Vocabulary: Death

A Letter from God

My name is Hubert Lenartowicz, and this is my story. All the details in it are true. I hope you will believe me.
I’m 57 and I grew up in a family of athiests. My father in particular did not believe in God. In addition, he was a police officer in a school for traffic police, as well as a history teacher. In the communist era in Poland it was forbidden for police officers to believe in God or have any connections to the Church. It might not mean losing your job but it would be the end of your professional career. Even as a retired man, my father was critical of the Church.

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The Three Snake Leaves

Once there was a poor man with a son. The man could not look after his son anymore, so the son said to him, ‘Dear father. Things are bad here, and you have to work hard to look after me. Let me leave, and I will look after myself.’

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The Pit and the Pendulum

I was sick, sick with the feeling of death. I heard the mutter of those who had questioned me, the Inquisitors. I saw the lips of the black-robed judges, and they were whiter than the paper that I am writing this on. They were thin, and tight, and they whispered things I could not hear. I saw seven candles on a table beside me, and they shone like angels, but I knew there was nobody to help me. I thought how sweet death would be, and then the men around me disappeared, and the candles faded into darkness.

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The Hair Thief

It was a cold, wet evening in Kyoto. The servant of a samurai stood under Rashoumon, a big gate. It was raining a lot, and he was waiting for the rain to stop.

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