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The manager was a youngish man, stout, blond and of medium height. He wore his clothes well and contrived to look extremely smart without appearing overdressed.
Raymond Hewson looked neither. He was a small, spare, pale man, with lank, errant brown hair, and though he spoke plausibly and even forcibly, he had the defensive and somewhat furtive air of a man who was used to rebuffs.
He looked what he was, a man gifted somewhat above the ordinary, who was a failure through his lack of self-assertion. The manager was speaking. If I allowed it, and some young idiot lost his senses, what would be my position?
But your being a journalist somewhat alters the case. Besides, here we have something to gain: You want to be paid twice, do you?
Er — what is your paper, Mr Hewson? However, I should get no difficulty in getting the story printed. The Morning Echo would use it like a shot.
No live paper could turn it down. And how do you propose to treat it? I know all about the process of their manufacture. I can walk about in company downstairs as unmoved as if I were walking among so many skittles, but I should hate having to sleep down there alone among them.
If I did, I should expect them to haunt the scene of their crimes or the spot where the bodies were laid, instead of a cellar, which happens to contain their waxwork effigies. After all, they represent the lowest and most appalling types of humanity, and — although I would not own it publicly — the people who come to see them are not generally charged with the very highest motives.
The whole atmosphere of the place is unpleasant, and if you are susceptible to atmosphere I warn you that you are in for a very uncomfortable night.
His soul sickened at the prospect, even while he smiled casually upon the manager. But he had a wife and a family to keep, and for the past month he had been living on paragraphs, eked out by his rapidly dwindling store of savings.
Here was a chance not to be missed — the price of a special story in the Morning Echo, with a five-pound note to add to it. It meant comparative wealth and luxury for a week, and freedom from the worst anxieties for a fortnight.
Besides, if he wrote the story well, it might lead to an offer of regular employment. Fortunately, there were very few people down there at the time, or there might have been a panic.
It was a room of irregular shape with a vaulted roof, and dimly lit by electric lights burning behind inverted bowls of frosted glass. It was, by design, an eerie and uncomfortable chamber — a chamber whose atmosphere invited its visitors to speak in whispers.Select Your Own Seats.
Unavailable: Your Seats. The CBC Short Story Prize is now closed. Finalists will be announced in the spring of The prize will open in September Full online text of The Necklace by Guy de Maupassant. Other short stories by Guy de Maupassant also available along with many others by classic and contemporary authors.
Another great reason to choose a short story format is the fact that many short stories in French are available online, for example, via monstermanfilm.com or monstermanfilm.com This is especially true of 19th century stories, but some more modern stories will be available as well.
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