短篇英文小说高中

① 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.

② 求适合高中生读的英文小说

只说我自己看过的吧。我也比较喜欢看现代英文小说多些。
《小公主》---说的是一个小孤儿的故事，儿童文学。语言还算简单。我记忆中觉得有点长（可能是我第一个啃下的英文原著吧）。目前已改编成电影。（好像故事背景是近代的英国或法国）
《瓶中信》--有点老的纯爱小说，相当有名，中篇小说。。。。。语言依然简单，但是有人评论说语言很优美。内容不琼瑶。中年离婚女人和丧妻男人的因为一个漂流瓶引发的爱情故事。有电影的~（ps:故事时间发生的是现代的美国）
《三十九级台阶》--语言还算简单，有一些生词，中篇小说。以世界大战为（忘记是一战还是二战了）背景的侦探小说。我认为对那段历史不熟悉是我最主要的阅读障碍。也电影化了。
《夏洛特的网》--语言很简单的，因为是儿童读物嘛，篇幅不长，大概算短篇小说。猪和蜘蛛的友情，不过贵在内容很好。依然给力的电影化了。
《动物农庄》--偏政治题材的一部小说，中短篇的长度。作者虚构了一个农庄动物起义以后开始共产主义的故事。因为小说题材的严肃性给作者带来了很高的声望。嗯，其实还蛮好看的。生词不多。
《京华烟云》--林语堂原著（英文版）长篇小说，我没有看完的小说，看了一半，相当精彩呢。已电视剧化了。背景是中华大陆清末民国初的家族故事。有一定量生词，书也很有点厚度，出场人物众多。。。。。
《小王子》、《老人与海》--如雷贯耳的文，我也不能免俗了，推荐理由，文字清新朴实，表达的意义却能做樱那么丰富，真让人惊奇。
以上的一些是我觉得还可以的电子书格式的，网上随便都能搜索到的。（京华烟云的可能少点）
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实体书部分
偏爱读实体书，但是好多已经出版的实体书都是经典小说，古典小说，我有那么一点兴趣缺缺阿。
《简。萨默斯的日记》--书荒时看的一本书，哎，说的是孀居中年女性和孤独的老女人的友谊。。。。。。。因为很多都是些心理描写，╮(╯▽╰)╭，我兴趣不大，中途放弃。。。。。。其实文字还是碰胡友比较简单优美的，主要是我兴笑槐趣不大，也算是现代小说中比较有名的吧。
剩下的一些，我都是从图书馆搞到的现代小说，非名著，语言比较简单，叙事性比较强，篇幅很短。分别有两个系列我比较喜欢。
（1）南师——康乃馨英语文库（据说是面向初中生的。。。。。。。我雷。。。。。面对这套书回想一下，我初中的词汇量真小阿）
共7本书，相对都比较短，在50-200页左右，全英文读本无中文翻译。
《宝嘉康蒂》、《爱犬寻觅记》、《父辈的土地》、《可乐和吻》、《情系澳洲》（我个人认为最好看的一本）、《淘金路上》、《穆尔提默的涂鸦》。
（2）外研社·剑桥英语原创读物（好吧，总算有说是除了初中生也面向高中生，额，依然看得津津有味）
分级读物。这套的书更多些。题材更现代一点，更广泛，情节更精彩一点。有探险，侦探，爱情，科幻。高分级的读物相对篇幅也比较长。可惜我这里的图书馆收录的不全，目前我也只能看到大部分的小说而已。
冰冻的比萨、野兽传说、洛根的选择、阿姆斯特丹匪帮、丛林爱情故事、女督察洛根、永不离分、战争孤儿、出卖
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另外实体书的话，有些出版社还出版了一些由老外缩写的名著。其实还是有看头的。篇幅也相对较短小，易读。
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最后还有看看漫画，我喜欢看《丁丁历险记》（The Adventure of Tintin)。主要是字很少，哈哈。有出系列动画片。
另外，欧美的漫画取材也很众多，有一部漫画《远山的弃儿》（Freaks Of The Heartland），说了一个专出怪胎的村庄中兄弟俩的故事，故事很阴暗，倒也很温情。很有点深度的。。。。。
如果喜欢日漫，可以上网看日漫英文版。。。。。。。喜欢欧美漫也可以上网搜欧美漫（像《英雄》、《超人》、《蝙蝠侠》、《蜘蛛侠》都可以找到的）

③ 适合高中读的美国的英文小说，大家推荐几本。

1. 英国Charles Dickens的A Tale of Two Cities《双城记》很不错！讲有关于革命的东西。适合男孩看。
2. 美国Bill Bryson的A Short History of Nearly Everything《万物简史》。
3. 美国Emest Hemingway的The Old Man and the Sea《老人与海》。很经典。
4.英国的《简爱》(Jane Eyre)
5.《爱丽丝梦游仙境》（又名爱丽丝漫游奇境；英语：Alice's Adventures in Wonderland）是英国作家查尔斯·路德维希·道奇森以笔名路易斯·卡罗尔于1865年出版的儿童文学作品
6.。《绿野仙踪全集》又名《OZ国经典童话》The Wonderful Wizard of Oz ，是美国作家弗兰克·鲍姆创作的奇幻冒险童话故事集，共十四本，有“美国的《西游记》”之称。

④ 跪求3-5篇英语短篇小说的主要内容与人物评价！！！（用英文！~）

2. In a small town of st petersburg, have a very naughty, but a good boy, tom, he hates school for the insipidity of the life, hoping that can and the like the exciting life. one day, tom and huckleberry had left home and went to a desert island, a few days of his life. they know that a case, a critical moment, tom has a very fierce ： joe. tom was afraid of retaliation by joe,Was always uneasy. he and huckleberry a haunted house when he found joe, then the murderer death in the cave. tom and huck ley had a lot of coins.

1。The old man and the sea is a fisherman eighty-four days have hooked a fish, and nearly died of hunger ； but he still wouldn't admit defeat in the eighty-fifth day catches a great fish. fish mullin pulled the boat to the sea, but the old man still held, even if there is no water, no food, no, no, he does not lose heart. after two days and nights later, he eventually killed the fish, and put it on a ship.But many of the shark was immediately come to rob him of killing them, all ； him to last only a broken on the tiller as a weapon. however, the fish were still wet, finally, the old man just dragged a 鱼骨 head. he went home in bed, from dreams of yesteryear to find a good time.