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  Аноним22 января 2012 г.

  Streaks of light came in through the closed shutters where they worked with the seriousness of creators - and destruction after all is a form of creation. A kind of imagination had seen this house as it had now become.

  
  

  Очень сильный рассказ. Спасибо Candela за наводку.

  Разрушение как вид созидания, тоже требующий фантазии, планирования, трудолюбия и четкой организации.

  Пробирает до "дрожи в позвоночнике". Психология чистого зла. Мощно и прекрасно написано.

  
  

  The grey ash floated above them and fell on their heads like age. 'I'd like to see Old Misery's face when we are through,' T. said.
  'You hate him a lot?' Blackie asked.
  'Of course I don't hate him,' T. said. 'There'd be no fun if I hated him.'

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