您怕我找不着活儿，我可以去求那位管家的，看在上帝面上，让我擦皮鞋；要不，我去求菲吉卡答应我帮他放羊。亲爱的爷爷，我再也受不住了，只有死路一条了！……我原想跑回我们村子去，可是我没有鞋，又怕冷。等我长大了，我会照应您，谁也不敢来欺负您。
“讲到莫斯科，这是个大城市，房子全是老爷们的，有很多马，没有羊，狗一点儿也不凶。圣诞节，这里的小孩子并不举着星星灯走来走去，教堂里的唱诗台不准人随便上去唱诗。有一回，我在一家铺子的橱窗里看见跟钓竿钓丝一块出卖的钓钩，能钓各种各样的鱼，很贵。有一种甚至约得起一普特重的大鲇鱼呢。我还看见有些铺子卖各种抢，跟我们老板的枪一样，我想一杆枪要卖一百个卢布吧。肉店里有山鹬啊，鹧鸪啊，野兔啊……可是那些东西哪儿打来的，店里的伙计不肯说。
“亲爱的爷爷，老爷在圣诞树上挂上糖果的时候，请您摘一颗金胡桃，藏在我的绿匣子里头。”
凡卡伤心地叹口气，又呆呆地望着窗口。他想起到树林里去砍圣诞树的总是爷爷，爷爷总是带着他去。多么快乐的日子呀！冻了的山林喳喳地响，爷爷冷得吭吭地咳，他也跟着吭吭地咳……要砍圣诞树了，爷爷先抽一斗烟，再吸一阵子鼻烟，还跟冻僵的小凡卡逗笑一会儿。……许多小枞树披着浓霜，一动不动地站在那儿，等着看哪一棵该死。忽然不知从什么地方跳出一只野兔来，箭一样地窜过雪堆。爷爷不由得叫起来，“逮住它，逮住它，逮住它！嘿，短尾巴鬼！”
爷爷把砍下来的树拖回老爷家里，大家就动手打扮那棵树。
“快来吧，亲爱的爷爷，”凡卡接着写道，“我求您看在基督的面上，带我离开这儿。可怜可怜我这个不幸的孤儿吧。这儿的人都打我。我饿得要命，又孤零零的，难受得没法说。我老是哭。有一天，老板拿楦头打我的脑袋，我昏倒了，好容易才醒过来。我的生活没有指望了，连狗都不如！……我问候阿辽娜，问候独眼的艾果尔，问候马车夫。别让旁人拿我的小风琴。您的孙子伊凡·茹科夫。亲爱的爷爷，来吧！”
凡卡把那张写满字的纸折成四折，装进一个信封里，那个信封是前一天晚上花一个戈比买的。他想了一想，蘸一蘸墨水，写上地址。
“乡下 爷爷收”
然后他抓抓脑袋，再想一想，添上几个字。
“康司坦丁·玛卡里奇”
他很满意没人打搅他写信，就戴上帽子，连破皮袄都没披，只穿着衬衫，跑到街上去了……前一天晚上他问过肉店的伙计，伙计告诉他，信应该丢在邮筒里，从那儿用邮车分送到各地去。邮车上还套着三匹马，响着铃铛，坐着醉醺醺的邮差。凡卡跑到第一个邮筒那儿，把他那宝贵的信塞了进去。
过了一个钟头，他怀着甜蜜的希望睡熟了。他在梦里看见一铺暖炕，炕上坐着他的爷爷，搭拉着两条腿，正在念他的信……泥鳅在炕边走来走去，摇着尾巴……
可是梦毕竟是要醒的。圣诞节的大街上，偶尔会穿过一辆马车，那是贵族家的少爷小姐们去卖礼物，或是到贵族学校去聚会吧。一辆马车缓缓朝店门口驶来，那匹马不像市长大人家的马车那样，凡卡见过市长大人家的马。那是前年，沙皇路过这座城市，冬天里，人们大部分还穿不暖衣服，可在警察的胁迫下，不得不光着脚板拿着发给的花束和彩带到街上去，去在寒风刺骨中欢迎他们伟大的沙皇。
沙皇和皇后穿着从西伯利亚猎来的北极熊做成的绒袍，皇后脖颈上还围着用北极狐的皮毛做成的围脖。老卡加的店里卖的围巾于这个比起来可是差远了，不过他还是捋捋自己满是油污且皱皱褶褶的衬衣领子，硬是把第二个扣子及到第一个扣眼里——第一个扣子实在和小琳娜她妈吵架的时候被撕掉的——然后他用沾满钞票味的手抹了抹自己的脸。他不明白沙皇和皇后为什么这么早来，害的他早起未洗脸就得起来迎接。不过老卡家还是挺激动的，因为那毕竟是沙皇呀，他特希望沙皇或是皇后能看他一眼，就像希望城里人都到他店里来买东西那样渴望。
对了，该说说市长大人的马了，它紧紧跟着沙皇坐的福特轿车——俄国尽管有工厂，可造的轿车就是不如美国的好，有人说皇后带的首饰就是用造轿车的钱买来的——那是一匹白马，浑身上下都是肉——凡卡不知道“丰满“这个词，所以只能用这个句子来形容——它身上的毛白的像雪，相凡卡家乡的雪，鬃毛和尾毛大概是马浮早上刚刷的吧，被风一吹，从那马身上飘来阵阵熟悉的香味，哦，那是老板娘用的洗发水的味道——她经常说那洗发水是最好的最贵的，至少在城里是这样的，不知她闻见马身上的味道会怎么说——在马那顿涅茨的草原一样宽广的肚皮上，从上到下都为着中国产的丝绸——这是他从一个进过圆明园的英国上尉那里高价买来的——而这都是为的是它的马显得更高贵，更有身份，可是他大可不必，因为这城里有多少人有马呢？
凡卡伺候的老板家恰好有一匹，它不如市长大人家的马肥，也不如那马香，更不如那马高贵，可老板认为他的马还是不错的，就像他的人品一样。那匹瘦骨嶙峋的马，用它那像凡卡的爷爷拐杖一样的腿把老板坐的车拉到了店门口。
凡卡醒了，他醒的很及时，因为老板回来了。他透过窗子看到那马的尾巴——尾巴是这马最显眼的位置，正所谓“马瘦毛长”——被编成了一条美丽的花辫子，还夹着一条彩绳。这当然是对花辫子的形容，可是如果这花辫子是马尾巴，而且是老板家马的尾巴，那就大事不妙了。这就像邻家小琳娜妈妈那小山似的身体穿上紧身衣，就是芭蕾舞演员穿的那种，那是什么样子就可想而知了。可门前这马就是这样，但以老板的审美观来看——他经常把老板娘比作蒙娜丽莎——是非常好看的。那尾巴是老板为了在圣诞前夜去教堂做礼拜而特地占用他平常点钱的时间亲手编的。因为他认为，虽然自己的店小了一点，虽然自己的马差了一点，但为了面子还是要尽力呀，就譬如说把马尾巴编成花辫子，这样就可以在老爷太太们面前夸耀了——不过如果让没上过多少学的凡卡听见老板以自己的马的尾巴发表的演讲（其实是在那些少有修养的人眼里，那其实是一篇错别字连篇但又可以得奖的大笑话），凡卡会认为那比谈论猪屁股还恶心。
老板蠕动着自己的身体——他平时不是这样蠕动，而是扭动——走过来走进店里。终于凡卡知道为什么老板会这样异常，当店门被推开时，一股烈性伏尔加的味道扑面而来，老板摇摇晃晃差点倒在凡卡身上，可是看来卧室对他的吸引力更大些，一个身影就这样扑通一声倒了下去，到在床上。这时门又开了，是老板娘，一股龙舌兰的味道扑面而来，她也差点到在凡卡身上，可最后她还是倒在了床上。就这样，一阵脚步声后，店里又恢复了寂静。凡卡在一阵提心吊胆之后也又平静下来，本该在这时忙着擦地的他现在这坐着不动，这若在平常可是找死的呀。
现在，凡卡心想，自己坐着也没事了，又没人知道，而这地板擦不擦都一个样。他渐渐放松起来，又想起给爷爷的那封信了。正当凡卡倚着台子想爷爷时，一双眼睛盯上了凡卡，这双眼睛的主人不算是成人，可他却以一颗成人的心想着一件罪恶的事。
伙计也回来了，他本想把老爷太太附近屋里，可没成想他们比兔子还快，根本不用伙计扶，自己就像苹果落地似的朝着床走了过去。看老板和老板娘都走了，睡觉去了，伙计自己也深感疲乏，昨天在第三大街弗拉基米尔家的聚会真是闹腾极了，现在一想起来就头疼，所以伙计决定自己还是去睡觉吧。正当他把马安顿好，从后门进屋准备去睡觉时，他从过道里却看见一个人，那是凡卡。尽管同样是从异乡来的，同样都还不是大人，可伙计却对凡卡没有一点好印象。因为在他那颗虽然只有十六七岁的心上，却已生出许多心眼，这使他提前成了一个虚伪，充满欺诈与嫉妒的人。伙计不允许店里出老板及其家人以外有任何人敢违抗他，凡卡就这样成了他暴政下一个不受欢迎的人。是的，作为学徒的凡卡尽管不被老板喜欢，可他的聪明与灵巧却让伙计耿耿于怀。伙计一直把凡卡当作眼中钉肉中刺，生怕凡卡哪一天取代了他的位置。这也就是伙计心里生成罪恶计划的原因——他想除掉竞争对手。
老板和老板娘虽然喝多了，可毕竟还好好的，他们到下午就醒了过来。当老板从房里出来，伸伸胳膊，抽抽裤腰然后又打个哈嘁，最后终于清醒过来后，发现店里和往常没有什么两样，便去点钱了，而老板娘则不像老板那样有那么多坏毛病，刚从床上起来便一溜烟冲出店门，出去了。凡卡呢？他正擦地板呢，来回来去的脚步声并没有扰乱他的心，他心中依然想着爷爷。
伙计终于开始他的计划了。老板点钱时的神情专注的很，就是此时此刻天塌下来也不能使他挪挪地方。伙计进来了，他是来帮忙记账的。于是，钞票过手的声音与笔尖滑动的声音此起彼伏。老板果然是老手，他的工作尤其是与钱有关的，绝对是速度加质量。老板靠在椅子上，发现今天伙计干活认真许多，还为自己沏好了茶。这小子今天不错呀，老板心想，于是对伙计说，你今天和我们一起来吃饭吧，随后自己便出去了。而伙计呢，也正暗自心喜，他终于获得一个想老板和老板娘进言的机会了。
毕竟是圣诞节，老板似乎也松了许多。只要凡卡不停的干活，老伴也就不搭理他，也就不像以往那样鸡蛋里头挑骨头了。这使凡卡轻松许多，他虽然坐了不少事，但对于平常来说，这实在是太轻松了。终于熬到晚上了，凡卡不盼着老板价会给他什么好吃的，不过睡觉时就可以梦见爷爷了。他依然对它的信充满希望。凡卡喝着稀粥，啃着面包，而在里过道不远的餐厅里，老板，老板娘还有伙计正大鱼大肉的吃呢。就在这当儿，伙计开口了，把他看见凡卡偷懒不干活再加上许多醋啊油啊，一块儿回了一锅，给了老板和老板娘。后果可想而知，老板和老板娘哪里还吃饭呀，火气顿时冲天，老板娘会屋去拿鞭子，而老板更是从桌子上抄起一把叉子就冲了出去。伙计自然很高兴，只挽挽袖子便跟了出去，因为他并不想一下之凡卡于死地。
在昏暗的灯光下，凡卡因为身上正挨着鞭打而嚎叫，而他心中却纳闷为什么当时醉醺醺的老板和老板娘会知道他偷懒，而他决没想到会是伙计告的密。老板一边抽打着一边穿着粗气，还骂凡卡：“叫你个狗崽子偷懒，不干活，还敢偷面包，真是反了你了。”对于偷懒凡卡无法否认，但哪来的偷面包，凡卡真是觉得自己冤枉。他忍住疼，说：“老—老板，我—没有偷—偷面包。”老板一听，停下手中的鞭子，“真的没偷？““真的。就是您给我是个胆子我也不敢偷面包去呀。”老板听后，气喘的越来越粗了，凡卡以为老板累了，可老板突然挥起手臂，照着凡卡腿上就是一下，凡卡开始还以为是给了他一拳，没想到一拳下去，凡卡感到揪心的疼，鲜血一下子沁透了凡卡的单裤。原来老板把叉子刺进了凡卡的肉里，“真是反了，还敢狡辩......"老板有点累了，他也不管凡卡的伤口，对伙计说：“把他关进马棚里。”伙计假装关心凡卡的样子，说：“老板，你看，凡卡这个样子，外面有这么冷，您看......""叫你怎么办，你就怎么办！”老板依旧很生气但也很累，于是就回屋去了。
老板走了，伙计回过头来看凡卡，好像昏过去了，看着凡卡鲜血淋淋的腿，伙计露出一丝*笑。心想：凡卡再见了，谁叫你这么倒霉呢？说完，他拖着凡卡，走了。并不是走去马棚的后门，而是去前门，去大街上。
伙计是这样打算的，凡卡身上有伤，外面又这么冷，把他仍到外面去，也活不成了。要是老板过问起来，就说他逃走了，自己冻死在大街上了。于是凡卡被伙计扔在几个街区外的一个垃圾箱旁。看着凡卡虚弱的身影，伙计又笑了，他没想到他的计划这么快就成功了。
而凡卡，他只有九岁的生命正一步步地走向死神。在他颤抖的小嘴中，吐露着两个字——爷爷。
天渐渐亮了，凡卡也慢慢地睁开了他那疲倦的双眼。可他还不知道，老板和老板娘已经全副武装地等他醒来呢。凡卡一睁开双眼，老板便怒气冲冲地对凡卡吼道：“小子！你竟敢偷懒不做工了！想造反吗？今天我非抽死你不可！”
老板这边开始“地震”了，老板娘那边的“火山”也爆发了。这一对恶夫妇一齐上前打那毫无抵抗能力的凡卡，直到把他打得遍体鳞伤，皮开肉绽为止方才罢休。
被打后的凡卡心里非常悲愤，他想：“我不能在这里再呆下去了，爷爷可能一时半刻还收不到我的信，我只能靠自己的力量回村子里去了……好！明天晚上就走！”
第二天晚上，凡卡做完工，他看店里的老板、老板娘、伙计熟睡以后，悄悄地拿了店里一双鞋，赶紧逃出了莫斯科。
他走了整整三天，离村子已经不远了，可他又冷又饿，在离村子还有一公里的地方，他终于倒下了。
说来也巧，这时泥鳅刚好出来觅食，它看见了阔别已久的小主人，马上把他拖回了家里，让爷爷照料小凡卡，想让小主人快点好起来。
凡卡回到了自己的家，心里激动不已，因为，他又可以和爷爷在一起生活了。
过了两个钟头，凡卡醒了，老板和老板粮怒气冲冲地看着他，老板操着一根木棒就打起来，打得凡卡皮开肉绽，嘴里还不住地骂着：“你吃了熊心豹子胆了，竟然在睡觉。不错啊，知道偷懒了，敢戏弄我了，开始学坏了啊。”老板的声音提高了八度。
顿时，老板娘的“火山”也喷发了，揪着凡卡的头发，拿皮带揍着骨瘦如柴、弱不禁风的凡卡，凡卡昏倒了。
他好不容易才醒过来，拿脏手背揉揉伤口，伤口像刀割了一样。凡卡伤心地哭了，哭得那么伤心，就是石头也会被他感动的。
他的眼泪哭干了，他决心逃出去。他快速地奔出店门，直往村子赶。正当他跑到离村子不远的地方时，忽然，看见一张非常面熟凶神恶煞的脸。啊！是老板！老板揪着他的头发回到店里，把弱小的凡卡绑在一根树枝上使劲地抽打，凡卡怎么忍受得了如此的虐待呢？他的眼睛模糊了，泪水涌了出来，哭得那么伤心，哭得那么悲痛。这时，他眼前一黑，什么也看不见，只看见爷爷——康司坦丁·玛卡里奇带着公狗泥鳅和老母狗卡希旦卡来救他了，爷爷一纸诉状将阿里亚希涅告上法庭，阿里亚希涅这个恶魔被当场绞死，让被他欺凌的人来找他报仇……
凡卡多么希望回到爷爷的身边，他盼啊，吩啊……
“砰——”老板把门踢开，看到凡卡躲在一个角落里，正在睡觉，顿时火冒三丈，拿起一桶水往凡卡身上泼。凡卡睁开蒙朦胧胧的睡眼，他还以为是爷爷来接他来了，便大叫道：“爷爷！”“爷爷？谁是你爷爷，臭小子！趁我出门，到睡起觉来了，翅膀长硬了是吧，想飞出去了！老子今天非好好教训教训你！”凡卡这才知道，是狠毒的老板回来了。老板大喝：“伙计，拿我的皮带来。今天我真得好好教训这臭小子！”伙计们立刻呈上一条硬硬的皮带，老板双手紧紧捏住这条皮带，眼睛里充满了愤怒，他一步一步地向凡卡走来，凡卡的危险也将一步一步地逼近。凶神恶煞的老板一把将小凡卡按倒在地，剥下了他的裤子，用皮带狠狠地抽凡卡的屁股。凡卡一阵剧痛，但他没有哭，因为他知道，一旦他哭起来，老板下手会更重的，一旁的伙计非但不来帮帮凡卡，还嘲笑可怜的小凡卡：“瞧他那样儿，真是乡巴佬，不知天高地厚！”
接着，凡卡还得忍着被皮带鞭打的剧烈疼痛，又干起活来：擦地板、擦玻璃、收拾青鱼……身子本来就虚的凡卡哪儿经得住这番折腾，差一点儿，凡卡就累得趴下去了……
到吃午饭的时候了，凡卡揉了揉被老板用皮带鞭打的屁股，捶了捶累得发疼的腰，端起一碗稀得见低的粥，咕咚咕咚直往喉咙里倒。而老板和老板娘呢！则在客厅里大吃大喝，餐桌上的丰盛的午餐，香气四溢，一看就让人流口水。看，就连老板养的狗都吃上了香喷喷的大鲇鱼呢！凡卡看看老板那儿，又瞧瞧自己的午餐：那碗一口就能喝得精光的粥，不由得叹了一口气。他又回想起了以前在乡下和爷爷一起度过的美好时光……
“臭小子，吃完饭还楞着，是不是想找打，死性不改！还不给我去干活！”怒气冲冲的老板破口大骂，又一次扬起了皮带……
凡卡又忙碌起来了，他不断地想：爷爷，你怎么还不来接我？
夜幕降临了，凡卡摸了摸饿得饥肠辘辘的肚子，寒颤颤地望着窗外纷纷扬扬的大雪出神。
“哇，哇，哇……”小崽子的哭声使凡卡清醒过来，老板闻声而来：“你这臭小子，偷懒是吧！把我的小崽子弄哭了，高兴了是吧！”“没有，没有……”老板不容小凡卡分辨，如同疯狗似的，用皮带无情地拍打在凡卡虚弱的身体上。
再一次被狠心的老板毒打，使凡卡清楚地知道，自己不能再呆在鞋匠铺里受苦了，要不，总有一天，会被老板打死的！他想到了逃！他毅然起身，冲进了茫茫大雪之中。
寒风呼呼地刮着，大街上的人都裹着厚厚的棉袄，而凡卡呢，穿着一件单薄，有5、6个补丁的破衣裳；裤子呢，只有半条。因为，老板觉得凡卡有时太不听话了，打他也不能消气，便叫他心爱的狗来扯凡卡的裤子，久而久之，凡卡的裤子就被扯得只剩下半条了；凡卡没有袜子、鞋子，他只能赤着一双被大雪冻得通红的脚走在冷冰冰的大街上。时不时，凡卡还得紧一紧腰带……
突然，凡卡对面飞来一辆马车，凡卡没注意，顿时倒在了血泊之中。“吁——”马车停了下来。原来是喝得醉醺醺的邮差驾着马车撞到了凡卡，邮差非但不下马车救凡卡，而是轻蔑地对凡卡说：“穷小子，撞死活该！写封信——不贴邮票，不写收信人地址，谁给你寄！”说完，便用手一撕，再一撕，再撕，再撕……手一扬，风一吹，凡卡给爷爷写的信变成千万只蝴蝶，漫天飞舞……凡卡用剩下的最后一口气，轻轻地叫了一声：“爷——爷……”用剩下的最后一点力气，捡了一张碎片，放在胸前，慢慢地死去了……
太阳升起来了，柔和的阳光照在凡卡瘦小的身子上，他嘴唇发白，嘴角却挂着一丝微笑：他可能在想，爷爷一定会来接他脱离苦海的……

D. 关于马克 ' 吐温的短篇小说《百万英镑》的故事概括！500字以上

故事发生在上世纪初的英国。一对富豪兄弟用一张面值百万英镑的现钞打赌，看这张钞票究竟会给人带来无尽的财富还是只是一张一文不值的“小纸片”。 很快，从美国来的亚当进入了富豪兄弟的视线。这个人的船在海上触礁沉没，他靠给其他船只做工来抵押船票才到了英国。现在他身无分文、饥饿难忍，这样一个穷人是再适合不过的人选了。于是亚当被请进了富豪家中。 富豪兄弟给了亚当百万钞票，并和他约定在一个月的时间里，亚当可以任意使用。但一个月后他必须把钞票原样不动地还给富豪，这样他可以得到富豪们为他提供的任何一份他想从事的工作。亚当糊里糊涂地接受了约定。 亚当无论去吃饭、购买服装都会因衣衫褴褛遭到人们的白眼。但当他拿出这张钞票时，人们不但向他大献殷勤，甚至连相关的费用都可以减免，因为在他们看来亚当是富豪，而且根本没有人可以给一张百万面值的钞票找零。 很快报纸上刊登出美国一位有着着装怪癖的百万富翁光临英国的消息，一时间亚当成为上流社会的焦点，无论是公爵、富商都以和亚当交际为荣，年轻姑娘们更是为了吸引亚当的注意而彼此间争风吃醋，亚当成为英国尽人皆知的人物。 但很快亚当陷入困境中。先是他欠下的债越来越多，之后饭店服务员和他开玩笑，将百万钞票藏了起来，瞬间股市大跌，人们相传亚当是骗子，要债的人挤满了整个饭店…… 好在一个月的期限终于到了，亚当如释重负地将钞票还给了富豪兄弟。但亚当并没有接受他们为他安排工作，因为经历了大起大落，亚当早已厌倦了人们对金钱的追逐。尽管失去了金钱，但他却得到了许多。

E. 欧亨利短篇小说读后感500字

【第1篇】

每次读完他的小说，眼前总会浮现出一双深邃的眼睛，紧盯桌子上的稿件，行书如行云流水一般，笔锋一转，画龙点睛。戛然而止，他捧起稿件，轻轻地读，微微笑出声来，————他便是“美国的莫泊桑”欧亨利。

1862年1月11日美国北卡罗来纳州一个小镇上，一个婴儿“呱呱”地哭着出生。“是个男孩！”他的医生父亲兴奋地在旁搓着手，走过去安慰脸色苍白而洋溢着快乐的妻子，——威廉?西德尼?波特诞生了，他便是未来的欧亨利。

身体虚弱的母亲没能给他太多的母爱，便在他幼年时撒手人寰，次后他便与父兄移居祖母和姑妈家。姑妈激发了幼小的他对文学的兴趣，父亲传授他医学知识，他很快在亲人的关爱中长大，并在19岁获得药剂师搜氏的行业执照。

20岁，他移居到西部，感受到西部的风土人情，在他的记忆和小说里刻下重重的一笔。22岁后他因工作交替而奔波7年,终于当上银行出纳员，有了妻子和孩简漏汪子。好景不长，仅仅三年后，他便被法院离奇传讯。次年，他潜入拉丁美洲避难。可两年后，因妻子病重便回到妻子身边并受到传讯。妻子死后，他离开孩子，进入监狱，并在医务室工作。

工作之余，他开始写短篇小说贴补孩子生活费用。期间，他使用笔名欧?亨利，从此，欧?亨利这颗新星冉冉升起，在文学的夜幕中划出了一道璀璨的星痕！

【第2篇】

欧亨利这位小说家我早有耳闻，假期一直在拜读他的作品。

他的作品耐人寻味，只有细细品读，才能体会到作者的情感。并且一些常常被人遗忘的词语中其实暗藏着作品对其的深刻的评价，虽然我水平有限但是仍然能丛中窥其一二，作品可以说是一个作家的思想结晶，这一点在他的身上得到了集中的体现，他一生所著的作品虽然称不上很多。但却都可以称的上是精华之物。

每一篇短的文章中，都蕴含着一个道理，人与人的精神层面不同，对其文章的理解更是不同。每一次的阅读，都会让你感受颇深，明白颇多。

《麦琪的礼物》是欧·亨利写的一篇有趣的文章。它主要讲述了圣诞节的前一天，住在公寓里的贫穷的德拉想给丈夫吉姆一个惊喜，可是她只有一元八角七，她知道这点钱根本不够买什么好的礼物，于是她把引以自豪的褐色瀑布似的秀发剪下来，卖了，换来了20美元。找遍了各家商店，德拉花去21美元，终于买到一条朴素的白金表链，这可以配上吉姆的那块金表。而吉姆也想给老婆一个惊喜，他同样卖掉了引以自豪的金表，买了德拉羡慕渴望已久的全套漂亮的梳子作圣诞礼物。

看似戏剧性的结果，但却让我明白的许多，他们两各自牺牲自己的心爱之物，为的是博取另一半的欢心。两个人彼此深爱，可以放弃一切。而他们做这些事的时候，都是为了对方拦仔着想，根本没有考虑自己。正是因为他们互相爱着，而且是深深地爱着对方，才会有这样有趣的结局。读完这篇文章，我懂得了我们要去关爱别人，这样别人才会爱我们，正是有了爱，人与人之间才会相互理解，人与人之间才有温情。

F. 求一篇500字左右的英文短篇小说 关于生命与死亡主题的

My Brother’s Suicide Is Helping Save Lives

住在美国阿肯色州的妮基18岁，之前从没有听别人谈论过自杀这回事。但当这事发生在自己家人身上时，她觉得不能再沉默了。
My little brother, Tyler, and I were extremely close growing up. We’d make up top-secret handshakes after watching our favorite show. We spent hours talking about music: I play the clarinet[单簧管], and Ty was a true band geek[怪胎] whose trumpet[小号] was never far out of his reach. Sure, we bickered[斗嘴] over stupid stuff—it drove me crazy when he’d leave up the toilet seat in the bathroom! But we told each other everything. Or so I’d thought.
我和弟弟泰勒自幼就非常亲近。我们会在看完最喜欢的节目后来个秘密握手;我们会花很长时间讨论音乐：我吹奏单簧管，泰则是一个不折不扣的乐队怪胎，小号从不离手。当然，我们也会为一些无聊小事争吵——每次他在浴室上完厕所却没有把厕所板放下我就抓狂!然而我们无话不说——或者我原以为是这样吧。
Dazed [茫然的] and Confused
茫然与困惑
There was nothing particularly memorable about the cold midwinter Arkansas day when Ty killed himself. Ty, 14, got home from band practice and did the usual: cheerfully greeted everyone, then went straight to his room to practice his trumpet. Once dinner was ready, he joined my mom, my dad, and me to eat barbecued[烤肉] chicken while watching TV. I noticed then that Ty wasn’t talking much—typically[通常] he and my dad joked around the whole time. But it didn’t seem like anything was wrong, and after taking out the trash, Ty went back to his room. I had no idea it would be the last time I’d see him.
泰自杀的那个仲冬天，寒冷的阿肯色一切如常，没有发生什么印象特别深刻的事情。14岁的泰参加完乐队训练后回到家，像平常那样高兴地向各人问好，然后径直走回自己房间练习小号。晚餐准备好后，他跟爸爸妈妈和我一边吃烤鸡，一边看电视。我发现泰没怎么说话——通常他和爸爸会不停地开玩笑。但没什么不对劲儿的。倒完垃圾后，泰回到自己的房间。我没想到这是我最后一次见他。
It was nearly 8 o’ clock when I heard what sounded like glass breaking coming from Ty’s room. My dad went to find out what happened, then my mom checked too before dragging[拖，拉] me into their bedroom. “What’s going on?” I asked. She was crying so hard, she couldn’t answer. Then my dad showed up with all of our shoes and coats and screamed, “He’s still got a pulse[脉搏]. We’re going to the emergency room[急救室]!”
差不多8点的时候，我听见泰的房间里传出类似玻璃破碎的声音。爸爸过去看看发生什么事。妈妈也去查看了，之后她把我拉到他们房间。“发生什么事了?”我问。她哭得很厉害，根本无法作答。爸爸随后拿着我们的鞋子和外套出现了，他叫道：“他还有脉搏。我们要去急救室!”
“Oh, my God, I don’t get it! What happened?” I yelled. But no one answered me. All of a sudden, an ambulance[救护车] was at my house, and we got into the car and sped off behind it. When we arrived at the hospital, Mom and I were put in a private room while my dad checked on Ty. “What’s going on?!” I asked again. Mom was hyperventilating[强力呼吸], but she was able to catch her breath enough to say, “Ty tried to kill himself.”
“噢，我的天啊，我不明白!发生什么事了?”我叫道。但没有人回答我。突然，一辆救护车来到我家。我们也上了车，驱车紧跟其后。到达医院后，妈妈和我被安排在一个单间，爸爸则去查看泰的情况。“到底怎么回事?!”我再次问到。妈妈竭力地呼吸，但终于能够缓过气说话：“泰试图自杀。”
I was in total denial[否认]. “That’s not funny!” I yelled. Then my dad returned, looked at my mom, and shook his head as if to say, “Ty didn’t make it.” My mom passed out[昏倒]. I didn’t have any emotion. I wasn’t even crying. NOTHING made sense[有意义].
我一点也不相信。“开什么玩笑!”我叫道。爸爸回来了。他看着妈妈摇了摇头，仿佛在说：“泰没活过来。”妈妈晕倒了。我一点感觉也没有，甚至没有哭。一切都显得毫无意义。
Feeling Lost
怅然若失
After Ty shot himself, my family alternated[交替，轮流] between tears and silence, barely leaving the house. I didn’t go to school for more than four months. I just couldn’t understand why he’d done it—he’d never said that anything was wrong, and it wasn’t until after Ty died that his friend told us that my brother had confessed[承认，坦白] to having thoughts of suicide[自杀]. I went to therapy[治疗], but I didn’t like talking to a stranger. Thankfully my best friend was always there for me, but she never pushed me to share my feelings.
泰开枪自杀后，我们一家总是在眼泪和沉默之间徘徊，几乎没有离开过房子。我有四个多月没去上学。我实在不明白他为什么要这样做——他从未说过有什么问题。泰死后，他的朋友才告诉我们泰曾经承认有自杀的念头。我接受过治疗，但始终不喜欢跟陌生人说话。幸好我最好的朋友一直在我左右，不过她从来不会强迫我说出自己的感觉。
When I returned to school, I was surprised that most people treated me normally. That helped because I wanted to act as if it hadn’t happened. But just because nobody mentioned the word suicide didn’t make it disappear. I felt so alone with my feelings, and I didn’t really have anyone I could turn to who had real experience with suicide.
重返学校后，我很惊讶地发现大多数人像平常那样对我。那很有用，因为我希望一切如常，好像那件事没有发生过。虽然没有人提“自杀”这个词，但并不代表它就消失了。我感到很孤独，也找不到谁有过涉及自杀的真实经历可以帮我。
The following spring, I had to do a project for a community-service class, and I realized my topic should be suicide awareness[意识]. I thought if more people talked about it, maybe it wouldn’t happen to another teen. I called the Arkansas Crisis Center, the group who’d spoken to kids at my brother’s school right after his death. I told them I wanted to raise awareness and keep my brother’s memory alive, and when I asked if I could help organize a walkathon注, they said yes! I was so comforted when I saw hundreds of people show up to support my family and other survivors who’d lost loved ones to suicide—I knew then that I wasn’t alone.
第二年春天，我要为社会服务课做一个方案，我意识到应该以“自杀意识”为主题。我想如果多些人讨论它，也许自杀就不会发生在其他青少年身上。我打电话给阿肯色危机中心，也就是在我弟弟死后到他学校跟孩子们交谈的团体。我对他们说我希望提高人们对自杀的关注，并希望大家记住我弟弟。当我问能否帮忙组织一场步行马拉松时，他们说可以!看到数以百计的人到来支持我们家，看到那些因自杀而失去至爱的人，我倍感欣慰——我知道自己并不是孤身作战。
Shedding Some Light
一点希望
Being open about suicide rather than treating it like a secret felt so incredible that I started to speak at school assemblies[集会]. Sharing Ty’s story is helping me heal, and so far I’ve had two people confess that they had thoughts of suicide. I directed them to help right away. It is so amazing to know that another family wouldn’t have to go through what mine did. If Ty were here, I think he’d be really proud of me and happy to know his life is having such a positive[积极的] effect on others.
坦然面对自杀，而不是将它当作一个秘密，这感觉真好。所以我开始在学校的集会上发言。分享泰的故事帮助我治愈(创伤)。至今已经有两个人向我坦白说他们想过自杀。我马上指引他们接受帮助。知道另一个家庭不用经历我们所经历的一切，真是太好了。如果泰还在，我想他会为我感到十分自豪，也一定会为自己的生命给别人带来积极的影响而高兴。
伸出援手
如果你认识的人想不开，你可以试试以下方法：
发现自杀信号。留意情绪是否有变化——你的朋友已经有两个星期表现得很沮丧;平时喜欢做的事情现在都不做了;情绪起伏不定;或者突然离群独居。
告诉其他人。不要把自杀当成秘密。如果你的朋友承认曾经伤害自己，你要告诉家长或老师——即使他/她要你发誓保密。你或许可以挽救一个生命!
听取意见。你可以咨询当地的防止自杀组织，听取他们的意见。
注：尤指在美国和加拿大为特定事业筹款而进行的步行马拉松。

记得采纳，亲

G. 求一篇短篇小说（英文的，字数500-1000词）

Many artists lived in the Greenwich Village area of New York. Two young women named Sue and Johnsy shared a studio apartment at the top of a three-story building. Johnsy's real name was Joanna. In November, a cold, unseen stranger came to visit the city. This disease, pneumonia, killed many people. Johnsy lay on her bed, hardly moving. She looked through the small window. She could see the side of the brick house next to her building. One morning, a doctor examined Johnsy and took her temperature. Then he spoke with Sue in another room. "She has one chance in -- let us say ten," he said. "And that chance is for her to want to live. Your friend has made up her mind that she is not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?" "She -- she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples in Italy some day," said Sue. "Paint?" said the doctor. "Bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice -- a man for example?" "A man?" said Sue. "Is a man worth -- but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind." "I will do all that science can do," said the doctor. "But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages at her funeral, I take away fifty percent from the curative power of medicines." After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom and cried. Then she went to Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime. Johnsy lay with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep. She began making a pen and ink drawing for a story in a magazine. Young artists must work their way to "Art" by making pictures for magazine stories. Sue heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside. Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting -- counting backward. "Twelve," she said, and a little later "eleven"; and then "ten" and "nine;" and then "eight" and "seven," almost together. Sue looked out the window. What was there to count? There was only an empty yard and the blank side of the house seven meters away. An old ivy vine, going bad at the roots, climbed half way up the wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken leaves from the plant until its branches, almost bare, hung on the bricks. "What is it, dear?" asked Sue. "Six," said Johnsy, quietly. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head hurt to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now." "Five what, dear?" asked Sue. "Leaves. On the plant. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?" "Oh, I never heard of such a thing," said Sue. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine. Don't be silly. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were -- let's see exactly what he said ¨C he said the chances were ten to one! Try to eat some soup now. And, let me go back to my drawing, so I can sell it to the magazine and buy food and wine for us." "You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another one. No, I don't want any soup. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too." "Johnsy, dear," said Sue, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by tomorrow." "Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes and lying white and still as a fallen statue. "I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves." "Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Mister Behrman up to be my model for my drawing of an old miner. Don't try to move until I come back." Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the apartment building. Behrman was a failure in art. For years, he had always been planning to paint a work of art, but had never yet begun it. He earned a little money by serving as a model to artists who could not pay for a professional model. He was a fierce, little, old man who protected the two young women in the studio apartment above him. Sue found Behrman in his room. In one area was a blank canvas that had been waiting twenty-five years for the first line of paint. Sue told him about Johnsy and how she feared that her friend would float away like a leaf. Old Behrman was angered at such an idea. "Are there people in the world with the foolishness to die because leaves drop off a vine? Why do you let that silly business come in her brain?" "She is very sick and weak," said Sue, "and the disease has left her mind full of strange ideas." "This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie sick," yelled Behrman. "Some day I will paint a masterpiece, and we shall all go away." Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to cover the window. She and Behrman went into the other room. They looked out a window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other without speaking. A cold rain was falling, mixed with snow. Behrman sat and posed as the miner. The next morning, Sue awoke after an hour's sleep. She found Johnsy with wide-open eyes staring at the covered window. "Pull up the shade; I want to see," she ordered, quietly. Sue obeyed. After the beating rain and fierce wind that blew through the night, there yet stood against the wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. It was still dark green at the center. But its edges were colored with the yellow. It hung bravely from the branch about seven meters above the ground. "It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall ring the night. I heard the wind. It will fall today and I shall die at the same time." "Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down toward the bed. "Think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?" But Johnsy did not answer. The next morning, when it was light, Johnsy demanded that the window shade be raised. The ivy leaf was still there. Johnsy lay for a long time, looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was preparing chicken soup. "I've been a bad girl," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how bad I was. It is wrong to want to die. You may bring me a little soup now." An hour later she said: "Someday I hope to paint the Bay of Naples." Later in the day, the doctor came, and Sue talked to him in the hallway. "Even chances," said the doctor. "With good care, you'll win. And now I must see another case I have in your building. Behrman, his name is -- some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man and his case is severe. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital today to ease his pain." The next day, the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now -- that's all." Later that day, Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, and put one arm around her. "I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mister Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was sick only two days. They found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were completely wet and icy cold. They could not imagine where he had been on such a terrible night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted. And they found a ladder that had been moved from its place. And art supplies and a painting board with green and yellow colors mixed on it. And look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it is Behrman's masterpiece ¨C he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."

H. 求《欧亨利短篇小说》读后感，500-600字

读《麦琪的礼物》有感
《麦琪的礼物》是欧·亨利写的一篇有趣的文章。它主要讲述了圣诞节的前一天，住在公寓里的贫穷的德拉想给丈夫吉姆一个惊喜，可是她只有一元八角七，她知道这点钱根本不够买什么好的礼物，于是她把引以自豪的褐色瀑布似的秀发剪下来，卖了，换来了20美元。找遍了各家商店，德拉花去21美元，终于买到一条朴素的白金表链，这可以配上吉姆的那块金表。而吉姆也想给老婆一个惊喜，他同样卖掉了引以自豪的金表，买了德拉羡慕渴望已久的全套漂亮的梳子作圣诞礼物。
从这篇文章里，虽然表面上看他们极不明智地为了对方而牺牲了他们家各自最宝贵的东西，但我深深地感到，他们彼此深爱着对方。他们能牺牲自己最贵重的物品，为的是给对方买来最好的礼物。可是双方卖掉了自己贵重的物品，那么对方的礼物已经不适合自己了，而他们做这些事的时候，都是为了对方着想，根本没有考虑自己。正是因为他们互相爱着，而且是深深地爱着对方，才会有这样有趣的结局。
读完这篇文章，我懂得了我们要去关爱别人，这样别人才会爱我们，正是有了爱，人与人之间才会相互理解，人与人之间才有温情。人与动物之间也是因为有了爱，动物才会信任人类，不伤害人类，与人类和平相处。爱的力量真的是很伟大的，有一首歌里面就唱到了：只要人人都献出一点爱，世界将变成美好的人间。在去年印度洋海啸发生的时候，就有全世界各国的人民伸出援助之手，捐款捐物帮助受难的灾民重建家园，使失散的亲人团聚，从这件事中，我感受到了各国人民之间的纯洁友谊。我相信：只要我们心中充满爱，我们的世界会有更加美好的明天

最后一片叶子》读后感
因这我想看到最后一片叶子掉下来，我等得不耐烦了，也想得不耐烦了，我想摆脱一切飘下去，飘下去，像一片可怜的，疲倦了的叶子那样。
——引自《最后一片叶子》
其实，我想对你们说，别再这样无聊下去了，学点吧，至少让你们觉得并非无事可做。我想对你们说，抓住青春吧，别让它从你身边飘走。
初中三年，应该是残酷的三年，因为它只来一次，而它来的时候，我们还不懂得人生，还没有做好迎接它的准备。我不想你们在走出这个大门后，回首的瞬间，有着太多的失落、后悔与心酸。
或许因为一次次地失败，你们对学习失去了信心，你们认为这一切太难太难。但即使如此，我们就可以放弃吗？
不，为什么要放弃！一直以来，我就以为自己的命运就得自己来主宰；一直以来，我就认为这世上的每一个生命都有权力活出自己的精彩；一直以来，我就把自己当作一个勇士，任何的惊险，我都要去尝试；一直以来，在每一次失落、失败后，我命令自己勇敢地站起来！
对自己的未来负责，你们想过吗？不需要别人来画上那一片叶子，让我们自己对自己说：永远都不放弃，在任何时刻！
选择：给我自己
贝尔门，一个伟大的画家。虽然他的大半生都穷困潦倒，走得是一条失败之路。但他始终有个响亮的目标——画一幅“伟大的杰作”。四十年，他都没有因自己的失败而放弃作画，他一直等待着时机。
与把自己的生命寄托于一片飘摇的叶子琼西相比，贝尔门更像一个失败的英雄。面对他，和他用生命画成的“杰作”，我们任何人都不得不肃然起敬。
然而，如果冷静地思考一下，像贝尔门这样几乎盲目的执着却并非可取。若没有最后的偶然，他将是一个彻头彻尾的可怜虫。在这个世界上，物竞天择，适者生存，既然他在画画方面没有什么天赋，不可能有更大的发展，那就应该明智些，在活下来的前提下，更换一种新的生存方式
，努力使自己活得更出色，而不必拘泥于那没有发展的绘画。

学习，就像一棵树——或许生活也是。我们不可能将每片叶子、每件事都做得很好。就像我，不可能完全地参加所有竞赛，不可能把我曾经喜爱的笛子、二胡练得样样精通，也不可能和每一个同学交成好朋友。于是，我选择放弃，我放弃了许多的叶子，放弃了二胡、笛子，放弃了我不能取得成功的数学竞赛，但我不放弃自己。放弃一些叶子，只是为了让有限的水分和养料开出我想要的花，结出我想要的果，只是为了让自己的根枝长得更粗壮，让自己有一个更有发展余地的未来。
于是，我放弃我应该放弃的，但绝不放弃自己。
《警察与赞美诗》读后感
当人们真正想要努力去做了，上帝偏偏又开始吝啬了，反悔了，赖皮了。
不可否认，机遇是不等人的，它不是被动的，不会等着你去分析这，分析那，考虑这，考虑那等一系列琐碎的事件后，再决定去做。或许它本身就是个稍纵即逝的“精灵”，它考验的是我们的勇气与胆量，智慧与灵魂。但也不是说，所有的事都不应该经过深思熟虑，周密安妥的进行，如果是这样，那么我们与远古时代又有何分别？ 当然机遇也是需要珍惜的，需要好好利用的，碰到机遇已经是很“困难”的，要充分地彻底地去利用，却是“难上加难”。怎样去更好地“完善”它，是个重点。
那位警察，不是已经给了索比多次机会吗？而索比并没有为此去认识到什么，只是一味地无休止地不停地为着他心中所谓的“目标”继续扮演着生命的“小丑”，乐此不疲。而幸运的他，总在“舞台”上有写“失足”，但终究被当作“笑料”，一笑置之。
一场“戏剧”的结束，意味着另一场“戏剧”的开演。对警察而言，只是去例行公事；对读者而言，只是将近结尾；对生活而言，只是个小插曲；对编剧而言，是个不错的情节；对观众而言，只是对得起一张票；对索比而言，是对生命的新想法地靠近，是为他先前的“无知”付出的代价，是为他不懂的珍惜从他手中逃脱，也许可以扭转他命运的“机遇”而对其藐视所得到的教训的最终结果。
如果他会怪任何人，那么证明他的确活该；如果他只怪自己，那么他就能大声地对自己说：“三个月，也不算太久，我会珍惜并且把握住每一天的光阴。幸福，其实并没走远，只是我忽略了。等着吧……”
幸福，其实并没走远。没错，主宰幸福的有很多，机遇是其中的一个。不要等到上帝不耐烦了，毕竟他也有喜怒哀乐，给你个下马威，到那时，就好象太没“人情味”了。受苦的可是自己。
珍惜周遭的人或物，它们每天都在改变，只是我们太忙，没看见。机遇，就好比是遇到的机会，是件好事。好好把握，将它的好处发挥至极，则是一件“美”事。一个人的生命中会有形形色色的状况，每一个状况所具有的意义却是截然不同，大相径庭。选择不同的状况，就会有不同的人生，不同的命运，不同的变化……所以，我们要将机遇“透明化”，完全看清，这样，才不会误入歧途啦。
倘若相反，结局就会如同索比：惊恐地醒悟到自己已经坠入了深渊，堕落的岁月，可耻的欲念，悲观失望，才穷智竭，动机卑鄙。
机遇遇到却不把握，是蠢材；不遇机遇却懂得把握，是人才；既遇机遇又懂得把握，是天才。
《我的叔叔于勒》是莫泊桑的经典短篇小说之一，描写了一个破落家族寄希望于远走美国的“于勒叔叔”能够衣锦还乡带来财富，然而却在一次郊游中偶然发现，这位亲戚已经成了一名在游船上卖牡蛎的流浪汉，从而梦幻破灭的故事。莫泊桑以娴熟的讽刺笔法，描摹了19世纪法国社会的市井百态，文字精炼而又颇为传神。

《两位感恩节的绅士》故事讲了两位美国绅士——其中一人根本不能称之为绅士，他只能说是一个常年受饥饿折磨的穷人。在他们之间有个奇怪的约定——每年感恩节，穷人便会坐在联邦广场喷水池对面人行道旁边东入口右面的第三条长凳上，等待着老绅士的到来。老绅士来了之后，会带这位饥肠辘辘的穷人饱餐一顿。这就是他们之间神圣的约定。对老绅士而言，一顿饭钱简直微不足道，但是，他却从其中找到了助人的乐趣。而穷人的目的也并不完全是在于那顿丰盛的饭菜，更重要的是能使一位老人如自己所愿。
这个传统延续了九年之久，第十年的感恩节，穷人照惯例走在去约会地点的路上。可出乎意料的事发生了。半路上，穷人被一幢住宅的管家请进了门，并可以享受一顿丰盛的大餐。原来住宅的主人——两位老太太，也有一个奇怪的传统——在正午把第一个饥饿的路人请进门，让他大吃大喝，饱餐一顿。饥饿的穷人抵挡不住事物的诱惑，畅开肚子，吃了起来。当他心满意足地走出住宅时，才想起了和老绅士的约定。但他还是如约与老绅士碰了面。老绅士将他带到了一处餐厅，穷人为了不扫老绅士的兴，只能装作饥饿难奈地狼吞虎咽起来。尽管穷人那时只剩下挪动身子和呼吸的确力气了。穷人吃完后，老绅士付了帐，两人便道了别。
故事的结局是——两人在回家的路上都晕了过去，被送进了医院。穷人是因为吃得太撑，几乎撑破了胃，而老绅士，一位在前些日子还家财万贯的富翁则是因为三天三夜没有吃东西，身体脱虚，而在路上倒了下来。
读这篇文章就好像是在嚼一只橄榄，甜味中带了一丝酸涩，让人在漠然一笑之后，思索良久。
文中的主人公，充其量不过是两个“小人物”，然而反映初等推己及人，相濡以沫的人性魅力却是那些“大人物”，“权贵们”所无法匹敌的。
那位老绅士在身上只剩下一点钱的情况下，完全可以不去赴约，但是他看重的不是金钱，而是诚信，他宁可饿死也不愿意食言。相比如今社会上一些只要自己利益受到损害就不择手段的人来说，老绅士的人性魅力显露无遗。再看那个穷人，尽管吃不饱穿不暖，没有受什么教育，但是他比任何受过良好教育的“权贵”都充满魅力 ——那是人性的魅力，他可以对老绅士说自己已经饱了，可他为了圆老绅士的心愿，咬紧牙关，把饭菜吃得干干净净。也许这很可笑，可是却是不是多么伟大，多么令人钦佩！
读了这篇文章，我知道了人性的伟大力量，我也立志要像那两个绅士一样，不求活得轰轰烈烈，但求真真实实，充满意义，有所追求！！！

I. 用英文写一篇短篇爱情小说

In the autumn of my last year at college，I got into the habit of studying at the Radcliffe library ．I didn't do it just to admire the girls，though I agree I liked that too．The place was quiet，nobody knew me，and there was less demand for the books I needed for my studies．The day before one of my midterm history exams，I still hadn't found time to read the first book on the reading list．（That，of course，is a very common disease at Harvard．） I walked over to the reservations desk to get one of the books which would save me from failing me exam the next day．There were two girls working there．One was a tall，sporty type．The other was the quiet kind，in glasses．I choseher-Middle Four Eyes．

‘Do you have English Society in the Middle Ages？’

She looked at me．It was a sharp，unfriendly look．‘Don't you have your own library at Harvard？’she asked．

‘Listen，Harvard students are allowed to use the Radcliffe library．’

‘I'm not talking about what you're allowed to do，Preppie．I'm talking about what's right and fair．You fellows have five million books．We only have a few thousand．’

My god，I thought．I wish I'd spoken to the sporty one！This girl's the type that thinks that，because there are five times as many men at Harvard as there are girls at Radcliffe，the girls gave to be five times as smart．Ican usually make those types feel pretty．But just then I badly needed that damn book．

‘Listen，I need that damn book．’

‘Would you please watch your language，Preppie．’

‘What makes you so sure I went to prep school？’

‘You look stupid and rich，’she said，removing her glasses．

‘You're wrong，’I said．‘I'm smart and poor．’

‘Oh，no，Preppie，’she said．‘I'm smart and poor．’

She was looking straight at me．Her eyes were brown．All right，maybe I look rich，but I wouldn't let a Radcliffe girl-even one with pretty eyes-call me stupid．

‘What makes you so smart？’I asked．

‘I wouldn't go for coffee with you，’she replied．

‘Listen-I wouldn't ask you．’

‘That，’she replied，‘is what makes you stupid．’

Let me explain why I took her for coffee．By al－lowing her to think I wanted to，I got that book．And， because she couldn't leave the library until closing time，I had plenty of time to study it．I learned some useful facts about the church and the law in the eleventh century．As a result，I got an A in my history exam．That，bythe way，was the mark I gave to Jenny's legswhen she first walked out from behind that desk．I can't say I gave her high marks for her clothes，however．They were rather strange，to say the least．I specially hated that In-dian thing that she used for a handbag．Fortunately I didn't mention this，as I later discovered that she had made that herself．

We went to a coffee shop near by．I ordered coffee for both of us，and a chocolate ice-cream for her．

‘I'm Jennifer Cavilleri，’she said．‘I'm American，but my family came from Italy．’I had guessed that al－ready．‘And I'm studying music，’she added．
sorry~太长了!!!

J. 短篇小说500

纯种德国黑格尔
与其做一株绿洲中的小草，不如做一棵秃丘上的橡树
——题记

有一条流浪的纯种纯种德国黑格尔，刚出生就被父母抛弃，因为纯种的德国黑格尔天生就要受到磨练。这可怜的家伙甚至不知道自己的父母是谁，他甚至认为自己是一只被父母杂种狗。他只能靠着拣别人的残羹剩饭来维持生活，尽遭别人的白眼，它痛苦极了，它受够了这样的生活，它诅咒这个世界，它感到自己是世上最不幸的狗。
直到有一天，它攒够5根骨头的学费到狗学院报名。学院的老师教它去找一个富有的人家做他们的宠物，教会它怎样讨好主人，让它无论自己是否高兴都要摇着尾巴，装出一副很高兴的样子，主人不管说什么，一定要百分百的服从……
他的夫人来到宠物店，这条流浪狗抓住了这个机会，赶忙迎上去，一个劲地摇尾巴，果然，学校里的功课起了作用，这一对夫妻看中了就这样，一年之后这条流浪狗毕业了。毕业后，学校把它送进了宠物店。宠物店里的人上上下下给他打扮了一番，给他穿了一件好看的红毛衣——尽管夏天里穿毛衣让他感到很不舒服；又给它喷上了高档香水——虽然他对这香味过敏。一周后，一位西装革履的人领着这条流狗。把钞票一放，抱着他回了家。他靠着在学校里的本事在家里站住了脚。
这个家里的主人有钱有势，他生活地十分幸福：有好吃的、有好喝的、有主人买来的宠物玩具玩……他过着梦寐以求的生活，他得到了其他狗羡慕的眼神。当然这全靠学院里的“技能”：看见主人就摇尾巴，并表现得十分高兴，无论主人叫你怎样，要百分百服从，即使那有多难或多么伤尊严。主人喜欢的人，再邪恶也要向他表示友好，主人厌恶的人，再善良也得狗眼看人低……
该有的全有了，可他总觉得少了点什么，不，是少了一些很重要的东西！他一天比一天苦恼，他觉得他生活得很窝囊，他受不了这种低三下四的生活，他受够了！好象有一种信念再呼唤他，他不能这么活下去了！他醒悟了！他终于明白他失去了尊严和自由！他再也受不了了，他头也不回地离开了那个叫做“家”的“家”，那不是他要的生活…。
后来，他选择了过无忧无虑的生活。再后来他做了一只警犬，再进行警犬训练时，训练员吃惊地告诉他，他是一只种纯种德国黑格尔！他听了不禁吃了一惊，他发誓今后再也不做那寄生在有钱人家的窝囊废！他觉得他对不起他那高贵的血统！
他当了一只警犬，虽然很艰苦，没有好吃、好喝、好玩的，没有闲适的生活。但他觉得日子过得很充实。因为他觉得这么活着有意义；这么活着是真正地“活着”，就这样在艰苦的训练下，他成为了一只优秀的警犬，多次解决大案，因表现神勇被人们尊称为“神犬”他骄傲极了，他觉得虽然失去了优越的生活条件但去得到他认为最重要的东西——尊严。
但，在一次案子中……有一次，他在追一个罪犯时，奋不顾身地跑在最前面，他勇猛地咬住罪犯的脚，罪犯吃痛，愤怒地大声叫嚷，并抽出腰边的尖刀。这时，这流浪狗，不！这只“神犬”却毫不畏惧地扑向歹徒。他想就是送了命也要尽到警犬的责任；就是送了命也要对得起“神犬”这个称号……可不容他想下去罪犯那罪恶的尖刀便插入了“神犬”的胸膛。顿时。血涌……但神犬却紧紧咬住罪犯的腿，毫不放松，丧心病狂的罪犯又向“神犬”的身体连捅了好几刀。这时，我们的英雄——“神犬”终于支持不住了，他倒下了……
临死的一瞬间，“神犬”心想：这么死，值了……