Devil in the Words. Книга для практики английского языка

– Come on, just quickly.

She put her English textbook on the table and pointed her finger at the words circled in pencil.

– Here are these, translate them.

Peter opened a translator in his browser and began to type English words into it one by one, the translation of which immediately appeared in the next column. The sister wrote down the translation, and then the sound of the word.

Peter fiddled with translating the words for about fifteen minutes, and completely lost the essence of what he was thinking about before.

– Thank you. – said the sister when she wrote down the translation of all the words.

– You’re welcome. – Peter called out.

Christina left the room and closed the door.

Peter returned to his book.

– Write a plot, or try to write how it goes. – he thought. – I’ll see what they write on the Internet.

He entered the desired phrase into the search and began reading manuals for aspiring authors, where they wrote about how best to start writing a book. Most were inclined to believe that the book should be written according to plan. This was justified by the fact that if you write without a plan, you can forget what the book is about, lose the plot line, and in the end, simply abandon everything.

– Well, okay, if I abandon it, then it’s not fate. – Peter thought, and opening the program in which he was going to write a book, he wrote the title in large letters: «THE DEVIL IN THE WORDS.» It looked impressive.

He took the mug, wanting to take a couple more sips of coffee, but the mug was empty. Then he got up from the computer and went to the kitchen. There was no one in the kitchen. He calmly poured himself some coffee and went back to the computer. The mood was working. Now, when the title of the book was ready, it seemed that the main work had already been done, and a little more, and the book would be ready, but not just a book, but a real bestseller that would sell millions of copies and make Peter one of the most successful writers. And then, for sure, he will have everything, a house, a car, and things that he wanted to buy, but could not, due to the fact that he was unemployed.

A dog ran into the room – a small pug that wanted to play. She grabbed onto Peter’s slipper and began to pull it from side to side, wanting the owner of the slipper to play with it.

– No, Motya, leave me alone, I won’t play with you, don’t, go play with mom or Christina.

But the dog did not lag behind. Then Peter took off his slippers and put them on the table. Motya sat down next to the chair and stared at Peter.

– I won’t play with you, just go. – he said, motioning with his hand for the dog to leave the room, but it continued to sit motionless and look at Peter.

Peter could not stand it, got up from the table, picked up the dog in his arms, and carried him out of the room. Having lowered it to the floor in the corridor, he returned back to the room and closed the door.

– Where did I stop… oh yes, the devil is in the words. – he said quietly, replaying all the previous thoughts in his head. – This will be a book about a writer. But this will not be just a book, it will be a real motivation for all aspiring writers who ever decide to write a book. Yes.

Having decided what the book would be about, Peter began to figure out where to start it. But absolutely nothing came to mind.

– The hero will be called Peter. – he thought, coming up with the main character. – Why complicate everything? The book is about Peter, who writes about a writer named Peter. Simple and clear. It’s like putting two mirrors opposite each other. Am I not a genius? Peter, who writes about Peter, who writes about Peter. And so on ad infinitum. One writer writes about another writer who writes about a writer. There’s definitely something to this. So, in St. Petersburg there lived a young man who dreamed of becoming a writer.

Peter wrote the first few sentences of the book. But the thought did not go beyond the idea. He sat for about an hour on the first paragraph, but still couldn’t come up with anything.

Deciding to pour another mug of coffee, he went to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he discovered that the milk had run out.

– The milk has run out. – he said when his mother entered the kitchen.

– So go get him.

– Give me money.

– Just give it, give it. How old are you now to still walk around with your hand outstretched and ask me for money? I could go and earn money myself.

Peter did not answer anything, but only harbored a grudge somewhere deep down. They were driven by dreams. He could not come to terms with the fact that he would have to work at a factory, live like everyone else, and be content with little. He wanted more, he wanted to reach out to Hollywood stars, he wanted to be part of the star society, part of those people who have yachts, cars, luxury houses, and who receive millions in fees for their works.

– Here you go, buy two bottles. – said the mother, putting a hundred rubles on the table.

Peter went into the room and put on his pants and jacket. Leaving the room, he took a hundred rubles, put on his sneakers, left the apartment, closed the door, and went outside. Sun was shining. It was the end of September. There were several cars parked in the yard. Children played on the playground, and their mothers sat on benches reading magazines and books. Some sat bent over their phones.

Having reached the store, Peter went inside. He took the basket and immediately headed to the dairy department. There he ran into a girl from his building. She recognized him, it was obvious, they had seen each other more than once, but had never spoken. She drove an expensive car, apparently worked for some large company, and had recently acquired a young man who visited her from time to time. Peter liked her. He would like to approach her, but he was very embarrassed about his situation. Now, if he sold at least one book, as he thought, and made money from it, he could call himself a writer, and then he could approach her. But he was unemployed, and her car cost a million and a half, no less, and she looked quite serious. She didn’t look like the kind of girl you could just walk up to, like some schoolgirl at a school disco.

Peter made an important appearance and walked into the dairy department. There he found milk on sale, for which he had just enough money, and took two bottles. He went to the checkout with the milk. His next door neighbor was standing there. He pretended that he didn’t know her. He just stood behind him and put the milk on the moving belt. The neighbor looked at him, she clearly wanted to say hello, but did not do so.

The cashier knocked the milk.

– Ninety-nine rubles.

Peter took out a «one hundred ruble» bill from his pants pocket and handed it to the cashier. She took it, put it in the cash register, and took out a «one ruble» coin from there, giving it to Peter.

Having taken the coin, Peter took both bottles of milk and went home. He carried the bottles in his hands, since he did not have enough money for a package.

Returning home, he put the milk in the refrigerator and immediately turned on the electric kettle to pour himself some coffee. While the kettle was heating up, he went into the room, took off his street clothes, and returned to the kitchen with his mug.

The water in the kettle was just boiling.

Having poured sugar and coffee into a mug, Peter poured hot boiling water over everything, stirred thoroughly, and added milk.

Leaving the teaspoon in the kitchen, he returned to the room and sat down at the computer, in which the office program in which he was writing a book was open. Only one paragraph was written.

Having tried to continue writing the book, Peter realized that he would not succeed. Then he closed the office program and went on a social network to read something interesting about writers. He was a member of several groups, one of which published his short, fantastic story based on a computer game.

While drinking coffee, he began to look through the pages of the groups, which had quite a few posts. But none of them gave food for thought, none of them gave ideas. Then Peter turned on the music and tried to relax to find some inspiration.

CHAPTER 2. First chapters

Morning. My sister was getting ready for school, rustling her clothes and backpack in the hallway. Peter opened his eyes and froze, looking at one point on the pillow. There was no desire to get up, and there was nowhere to go. At some point, he felt like a worthless creature who didn’t even have a job. He closed his eyes and after a few moments fell asleep again.

Waking up later, he stretched and reluctantly crawled out from under the blanket. There was silence in the apartment. Lowering his feet to the floor, he put on his slippers and went to the computer. Taking a smartphone with a crack on the screen, he turned it on and looked at the time. It was half past twelve in the afternoon. Putting the smartphone back on the table, Peter took the mug and went to the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. Motya immediately ran up to him. Peter did not immediately understand what the dog wanted from him, but when he reached the kitchen, he realized that she was thirsty. Leaving the mug on the table, he took the teapot and went to her bowl. Having poured water into it, Peter returned to the kitchen, added tap water to the kettle and, placing it on the stand, turned it on.

The sun was shining outside the window.

Peter opened the refrigerator and looked at the food that was inside, trying to figure out what to cook for breakfast. His mother did not like the fact that Peter did not work and constantly ate at her expense. Therefore, she put some products in the bottom drawer so that Peter would not take them.

Taking two eggs and one sausage from the refrigerator, Peter went to the stove, lit the gas, put a frying pan on it, after which he crumbled the sausage into it and drove two eggs into it. Closing the pan with a lid, he went to get a mug to pour some coffee.

My head was empty. No ideas, no interesting thoughts, nothing at all, just an empty desire to drink coffee and eat scrambled eggs.

Taking a mug from the table, Peter poured sugar and coffee into it, after which he poured hot water from the kettle, which had just boiled, over everything and stirred thoroughly. Leaving the mug on the table, he took milk out of the refrigerator, added a little to the coffee, put the bottle back in the refrigerator, and once again stirred the coffee, which was now with milk.