❶ 各位看过的小说有那些语言优美、故事情节生动的短篇小说给我介绍几本。最主要的是语言优美！
我很爱野象小姐啊。
她是最小说上新人里人气急升的作家。其写作手法细腻而又贴近生活中的事内情，容温暖而不失典雅
她的《嗨，你还在不在》，《逾期不候》都在最小说上发表了。
笛安的中短篇《姐姐的丛林》很感人。
还有最小说上最近一位让前辈瞠目结舌的新人：南羽（薛彬）
他一共发表了两篇文章《当晚》和《云鹤》
在最小说上均是金赏。笔触细腻动人。文字功底扎实。
被称为小笛安。
❷ 求一些情节跌宕起伏，读完了以后很耐人寻味，其中还蕴藏着一些人生哲理的短篇小说。
父爱的深度 丈夫一直记恨他父亲，他说上学时每次拿生活费，父亲都掏出欠条，让他记上钱数，签上名字日期。 【一】
我跟杨炎结婚八年。没见过公公。开始我以为杨炎是怕我嫌弃那个家，不肯带我回去。于是我积极表态：选了你．就做好了接受你的父母的准备．无论他们是穷是富，是老是病。杨炎握着我的手，却不说话。
有一次．我甚至买好了三张去他家的车票．兴冲冲地摆到他面前。说：“冲儿都5岁了，也该见见爷爷奶奶了。”却不想杨炎的脸一下子拉得老长，把车票撕得粉碎。杨炎鼻子不是鼻子脸不是脸地说：“冲儿没有爷爷．我也没有爹。”然后他把一个杯子摔到了地上。我从没见过他生那么大的气。
杨炎从农村出来．我知道他不是个忘恩负义的人。每年过年过节，他都要买很多东西寄回家里。每次打电话．他都说：娘，来城里住些日子吧！娘去了哥哥姐姐家。他总心急火燎地奔过去。看得出他想家，却从不提回家的事。杨炎也从来不提爹。我不知道他们之间到底有什么解不开的心结。
第二天是周末，杨炎把冲儿送到姥姥家。他回来接过我手里正洗的衣服．第一次跟我说起我从未见过面的公公。
【二】
杨炎是家里的老三．他有一个哥哥．一个姐姐．都上了大学。从前我总说：咱爹咱娘真的很伟大。农民家庭供出三个大学生．那得受什么样的煎熬啊！杨炎总是一口接一口地抽烟。不接我的话。
杨炎上初三那年，姐姐继哥哥考上大学后．也考上了本省最好的师范学校。收到录取通知书那天．全家人都在侍弄那二分烤烟地．阳光明晃晃的．把家里人的心情都晒得焦躁。姐姐带着哭腔说：我不去了．我去深圳打工，供小炎上学
爹重重地把手里的锄头摔在地上：“不上学，也轮不到你！”
他抬起头，说：“姐．我16了，我不念了。”母亲在一边抹眼泪。哥哥蹲在地边．有气无力地说：“我再找两份家教．咱们挺挺。我毕业就好了。”
家里东凑西凑还是没凑够姐姐的学费。爹抬腿出去。回来时，手里攥着一把崭新的票子。他把马上就可以卖好价钱的烤烟地贱卖给了村里的会计。娘说：“就这点地都卖了，咱往后吃啥喝啥?”爹说：“实在不行。就让老疙瘩下来。”或者爹只是那样一说，杨炎却记在了心里。尽管他说了不念书的话，但这话从爹的嘴里说出来。他的心里很不是滋味。
【三】
姐姐上学走了。爹出去帮人家烤烟叶。爹的手艺好，忙得不可开交。杨炎却因为爹的那句话．学习上松懈下来．反正早晚都是辍学的命．玩命学又怎么样？很快。他便跟一帮社会上的孩子混到了一起。
直到有一天．他跟那些所谓的“朋友”去水库玩了一天回到家时．看到爹铁青着脸站在门口等他。
见了他，爹上来就给了他一巴掌：“既然你不愿意上学。那好，从明天起你就别上了，跟你i舅去工地上做小工!”
他瞪着爹．心里的委屈一下子涌上来，他喊：“凭什么让他俩上学．不让我上?”
爹说：“因为你是老疙瘩，没别的理由。”
他梗起脖子，说：“不让我上学，我就不活了。”杨炎是个说到做到的人。他整整饿了自己5天．娘无奈地找来了村里的叔叔伯伯。爹说：“想上学可以，打欠条吧，你花我的每一分钱，你都给我写上字据，将来你挣钱了．都还给我。我和你娘不能养了儿子．最后还谁都指望不上。”
他坐起来．抖着手写好字据。他咬牙切齿地说：“你放心．我一分一厘也不会欠你的。”
那晚．他跑到村东头的小河边哭了一夜。爹一定不是亲的，否则．怎么会如此对他?人家的老儿子。不都是心头肉吗?
他上学后，很少回家。可是爹却总是以各种各样的理由叫他回家帮他干活。烤烟要上架，他一个人干不过来，要杨炎回家帮忙。麦子黄了，不及时收割会掉粒．还要杨炎回家抢收。杨炎咬着牙。拼命地干活，他想考上大学就好了。离开这个家，也就算逃离苦海了
那次割豆子。杨炎一镰刀下去．割伤了腿。娘给他抹药时，他问：“娘。我是你们要来的吧?”
娘叹了口气，说：“别怪你爹，他也是被逼得没法儿了，他怕你们都走了。孤得慌。”
他看了看正在院子里侍弄那半垄萝卜的爹，说：“人家的父母砸锅卖铁都供孩子上学，哪像他。一天只知道钱钱钱。他一天到晚净干那没用的。”
爹每年都要在院子里种半垄萝卜．也许是土质不好，萝卜全都很小很小．几乎不能吃，全家人只能喝味道很难闻的萝卜缨子汤。
娘还当好东西一样，把萝卜缨子晒干，给他泡水喝。想想他就有气。
【四】
上高中时，哥哥毕业上班了．姐姐的生活费也可以自理了。按理说家里的条件好了很多。爹应该对他松一点了。
可是，每次他回家拿生活费、资料费．爹都郑重其事地掏出那张欠条．让他把钱数记在后面，签上名字、日期。每次写这些时．他都会咬紧牙关。然后把对爹的感情踩在脚底下。
那年临近高考，家里的麦子又黄了。爹捎信给他．让他回来割麦子。他终于没忍住，回家跟爹大吵一架：“你就不能割，干啥偏指着我呀?”
爹狠狠地磕掉烟袋里的烟灰。不紧不慢地说：“养儿防老，我不靠你靠谁?”
他没黑夜没白天地割了三天麦子，麦子割完．他头也不回地回了学校。
那年高考．他考了全乡最高分。他给哥哥姐姐写了封信，信里说．他不指望爹能供他上大学，希望他们可以借他一点钱，这些钱将来他都会还。信里面写得很决绝。那时，他的眼里只有前程，亲情于他，不过是娘的一滴滴眼泪．一点用处也没有。
上大学走的那天．他噙着泪离家，甚至没跟爹打声招呼。他已经很多年没叫他爹了。在他眼里，爹更像是一个债主，有了他一笔笔债压着．杨炎才能使劲地往外走。杨炎吸了一口烟说，我能有今天，也算拜他所赐!
走到村口．杨炎回头看家里低矮的土房，一不小心看到站在门口的爹．他手搭凉棚向他离家的方向望。杨炎转过头，心变得很硬很硬。
【五】
杨炎说：“小云。第一次去你家，你爸给我剥橘子，跟我下象棋，和颜悦色地说话，我回来就哭了一场。这样的父亲才是父亲啊。”说完，他的眼睛又湿了。
杨炎从一本旧书里找出一张皱皱的纸．我看见上面密密麻麻记着好些账．下面写着杨炎的名字。杨炎说：“还清了这张纸，我就不欠他什么了。”
我看得出杨炎不快乐，他对冲儿极其溺爱．他不接受别人说冲儿一点点不好，就连我管冲儿．他都会跟我翻脸。我知道杨炎的心里有个结。
跟单位请好假，我对杨炎说要出差几天．然后去了杨炎的老家。
打听着找到杨炎家，尽管有了心理准备还是吃了一惊。家里三个在城里工作的儿女，都寄钱回来．怎么他们还住着村里最破的土坯房?看来杨炎说的公公爱钱如命果然不假。
院子里还有半垄杨炎说的萝卜地。每年婆婆还是会寄些晒十的萝卜缨给我。嘱咐我泡水给杨炎喝。我嫌那味道太难闻，总是偷偷扔掉。
婆婆出来倒泔水．看到我，愣了一下。说：“你怎么来了?”我和杨炎结婚时，婆婆去过。
把我让进屋，昏暗的光线里．我看到佝偻在炕上的老人。他挣扎着起来。婆婆说：“这是小云，杨炎家的。”公公哦了一声．用手划拉了一下炕，说：“走累了吧?快坐。”
他没有想象中凶神恶煞．感觉他只是个慈祥的乡下老头。
我说：“爹，你咋了?”婆婆刚要说，公公便给她递了个眼色，说：“没啥，人老了，零件都不好使了。”婆婆抹了抹眼睛，开始给我张罗饭。
帮她做饭的当儿，婆婆问起杨炎和冲儿。我用眼角的余光看公公，他装作若无其事，可我知道他听得很仔细。
跟婆婆出去抱柴，我说：“杨炎还在记恨爹呢!”
婆婆的泪汹涌而出。她说：“都说父子是前世的冤家，这话一点不假。你爹那个脾气死犟，杨炎更是八头牛都拉不回来。
“其实。最疼小炎的还是你爹。你看这半垄萝卜，你爹年年种．就是家里再难的时候，也没把它种成别的。就是因为杨炎内虚．有个老中医说萝卜缨泡水能补气．你爹就记下了。年年都是他把萝卜缨晒好了，寄给你们。然后让我打电话，还不让我说是他弄的……”
“那为什么爹那时那样对杨炎呢?”
婆婆叹了口气。
“那时候杨炎在外面交了不三不四的朋友．你爹若不用激将法，怕是那学他就真的不念了。每次找他回来干活，都是你爹想他，又不明说，谁知那孩子犟，两个人就一直顶着牛……
“你爹的身体不行了，动哪哪疼．可是他不让我跟孩子说，他说，他们好比啥都强，想到他们仨．我就哪都不疼了。他说什么也不肯看病．小炎给的那些钱，他都攒着，说留给冲儿上大堂…” 我的眼睛模糊了。
婆婆说：“他每天晚上梦里都喊儿女的名字．醒了，就说些他们小时候的事。他说，孩子小时候多好，穷是穷点。可都在身边，叽叽喳喳的．想清静一会儿都不行……”
我站在村口给杨炎打手机。父爱是口深井。儿子那浅浅的桶，怎么能量出井的深度呢？
❸ 世界著名短篇小说
THE GIFT OF THE
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is graally subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.
In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."
The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze ring a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out lly at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."
Down rippled the brown cascade.
"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him.
"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"
Jim looked about the room curiously.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.
Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"
And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The ll precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.
"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."
The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of plication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
❹ 推荐几篇情节跌宕的短篇小说，大概1000字以内，快哦
夜慢慢地降临了。草丛里虫鸣唧唧,此起彼伏。
有两只蚊子,歇在草叶上。
公蚊子吸了一口草汁,轻轻地推了推赌气僵立的母蚊子,柔声地哄道: “亲爱的,你就喝一口吧,你一整天不吃不喝的,我真担心……”
母蚊子鄙夷地看了一眼沾满露水的草叶,不高兴地说:“这么淡而无味的东西,叫我怎么吃得下去？你天天说天天说的,不嫌烦吗？”
“你是存心要和人类作对么？”公蚊子焦虑地看着她,“你不知道人类准备了多少种东西来对付我们,那种气味,我闻着就头晕脑胀,你万一……”
“你是个懦夫,知道吗？”母蚊子冷冷地看着他。然后振翅,从他身边飞走了。
公蚊子忧心忡忡地看着人们的窗户里透出的灯光。他知道她在里面。不知道为什么,今晚他有一种特别不好的预感,这使得他停在叶片上的身躯不断地发着抖。
他好想看到她,知道她安全,虽然他无法遏抑住她吸食人血的野心。他突然悲凉地意识到,仅仅这一点,也许就会把他们两个都毁了。
露水更重了,他觉得冷,可是她仍然没有出来。他想到他们的前生,不是两只蚊子,而是两只企鹅。生活在冰天雪地里,整天愉快地迈着优雅从容的绅士步。那时,他是一只最优秀的企鹅。深深地爱着她。像所有准备求婚的企鹅一样,他千辛万苦地奔波着,去寻找石子。他长途地跋涉,丢下一块又一块不太满意的石子,摔得头破血流时,他终于找到了一枚最精美最光洁的,他觉得只有这一枚,才配得上 她。可是,她和另一只企鹅结婚了。那个他,跟在后面捡,把他扔的都捡起来,送了她。粗糙的,不完美的石子,但是很多,堆得满满的。他伤心地退出了,但是追随她,到了这一世,甘心陪她,做一只蚊子。
他被一种揪心的等待煎熬着,拼了失去生命的危险,往人类的窗里飞去。果然看到了她,正伏在人的胳膊上,埋头吸着,青色的翅膀在轻轻地颤着。而他恐惧地发现,左臂动也不动的“人”正悄悄地抬起了右手…… “快—躲开啊!~~~~”他撕心裂肺地大喊,可是来不及了,她痛楚地蜷成一团,掉到地上去了。 他飞近她,跪在一团血污的她身边,泪如雨下。她吃力地睁着眼睛望着他,静静地,也流下泪来,“可惜啊,真可惜……”“你把我们两个都葬送了……”他试图扶起浑身冒血的她,“为什么,你总是不肯听我的劝？”
“我知道……可是我没有办法……因为,因为我怀了你的孩子……它需要营养……草汁不够,我必须吸血……我知道我会死,但是你会继续活下去,人类不会伤你的,因为你没有冒犯他们……”她霎了霎濒死的眼睛,微笑着说:“其实生了孩子,我也就会殚精竭虑而死,但这是我们做母亲的责任……就算是拼了千千万万人的唾骂,也要为后代提供最好的东西……这是没有办法的事情……”
“为什么？你为什么不早告诉我？” “我知道你疼我,如果我告诉你,你会替我去做的,那么这会儿死的就是你了……我舍不得。呵……如果可以为你生一个孩子,我也就没有遗憾了……我上辈子欠了你的,这辈子想还,结果欠了你更多……上辈子,我们是企鹅。其实我一直爱你,可是我却嫁了他……因为他送了我好多石子,你知道吗？我们生活在冰天雪地里,如果没有足够的石子做窝孵卵,我们的后代在出壳之前就会被冰层冻死……你送我的那一枚石子,好美,晶莹剔透的,可是那是爱情,单纯的爱情支撑不了长久的婚姻和对儿女的责任……我没有嫁你,你恨不恨我？”
他拼命摇头,泣不成声。“是我不好,我没有保护你,给不了你需要的一切,让你受这样的罪……下辈子,我们做螳螂好吗？在新婚之夜,你吃了我,为我生孩子……死在你的腹中,我一定会很幸福的……” “不,不,我们还是做两只蝉吧,好吗？天天喝着露水,快乐地唱着歌……小心,小心,……”笑容迅速地从她脸上抽走,她大大地喘着气,泪水成股成股地流下,“快走,人来了……”
他回头看了一眼,露出苍凉而无悔的笑,“傻孩子……我们不是,要一起做蝉么？”
“啪!”一声脆响,伴着一声满意的说话,“哼,又打死了一只臭蚊子!” 他在死前的一瞬紧紧地拥抱了她。他们的血流在了一起,凝成一滴鲜红色的眼泪。
被逼戒酒
老爸每天晚上喜欢喝点儿酒，虽然酒量不大，但他很少贪杯。上个星期，我买了两瓶好酒带回家孝敬老爸。
进了客厅，见老爸正躺在沙发上看报纸，我忙把酒往桌上一放，说：“爸，你看我给你买了什么？”老爸一听，抬起头来，见是我，兴奋地丢下报纸跑到桌前，啧啧称赞：“不错，好酒，可惜啊！”我忙问：“可惜什么？”老爸苦笑着说：“我已经戒酒了。”我惊讶地问：“什么？戒酒了？你是什么时候戒的酒呀？”老爸不紧不慢地说：“我已经戒了好几个月了。”
我警惕起来：“你怎么会想到戒酒呢？是不是身体不好，医生不允许你喝了？”老爸说：“哪儿啊，还不是你老妈给逼的，她把我灌醉好几回了。”
我一听，嬉笑道：“老夫老妻了，灌你酒干吗？”老爸一听，气哼哼地说：“你妈把我灌醉了，还不是想套我的私房钱藏在哪儿，害得我的钱全部充公了。为了不上你老妈的当，没办法，我只好忍痛戒酒了。”
失 算
家里热水器坏了，朋友来喝茶，俺随口说了一下，顺便问问各家都用什么牌子热水器，性价比怎样。
大家七嘴八舌，有主修派，有主购派。
俺属主购派。机器已过保修期，请人来修，上门费、开机费、零件费，开支可观，且不敢保证修后能用多久。不如新买踏实。
李君却不插话，此时他与俺儿子俩人只顾低头喝茶。俺也懒得理他们。
趁我们说得热闹，李君使个眼色，俺儿子起身，两人去了儿子的房间。
片刻，俩人回来，儿子说，他们愿意承接修理。
笑话，他们愿意，俺还信不过哩！
俺呵斥儿子，让他去做功课。
见俺儿子败下阵，李君出马。此人经商有道，最擅洽商谈判。
他提出以50元购买旧淋浴器，修好后，俺若愿意，以300元购回，不愿意，他们自行处理。
大家认为可行，俺也觉得不吃亏，便同意了。他要签约，俺笑他小题大做，煞有介事，没搭理。
次日晚，李君换了随意衣衫，自带工具来到我家，与儿子卸下热水器，在屋里鼓捣。
俺在儿子门口观望，一个拆卸，一个递工具，煞有介事，竟当俺是空气，看都不看一眼，嘁！
约半小时，李君拎着拆下的配件准备离开。临走，俩人磨叽，让俺先付费，说总不能让他们垫钱买零件。俺听听有些道理，又被他们纠缠不过，竟掏钱付费了。
李君离开后，俺想想不对，明明该他们先付俺50元嘛。
电话追过去，李君说正开车，不便多说，让俺看看合同。
合同？见鬼，哪有合同！然而，是俺自己拒签合同的。
第二天，李君来得早，儿子还没放学。他便钻到屋里干起来。
俺才知道，动辄千余元、几千元的热水器，构造、原理竟如此简单。桶内不过一根电热棒，一根镁棒，一个控温电阻，一根导水管，再无其他。李君所做的，只是拆下电热棒、镁棒、控温电阻，照原样买回新的再装上。不拆不知道，一拆方知此物十分暴利。
儿子不在，李君这家伙再不能当俺是空气，打电筒、递工具倒在其次，若俺不施援手，他一人断无法将热水器挂回墙上。
侍弄停当，通电，上水，几分钟后水已温热了。
俺问配件花了多少钱，李君说，多少钱与你无关，这是我们施工方的事。
俺忙说，俺没别的意思，只想知道这东西到底有多少利润。
李君说派别人买的配件，还没算账。俺便没多想。
留他吃晚饭，李君说晚上有约会，可却耗着不走。
终于，儿子回来了，俩人眉飞色舞，好不兴奋。
李君掏出200元，给儿子100，说，工钱，你100，我100。俩人击掌相庆。
简直没有天理！
俺干得一点不比儿子少，只比他多，分工钱岂能没俺的份，反了他们了！
李君很轻慢地将一张20元的扔给俺，说，这是你的。配件一共花了83，还多给你3块。
士可杀不可辱！俺把钱摔还他，要他们偿付应付的50元。
李君竟不认账，说：合同呢？按合同来。这是你一贯藐视合同的代价。”
偷手机的年轻人
傍晚,在一个规模不大的快餐店里,总共有三个食客:一个老人,一个年轻人,还有我。或许是因为食客不多的缘故,店里的照明灯没有完全打开,所以显得有些昏暗。我坐在一个靠窗的角落里独自小酌,年轻人则手捧一碗炸酱面,坐在靠近门口的位置,与老人相邻。
我发现,年轻人的注意力似乎不在面上,因为他眼睛的余光,一刻都未曾离开过老人放在桌边的手机。
事实证明了我的判断。我看到,当那个老人再次侧身点烟的时候,年轻人的手快速而敏捷地伸向手机,并最终将手机装进他上衣的口袋里,然后试图离开。
老人的身体微微颤抖了一下,然后立即平定下来,环顾四周。
这时候年轻人已经在伸手开门,老人也似乎明白了什么,他马上站立起来,走向门口的年轻人。
我很替老人担心。我认为,以他的年老体衰,很难对付一个身强体壮的年轻人。
没想到,老人却说:“小伙子,请你等一下。”
年轻人一愣:“怎么了?”
“是这样,昨天是我七十岁的生日,我女儿送给我一部手机,虽然我并不喜欢它,可那毕竟是女儿的一番孝心。我刚才就把它放在了桌子上,可是现在它却不见了,我想它肯定是被我不小心碰到了地上。我的眼花得厉害,再说弯腰对我来说也不是件太容易的事,能不能麻烦你帮我找一下?”
年轻人刚才紧张的表情消失了,他擦了一把额头上的汗,对老人说:“哦,您别着急,我来帮您找找看。”
年轻人弯下腰去,沿着老人的桌子转了一圈,再转了一圈,然后把手机递过来:“老人家,您看,是不是这个?”
老人紧紧握住年轻人的手,激动地说:“谢谢!谢谢你!真是不错的小伙子,你可以走了。”
我被眼前的一幕惊呆了。待年轻人走远之后,我过去对老人说:“您本来已经确定手机就是他偷的,为什么不报警?”
老人说:“虽然报警同样能够找回手机,但是我在找回手机的同时,也将失去一种比手机要宝贵千倍万倍的东西,那就是──宽容。”
❺ 情节完美的经典爱情短篇小说
首领的小猫
晨曦（短）
不乖小兔子
蛇王选后：捡来的新娘
爷，我罩你
粉嫩夫君是匹狼
粘人相公
木头娘子风流夫
❻ 梅里美著名的短篇小说有哪些
梅里美短篇小说集 电子书下载：http://www.52eshu.com/Software/Catalog27/2336.html
短篇小说：
新阿玛狄斯
克里斯苔尔
回心转意
得救版
诗神之子
发现权
相辅相成
自欺
宣战
爱人的种种姿态
宴会游戏问答
相同的场所，不同的心情
谁买爱神？
告别
美丽的夜晚
幸福和幻境
鲜活的纪念品
离别的幸福
新婚之夜
捣蛋的快乐
十一月之歌
致选一的爱人
第一次失恋
回味
靠近爱人
出现
致远方的爱人
河边
再见
交替
中篇小说：
《达芒戈》、《高龙巴》、《嘉尔曼》
《嘉尔曼》（又名《卡门》），是他最为出名的作品。女主人公吉普赛女郎嘉尔曼，她就如天边飘浮的云，有种不自由毋宁死的气质！豪放不羁、超然洒脱、灵动美丽！这是一部很优秀的作品，值得一读！
❼ 世界著名短篇小说有哪些
001.《指环王》约翰·罗纳德·瑞尔·托尔金其他作品 《精灵宝钻》、《未完成的故事》
002.《荒原》T.S.艾略特
003.《傲慢与偏见》简·奥斯汀 作家其他作品： 《理智与情感》《爱玛》
004.《罗密欧与朱丽叶》莎士比亚 作家其他作品： 《奥赛罗》《李尔王》《麦克白》《哈姆雷特》（四大悲剧）《仲夏夜之梦》、《威尼斯商人》、《第十二夜》、《皆大欢喜》（四大喜剧）
005.《论人生》培根
006.《失乐园》弥尔顿
007.《鲁滨逊漂流记》笛福
008.《格列佛游记》斯威夫特
009.《拜伦诗选》拜伦 作家其他作品：《唐璜》
010.《雪莱诗选》雪莱
011.《简·爱》 夏洛蒂·勃朗特 作家其他作品：《教师》、《维莱特》、《雪莉》、《艾玛》（未完成）
012.《呼啸山庄》艾米莉·勃朗特
013.《大卫·科波菲尔》狄更斯 作家其他作品：《双城记》《匹克威克先生外传》《远大前程》.《雾都孤儿》、《董贝父子》《马丁·瞿述伟》、《荒凉山庄》、《圣诞故事集》
014.《福尔摩斯探案集》阿瑟·柯南·道尔 作家其他作品： 《遗失的世界》
015.《道连·葛雷的画像》奥斯卡·王尔德
016.《苔丝》托马斯·哈代 作家其他作品： 《远离尘嚣》、《还乡》
017.《华伦夫人的职业》萧伯纳 作家其他作品：《圣女贞德》
018.《牛虻》伏尼契
019.《月亮与六便士》 毛姆 作家其他作品：《刀锋》
020. 《艾凡赫》司各特 作家其他作品：《城堡风云》
021. 《汤姆琼斯史》 菲尔丁
022. 《东方快车谋杀案》阿加莎·克里斯蒂 作家其他作品：《阳光下的罪恶》、《三幕悲剧》、《国际学舍谋杀案》、《尼罗河上的惨案》、《罗杰疑案》、《无人生还》
024. 《时间机器》 威尔斯 作家：其他作品《莫罗博士岛》、《隐身人》
025. 《坎德伯雷故事集》 乔叟
026. 《1984》 乔治·奥威尔
027. 《查泰莱夫人的情人》 劳伦斯 作家其他作品：《儿子与情人》，《虹》、《恋爱中的女人》
028. 《蝴蝶梦》 达夫妮·杜穆里埃其他作品《牙买加旅店》
029. 《名利场》 萨克雷其他作品 《潘登尼斯》、《亨利·埃斯蒙德》、《纽克姆一家》、《弗吉尼亚人》
030. 《蝇王》戈尔丁
031. 《爱丽丝漫游仙境》 查尔斯·勒特维奇 ·道奇森 其他作品《爱丽丝镜中奇缘》
032. 《白衣女人》 威廉·威尔基·柯林斯
033. 《金银岛》 罗伯特·路易斯·斯蒂文森 作家其他作品：《化身博士》
034. 《天路历程》 约翰·班扬
035. 《卢宫秘史》 安东尼·霍普
036. 《阿格尼丝·格雷》 安妮·勃朗特其他作品《怀尔德菲尔山庄的房客》
037.《福尔赛世家》高尔斯华绥
038.《愤怒的回顾》奥斯本
039.《尤利西斯》詹姆斯·乔伊斯
040.《德拉库拉》布拉姆·斯托克
❽ 感动人的短篇小说
《最后一片叶子》