Shumil Pavel
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  • Комментарии: 8, последний от 12/03/2009.
  • © Copyright Shumil Pavel (перевел Krokodyl4ik)
  • Обновлено: 01/03/2015. 5k. Статистика.
  • Миниатюра: Фэнтези, Перевод Translates/Переводы
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    -- ENGLISH --
    (Translated by Krokodyl4ik)

    Some words from the author...

    Short story is a peculiar genre. It has its regulations and laws. Some drown-out or imperfectly planned scenes are admissible in a novel. There also might be some stylistic imperfections. In short story all of them are unacceptable. Every word is on the right place, and none of them is superfluous. It's said the ending makes the story. It's 300%-right as far as short story is concerned. Such severe restrictions are there.
    I'd never written short stories before. Once I decided to try. It's for you to judge what came of it.

    THE TRICKMASTER by Pavel Shumil "La-a-arson!!!" Who gave a loudhailer to Jake? Someone, kill him! I go out of my actor's trailer. "Larson, they are shooting your bit now!" "Is there any need to shout that loud?!" I listen carefully to the latest instructions. This trick is a piece of cake. I gaze at the cloudy sky, throw off my robe and seat myself in the sports Jaguar near the stuntman. "Larson, take off your wrist-watch", cameraman notifies as he's glanced through the camera lens. Clapper! Action! The trick has just started. We catch up with the bus. The stuntman should get inside the bus through broken window pane. He takes his hands off the wheel, stands up, steps one foot on the car side and the other on the steering-wheel. I move onto his place and drive the jaguar alongside the bus. The stuntman climbs into the window. The trick is shot. On the screen it will look like he is driving with his left heel. I put the robe on and walk back into the personal trailer. I seat myself in an arm-chair and put my feet up on the make-up table. "Here are your sun cream and lunch," Sarah runs into the trailer. She's my lawyer, agent, promoter, secretary, makeup artist, masseuse, gofer and just a nice girl without hangups. "The hell with the cream!" I take the ketchup bottle she's brought me, screw the lid off and take a gulp. "Ooh! Strong fluid! It's warm!" "La-a-arson!!!" Sarah cringes. I screw the lid back on, ruffle her hair, and walk out to the set. We are shooting a comedy scene this time. A clumsy mechanic drops his tools and chases a runaway wheel. His car falls off the jack. I help the tools drop, kick the jack out, and make the wheel roll in circles around the car. Simple enough tricks. But the director doesn't like something. We do three more takes. "Cut! Well done! Everyone is villain. And Larson - What a rascal you are!" It's a compliment. Sarah gives me the robe. We go back to the trailer. "There are no more scenes outdoors. But we've got three sequences in studios," she notifies me. It's quite a lucky day. There are five scenes in all. If work goes well we'll wrap it up by 4 p.m. A horror mystic comedy is next. "Candles are fading," commands the director. I walk about the room and blow out the candles. "Red light. More. A saucer flies up." I raise the saucer over the table obediently. "Claudia's scared. Scared but not amazed. I said - scared!!!" growls the director. I bend over to catch her eyes, caress her chin, neck, and smile broadly. Claudia stares at me wide-eyed and squeals. It doesn't fit with the script, but it's very natural. Next, we shoot a child's sleep. Sleeping boy is to levitate about the house. I lift the child overhead and walk about the house following camera with light catlike steps. The camera assistant pulls funny faces at the boy to make him smile. He is the man to film! "Cut!" I lower the boy, slip the robe on. Sarah looks into her notebook and tells me the place of next shooting. This time the job is quite simple. I should walk leaving footprints in the sand. After the film has been developed they will appear by themselves. We're vampires, it's impossible to film us. Even mirrors don't reflex us. On the screen I'm an invisible man. Each scene I play I save the studio from a hundred to thousands coins and personally earn pretty much. But there's one thing about this job that annoys me. When I'm acting in any crowd scene, in any kind of weather, be it summer or winter, I've got to be naked, completely naked.
    About the translator and this translation<br><br>(Short version)<br><br></center><p align = justify> Once there lived tiny greenish crocodile. When Tiny Crocodile had grown up a little it read one interesting book. It was a long story about a dragon written by Pavel Shumil. And some years later there appeared some other books created by this author. Tiny Crocodile decided to find the author's site in the Internet. And the site was found. Then Tiny Crocodile thought that it could try to translate one short story it liked and made it. That's all, folks!<br><br>Krokodyl4ik<br> e-mail: krokodyl4ik @<br><center> []
    (c) Translated by Krokodyl4ik. 09.2006
    e-mail: krokodyl4ik @
    This (revised) version is edited by Krokodyl4ik with the help of all the inhabitants of LAF. Special thanks to Sergey Zubkov, Alone Coder, Cthulhu, Walrus, OMG and all the inhabitants of LAF for their generous and gratuitous help and thanks to the author for his patience. If you found a mistake, please, e-mail me

  • Комментарии: 8, последний от 12/03/2009.
  • © Copyright Shumil Pavel
  • Обновлено: 01/03/2015. 5k. Статистика.
  • Миниатюра: Фэнтези, Перевод
  • Оценка: 8.00*4  Ваша оценка:

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