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Konu: Kısa İngilizce Hikayeler(Short Stories..)

  1. #1
    VaoXızır AliRengi - ait Kullanıcı Resmi (Avatar)
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    Standart Kısa İngilizce Hikayeler(Short Stories..)

    in this part we are going to share short english stories...

    (bu bölümde kısa ingilizce hikayeleri paylaşacağız..)

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    "ilmin sözü Ali'dir..."



    Zöhre Ana...

  2. #2
    VaoXızır AliRengi - ait Kullanıcı Resmi (Avatar)
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    Standart

    The Boys and the Frogs
    Some boys, playing near a pond, saw a number of Frogs in the water and began to pelt them with stones. They killed several of them, when one of the Frogs, lifting his head out of the water, cried out: “Pray stop, my boys: what is sport to you, is death to us.”
    -”One man’s pleasure may be another’s pain.”-

    The Dancing Monkeys
    A Prince had some Monkeys trained to dance. Being naturally great mimics of men’s actions, they showed themselves most apt pupils, and when arrayed in their rich clothes and masks, they danced as well as any of the courtiers. The spectacle was often repeated with great applause, till on one occasion a courtier, bent on mischief, took from his pocket a handful of nuts and threw them upon the stage. The Monkeys at the sight of the nuts forgot their dancing and became (as indeed they were) Monkeys instead of actors. Pulling off their masks and tearing their robes, they fought with one another for the nuts. The dancing spectacle thus came to an end amidst the laughter and ridicule of the audience.
    -”Not everything you see is what it appears to be.”-
    The Dogs and the Fox
    Some dogs, finding the skin of a lion, began to tear it in pieces with their teeth. A Fox, seeing them, said, “If this lion were alive, you would soon find out that his claws were stronger than your teeth.”
    -”It is easy to kick a man that is down.”-
    The Frogs and the Well
    Two Frogs lived together in a marsh. But one hot summer the marsh dried up, and they left it to look for another place to live in: for frogs like damp places if they can get them. By and by they came to a deep well, and one of them looked down into it, and said to the other, “This looks a nice cool place. Let us jump in and settle here.” But the other, who had a wiser head on his shoulders, replied, “Not so fast, my friend. Supposing this well dried up like the marsh, how should we get out again?”
    -”Look before you leap.”-
    The Lion and the Mouse
    Once when a Lion was asleep a little Mouse began running up and down upon him; this soon wakened the Lion, who placed his huge paw upon him, and opened his big jaws to swallow him. “Pardon, O King,” cried the little Mouse: “forgive me this time, I shall never forget it: who knows but what I may be able to do you a turn some of these days?” The Lion was so tickled at the idea of the Mouse being able to help him, that he lifted up his paw and let him go. Some time after the Lion was caught in a trap, and the hunters who desired to carry him alive to the King, tied him to a tree while they went in search of a waggon to carry him on. Just then the little Mouse happened to pass by, and seeing the sad plight in which the Lion was, went up to him and soon gnawed away the ropes that bound the King of the Beasts. “Was I not right?” said the little Mouse.
    -”Little friends may prove great friends
    "ilmin sözü Ali'dir..."



    Zöhre Ana...

  3. #3
    Forumla Özdeşleşmiş idil - ait Kullanıcı Resmi (Avatar)
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    Standart

    They saw Nessie!


    Loch Ness is 35 km long. It`s much deeper than the North Sea. Many people say that they have seen Nessie, the monster of Loch Ness. Here are three reports.


    On a quiet evening in July 1963, a Mr MacIntyre and a Mr Campbell were sitting in a small boat on Loch Ness. Suddenly they saw a very big animal. İt was swimming in the water. Its head was much bigger than a cow`s head. It was very near them an looked at them. The two men were very suprised and frightened. But they didn`t have a camera.


    But there are some photos. Robert Wilson had a camera in 1934. and he took this famous photo. It shows a monster`s head and neck.


    Anthony Shiels took a colour photo of the monster in 1977.


    In 1972 an American unviersity was very interested in the stories af the monster. They sent a team with modern technology and underwater cameras. They took three photos og an animal between 6 and 9 metres long!
    Konu idil tarafından (20-04-2008 Saat 12:54 ) değiştirilmiştir.
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    ''Kuran İmanla Olur.
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    İnsanı Sevmekle Olur..''


    Pir Zöhre Ana


  4. #4
    Forumla Özdeşleşmiş idil - ait Kullanıcı Resmi (Avatar)
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    Standart

    The FACTORY in a GARDEN

    Many people came to the new cities for work. They needed houses near the factories. But these houses were often very small and too near to other houses. And they had no bathrooms...

    In 1879, two brothers, make of cocoa and chocolate, left Birmingham and built a factory in the county near the city. They called the place Bournville.
    The brothers saw how workers in the city lived an worked. They wanted to make things better for them, so there were parks and garden near the factory. (Some parks were only for women!)
    And the brothers wanted to give people-and not only their workers-better houses, too. They buit houses, each with a brothers bult shops, schools and churchs.
    Bournville Garden Village is still there today, next to the brothers` ''factory in a Garden''.
    And the name of the brothers and their firm? It's Bournville!
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    ''Kuran İmanla Olur.
    İman Aşkla Olur,
    İnsanı Sevmekle Olur..''


    Pir Zöhre Ana


  5. #5
    Forumla Özdeşleşmiş idil - ait Kullanıcı Resmi (Avatar)
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    Standart The job interview

    The job interview


    Mike Jones, 20, is sitting in his flat. He´s phoning his mum.
    MIKE: Hi, Mum. I have some good news!
    MUM: Good news? What good news? Let me guess. You´ve won the lottery!
    MIKE: No, no, Mum. I have a job interview on Monday morning at 9.30.
    MUM: A job interview? Really? Well, good luck!

    It´s Monday morning and Mike is on his way to the interview. He´s talking to himself.
    MIKE: This jachet isn´t very comfortable. It´s too small. I´ve probably had it for three or four year! ...Oh, no! It´s starting to rain! I´ll go back to the flat and get my umbrella.

    Ten minutes late...
    MIKE: Excuse me. Is the 9.10 bus late?
    WOMAN: Oh, no. The 9.10 has gone. The next bus is the 9.20.
    MIKE: 9.20! I´ll be late. I have a job interview and I´m little nervous...

    It´s 9.35 and Mike is at the interview now. But the two interviewers don´t look very happy.
    MIKE: I´m very sorry I´m late. It was raining and I had no umbrella! I´ve left it on the bus!


    The interview begins.
    WOMAN: What do you know about our company?
    MIKE: Well, it´s a big company and... er... you make, er...things like telephones...I think. Or is it... TVs?
    MAN: What was your last job, Mr Jones?
    MIKE: I worked for a computer company.
    MAN: What did you do?
    MIKE: Customers phoned me. I listened to their problems. Problems, problems, problems! Only problems! They complems! They complained all the time.
    WOMAN: Did you work in a team?
    MIKE: Oh, yes. A team of 12 people and a manager. But I wasn´t very happy. We often had to work late. And the manager was terible.

    After ten minutes the interview is almost over.
    WOMAN: Do you want to ask us some questions, Mr Jones?
    MIKE: Oh, no, thank you.

    After teh end of the interview...
    MAN: Thank you for coming, Mr Jones. We´ll write to you in about a week. Goodbye.
    MIKE: Goodbye. And thank you.
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    ''Kuran İmanla Olur.
    İman Aşkla Olur,
    İnsanı Sevmekle Olur..''


    Pir Zöhre Ana


  6. #6
    Forumla Özdeşleşmiş idil - ait Kullanıcı Resmi (Avatar)
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    Standart

    The story of Wich Wood

    Edwaed Jorkens was a young man who lived in London. He went on holiday to a small, old-fashioned guest-house in Galway, in the west of Ireland.

    One afternoon Edward met a local farmer, Dan Breen, near a small wood. The wood wasn´t on his map so he asked Dan about it. "It´s Witch Wood," the farmer explained, and he told Edward why it had this funny name. Mrs Hogan, a poor old woman (some people said she was a witch), rented a small house there a long time ago. But one day she couldn´t pay. So the owner, a rich Englishman, threw her filled the garden with young trees. The old woman was angry and she put a curse on the place. "It will be a small wood in the day and a large forest at night," she said. "And if somebody goes into wood at neight, something terrible will happen," the old woman added.

    Edward didn´t belive stories about witches. So he decided to visit Wich Wood later and walk through it. It would only take a few minuts.

    He waited till it was dark and crossed the fields to the wood. It was very quiet there. The first trees were small. But then the trees got bigger and bigger. He came to a river. That was funny-there was no river on his map. After 15 or 20 minuts Edward Jorkens relly didn´t know where he was. He couldn´t leave the wood! He was lost. Then he remembered Dan´s words: "A wood in the day, a forest at night. "Edward thought, "I´ll have to wait till the morning. "He made a fire. He was very frightened. But he was tried too and after a long time he fell asleep. In the morning he was pleased to see that the forest was a wood again. So he left Wich Wood and walked back to the guest-house.

    In the afternoon he met Dan again and told him the story. Dan wasn´t suprised. "the last person who stayed in the wood for a night died soon after that," he said. Englishman, the owner of the wood," Dan told him. "His name was Jorkens, Michael Jorkens."


    (Adapted from: Peter Haining, ed.,Irish Tales of terror)
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  7. #7
    Forumla Özdeşleşmiş idil - ait Kullanıcı Resmi (Avatar)
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    Standart On a Monday morning

    On a Monday morning

    The first school shooting that was in the news all over the world happened in 1979 at a high school in California. On a Monday morning Brenda Spencer (16) killed two people and wounded nine others with a gun that her father had given her for Christmas. When a reporter asked her why, she gave a strange answer.
    Bob Geldof of the Boomtown Rats wrote a song about this. Listen to the song say what you think Brenda´s answer was.
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    ''Kuran İmanla Olur.
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    Pir Zöhre Ana


  8. #8
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    Standart Shooting at Pearl High

    Shooting at Pearl High

    Luke Woodham (15) wasn´t a popular student at Pearl High, Mississippi, USA. Only one girl, Chrisy Meneffe (15), talked to Luke sometimes. One day Luke asked Chrisy to go out with him. She didn´t want to say no, so she agreed.

    They went out together for about three weeks. Luke really liked Christy. But one day Christy told Luke that she wanted to stop. A day later Luke drove to school. He walked to where all the other students were waiting. Then some students saw that he had a gun. He said nothing, looked at Christy and shot her. Then he shot her best friend. The two girls died soon after that. He began shooting everywhere and he wounded seven people.
    Joel Myreck, a teacher, at the school, heard the shooting. He ran to his car and got his gun. Then he followed Luke and talked to him. At last Luke put his gun down. When Mr Myreck asked why he had shot the students, Luke said that the world was against him.
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    ''Kuran İmanla Olur.
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    İnsanı Sevmekle Olur..''


    Pir Zöhre Ana


  9. #9
    Yeni Üye kitty - ait Kullanıcı Resmi (Avatar)
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    Talking

    NASREDDIN HODJA DOES WHAT A HUMAN BEING SHOULD

    One day Nasreddin Hodja and a group of his neighbours were going somewhere together.They all rode upon their donkeys.When they came to a hill the hodja noticed that his donkey was sweating. He got down from its back and whispered into its ear, " I am sorry that you are working so hard that you are sweating."
    His neighbours noticed Hodja get down from his donkeys back and whisper into its ear, and they were curious about this."Hodja,what did you whisper to your donkey?" one of them aksed.
    "I told my donkey I was sorry he had to work so hard that he sweated" answered Hodja. All of his neighbours laughed, and one of them said, "Why did you do that? Donkeys do not understand human speech. They are not at all human"
    "I did what is expected of a human being. I do not care whether or not he understood what I said. What I have to do is what concerns me" said Nasreddin Hodja.

  10. #10
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    Standart

    THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE - OSCAR WILDE
    SHE said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."

    From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.

    "No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."

    "Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow."

    "The Prince gives a ball tomorrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break."

    "Here indeed is the true lover," said the Nightingale. "What I sing of, he suffers ** what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the marketplace. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold."

    "The musicians will sit in their gallery," said the young Student, "and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her"; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.

    "Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.

    "Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.

    "Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.

    "He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.

    "For a red rose?" they cried; "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.

    But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.

    Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.

    In the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.

    "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."

    But the Tree shook its head.

    "My roses are white," it answered; "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want."

    So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.

    "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."

    But the Tree shook its head.

    "My roses are yellow," it answered; "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."

    So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.

    "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."

    But the Tree shook its head.

    "My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year."

    "One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?"

    "There is away," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."

    "Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."

    "If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine."

    "Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?"

    So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.

    The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.

    "Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense."

    The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.

    But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.

    "Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall feel very lonely when you are gone."

    So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.

    When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.

    "She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove ** "that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good." And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.

    And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.

    She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river ** pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.

    But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."

    So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.

    And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose's heart remained white, for only a Nightingale's heart's-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.

    And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."

    So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.

    And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.

    But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.

    Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.

    "Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now"; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.

    And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.

    "Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" he cried; "here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name"; and he leaned down and plucked it.

    Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand.

    The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.

    "You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the Student. "Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it tonight next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you."

    But the girl frowned.

    "I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers."

    "Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it.

    "Ungrateful!" said the girl. "I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's nephew has"; and she got up from her chair and went into the house.

    "What I a silly thing Love is," said the Student as he walked away. "It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study ****physics."

    So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.
    sevgi ve sayılarımla...
    Bütün dünya bilir Türk Ordusunu
    Egemenlik kurdum yurt ulusunu
    Dillerde söylenir Allah doğrusu
    Cihana getirdim barışı sulhu

    Gökyüzünde uçar turna katarı
    Türkiye unutma güzel Atanı
    Memleket kurtaran bunca vatanı
    Her gelen gerçeğe çamur atanı

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