He triumphed. He was in the seventh heaven.
She loves him! Loves!
He heard it from her gracious lips - she told him that! And there was not a sign of falseness and lie, no room for a deceit.
He anticipated it, felt it with his very bones. He felt it with all his being. He knew that she was telling the truth.
Something that she was experiencing; something what was worrying her; something she was dreaming about; something she told him this wonderful spring evening - one which he cherished in dreams and awaited, one to fulfill his past dream, one which made him alive once again. As if to be born anew.
Silent spring evening …
He was saying that he has fallen in love with her, that his heart trembles when he looks at her, admiring, that he’s glad to have met her in this magnificent world. In this wonderful world he has met her - wonderful. World’s ornament, a pearl, a sunray.
He kept speaking and saw how a charming and mysterious smile has appeared on her face. And when he finally has stopped, he heard these words.
These words!
Great music, fine music - one from her heart.
- I love you. I too love you. And desire to be with you forever.
Words sounded gently and mysteriously silently - but not for him. He shouted it all loudly, having no fear or hesitation of his feeling. That way so all can hear him - to be heard by entire world. So that the entire world can rejoice together with him.
- I love you! I do love you!
Words soared high and widely.
That’s the way it’s going to be. He will sing of own love, fearing no one, feeling no hesitation for he has nothing to be afraid of. He loves her as well as the life itself. From now on he loves them.
It seemed as if heavens itself have smiled during this instant of time - smiled, blessing the love.
His voice versed highly in heavens. Casual passers-by were still continuing to look back at them, singing of their love. Some of them were even smiling.
And then they have been standing together for a long time, embraced. So totally close to each other. She has become a native one to him - a woman, close to his heart and soul. She was such a one even before these words, and not just after. For he did love her and not his own love instead, and was glad to give his love to another.
And they were running forward and forward, and fresh air was blowing in their faces, and the sun was playing on them. Much like the sun their feeling was shining in their souls, that of two enamored hearts.
And then a late evening came. Came so extraordinary quickly. And he accompanied her to her home - and said goodbye until tomorrow. Yes, till tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a new wonderful day - and they shall meet again, as always.
Two close to each other persons. Two similar hearts …
They have been meeting time and again - for days and weeks. Months. And every day gave something new. Offered the joy of talking with each other - dialogue without rage, anger and offenses, with no sign of pain - for the did love each other. Gave perception of inner depth of darling and dear one, powers for joyful creativity in life. Their life. Young blossoming life.
A year later they have got married - and lived together for three years. Three years …
And then he received a letter from his beloved. A touching letter. A farewell letter.
* * *
A man with cheerful and kind look - the sight of young man, completely hiding from random passer-by his already elderly age, has smiled sadly and put an envelope aside. Then, seventeen years ago he has received this letter of his beloved.
A farewell letter. A letter full of light grief and long forgotten memoirs. But - returned once again at reading of the message. He was reading through it, and tears were slowly sliding on his coarse cheeks. He was crying.
These eyes, crying so seldom, were now crying nevertheless. He was remembering: his former life, their love - and thus he was crying.
He hasn’t ceased to love her. Hasn’t ceased. And that is why he was crying.
After all, he sincerely believed that they won’t ever part ways. Ever. He was mistaken, cruelly mistaken …
Cruelly? But can he say that he’s unhappy for now? He has a wife - a wonderful and lovely woman, whom he loves as well and of whom he cares - as strongly as he once did in relation to that woman. He has remarkable children - a boy and a girl, his hope and joy - two suns, two miracles.
He is happy.
Simply … simply old memoirs still chafe his mind, tormenting his soul. He can’t forget … forget the day when he has received this letter. Tears were filling his eyes that day - same as now.
And she did cry as well … were crying while writing this letter to him. They remained as they are - her tears - on sheets of this paper, which he was holding so gently and quaveringly in his hands. What was she crying about these days? Of their parting? Of their intimate dreams of long joint life which had no chance to come true? Of their common love?
He didn’t know - she gave no response. Was only crying - and has sent him this letter.
The letter …
Here it is before him. Semi-erased lines and words. But it didn’t disturb him - he remembered it by heart - each and every word written.
Indeed, she has found another - the one whom she too loves very much and can’t live without - so she has written. She has fallen in love with another.
And does she continue loving him as well? Remembers occasionally with gratitude? He knew no answer - once again there was no answer for yet another question. Yet he distinctly knew one thing - he has continued loving her, remembering with gratitude. He was grateful to her - for all those bright minutes of life, which she has given him.
May she be happy with her new beloved, may all is going well for both of them!
Yes, let she be happy! He wished her happiness from the bottom of own heart. He wished good luck for that new man as well, with whom she has been living for now.
For he is a person as well. Much like he is. And thus he deserves happiness.
Let they be happy! Let all loving ones be happy as well! Let they learn to love, demanding nothing in return. Let they learn the giving love. Love like a sun.
Yes, - he has thought, - let it be so.
Let it be!
15.03.2012
- Mummy, mum, look, it’s the shop I have told you about! Let’s go there and you buy me that big transformer that I have asked, ok?
- No, sonny, you’ll get a transformer on your birthday – and currently we have no money for such entertainments.
- But mummy, please! I have begged you of that for so long. I want that transformer I’ve told you so much! He’s the leader of good transformers who are battling with Megatron, I want exactly him! Please, mummy, buy! And I will clear all my room, ok? Well, mummy, ok? Will you buy?
- Pavel, no. I have already told you – I cannot buy it for you at present. Only on your birthday. But now I cannot. I cannot. All right, and now let’s go buy some food. We shall make something tasty for a supper, well?
- All right …, - but there is was no way possible to tell by the voice of a kid that he would gladly tradeoff the possibility to possess a toy of his dream for one tasty pie or cake.
Mother – still rather young woman of thirty years and her son – one could give him five-six year judging by his look, - turned away and starting moving into the opposite from a toy shop direction. The child sighted and finally turned away his look. He didn’t manage to beg mummy once again, and this means that he’ll have to wait for several more month to get his favourite toy… However they didn’t manage to travel for long.
- Lena! Lenochka, is that you? – and some woman approached his mother.
His mother turned to face her and a smile appeared on her face.
- Olga! Hello! By what ways have you managed to be here?
- I am on a business trip. Public relations, business meetings. Well, you understand me, - and she smiled. – Well, and how are you living?
- Normally. Not so smartly as you do, certainly, but quite well nevertheless.
They kept silence for a while.
- After all, we haven’t seen each other for ten years … - for some reason his mother said this even somehow sadly.
- Yes, ten years … How fast did they pass for me … just like an instant. And what about you?
- No, for me it was not quick. They were interesting for me. Totally thanks to him, - and his mother pointed to him with a hand.
- Oh, that must be Pa … Pavel, right? And I remember him being a tiny child… - Hello, Pavlik, - said this woman and, having stretched his hand, added, - give aunt a hand!
He looked at his mother. She was smiling as if saying – “well, sonny, greet this aunt”. Then he transferred his look to the unfamiliar woman and slightly given her his hand. When she has taken his small palm into her own, as if some sort of cold and at the same time burning wave passed through it. He fitfully, sharply and awkwardly drawn his hand aside.
- Just look at how unsociably are we! – the unfamiliar woman frowned eyebrows and pursed her lips. – Well, fine, if you don’t want to greet me well – have it your way. At least I have no such problems, - she added slightly more silently. – Listen, Lenysya. I stopped here in one hotel for about five days. I could call on you somehow – let’s talk with each other, after all we haven’t met for quite a while, old friends, that sort of things, - the stranger woman smiled. Well, how’s that?
His mother reflected for a while.
- All right, - she answered about five seconds after. – I will gladly meet with you. Come tonight – I write down my street address to you.
Then there were digging in bags, searches for pieces of paper, specifications of address. He listened no more. When after ten more minutes his mother finally said goodbye to that woman, she approached him, winked and told – “Today aunt Olya will come to us. Be the clear head and behave well”, - and mother kissed him on a forehead.
He shuddered, when he heard it. He shuddered from the very thought that he must stand near this woman again, to sustain her sight full of hostility, and even greet and say goodbye to her again! Perhaps, he couldn’t explain precisely even to yourself of what exactly he disliked in that woman, - but already at the thought of her he was filled with disgust.
- I don’t want her to come to us, - he whispered.
- You don’t want? What does it mean that you don’t want? No, we cannot refuse her. Sonny, I haven’t seen her for much time, and she is my former classmate. I cannot refuse her offer!
- I don’t want, don’t want, don’t want it! She is a bad woman, I don’t want her to come!
- Stop it! Cease these idle talks immediately! Now we will come back home and I shall cook meal and then we will be awaiting her. And no but’s to me!
The child began crying. He began crying when his mother pulled him by hand and led home, giving no chance not to obey her desire. The feeling of extremely abandoness and forlornness overwhelmed him – as though the entire world together with his mother in a flash of time turned away from him.
They were going and going back home. For all road long he has been imagining himself how that woman continuously drills him with her gaze, and he desired to burst out crying even more strongly. When this painful and unceasingly long way has finally come to an end, and he entered their house, - he ran into his room, rushed on a bed and having closed himself from disappointment by a pillow and concealed himself in a blanket, went silent.
He vaguely remembered what was going on after. It seems, mother has finally found him in his shelter. It seems, she forced him to put on some awkward ironed suit. It seems, they have been waiting for the guest then. This expectation appeared painful – and when he saw before him the face of this woman with a fake smile on it, when he was forced to feel this ice-burning touch once more – he almost started crying again. Then his mother for long has been chatting with that woman. He didn’t listen to them – he was allowed to sit alone in the room (oh, how he was glad of that!). Only occasionally scraps of words and phrases reached him.
… hi! Here I am …
… ite?
… yep. This is my business suite. So, how do I look like in that?
… my, … what’s that?
… don’t look at a bracelet! Better look at these earrings…
… yes …
… yes, come in.
… oh, such close space … How … live like that?!
… how can. Not … ch.
… yes …
… faugh, away! Have gathered … ur creatures! I am having allergy on a wool!
Then conversation, apparently, became totally silent, so he could hear nothing. Besides, he didn’t listen too attentively – only loud sounds from time to time reached his ears.
… and?
… so what?
… oh really?
… and how are you?
… still the same?
… oh, never mind … what of you?
Like that it has been going for about an hour more. Then all went silent for some reason – and fifteen minutes later amazed voice of his mother loudly shouted …
- What have you done?!
… abandoned. Not a big deal or damage! Besides he … not … uired.
… child … left?! In … maternity home?
… have told – he was not required for me. But this … bastard survived … even … usage … pills! To go to do … abort … with friends … not. And …use … I … left him … there … some compassionate woman … take care … him.
… how … could you?! He … live … an!
… for me … who cares? Was … ive and will be live, if … taken care! I … don’t care. I … my own life … don’t want … waste … such … ids! I … still … oung. Figure … should take care. Well … you understand.
- … no understand! How many … yours … abandoned?! How many were left alone?! They must … ably … died!
- … well … left two … abort …made … three times. And … no look like that … me! It’s … my life after all!
Then his mother once again started speaking silently for some reason – and a minute later her loud voice made him clamp own ears…
- … from my apartment … not a friend! You … iller! Small … hild killed! Abandoned! Get away!
A noise followed and he, having looked out from a door of his room, has seen, how his mother almost pushed out that woman to an exit door.
…et away! No … uch … friend!
… ill leave! No such … upid … lf-sacrificial silly woman for me!
Several more seconds passed and with a roar the door was closed, showing the door staying. When he heard the noise of approaching steps, he rushed on a bed and concealed himself with a blanket. His mother came close to him, lifted up a blanket and strongly embraced him. She was crying.
- Forgive me … onny. I should have listened to you. You felt her better than I did. I … could not. I didn’t think … that … such a … ruel! … ve me, darling!
He looked at his mother. Saw these sad crying eyes, felt these warm hands, this overwhelming him love – and selflessly hugged his mother.
- … cannot … image … should feel … at child … was … being killed! … only … enter the world … was instead … ruthlessly … murdered! My God! What … for! Such … ittle … kid … killed!
His mother continued crying. He nestled on her even stronger.
- You … me … Will not … allow … to hurt you! My darling … Pasha … live … small … man!
- I love you, mummy!
- Sonny, I too do love you!
* * *
- That’ it. I clearly remember that day still, even though I was about five years old by that time.
- Have you not met that woman afterwards?
- No. And neither did my mother – relations with that woman were finished forever. Mother didn’t want to see her in our house any longer.
- Yes, probably you are right. How good is that you have not happened to be a “son” of such a mother! Because then I would probably have not ever met you in that world.
- And I too would never meet you. Yes, someone is ready to kill children – they are being killed each and every day. No one even consider how many people could be born – and has been killed because of feat of responsibility, foolish whim, because of cowardice, cruelty … Soon the motherhood and the birth of even a single child will become similar to a feat of courage … the most natural will become the “privilege of great people” … It’s good to know that there are still those who are not afraid of this “feat”, there are mothers. We were lucky. It’s a pity that others were not so. It’s worth hoping that people will rethink and understand, that all their “aborts” are murders. Justifications have no value – there is an act and there is a consequence – for the world and for the actor himself. And they cannot be changed – until actions themselves remain the same.
- Yes, I know, you are speaking the truth. But let’s stop thinking of that at least for second, ok? All right? And now, Pavel, take me by my hand. Stronger! Not listen to what I wanna tell you …
02.05.2012
It does exist – and yet it doesn’t.
It always was – but they preferred to keep silence of its existence previously.
It calls for you as something delightful yet forbidden – but few ones have time to feel its true bitterness.
It is so much similar to the constructed Babel tower, yet more and more are willing to climb to its top.
It grows outside and inside of you invisibly, braiding with webs all corners of your soul. And that is why so many consider it as nonexistent.
Its stench seems fragrance from distance, and its fire – lovely illumination.
Practically no one came back from it. And those few who did were humans no more.
So much has been told about it … yet this does not reduce the number of its pilgrims.
It never lived – and that is why it doesn’t know such thing as death.
It has been born along with the human. Will it be extinguished before him ?
Yes, it looks like a massive city. But this is a Dead City.
A city of former love, now long since dead. A cemetery.
Graves, graves, graves …
Each of them is unique - one of a kind. But do corpses really need to be unique ?
Tombstones - and inscriptions, inscriptions, inscriptions…
“Linen washing is so bad … start delight yourself like mad”, - as though the first squeals.
“A goat he was – a goat he is, no more loving, cease, cease, cease. Perhaps I’ll now just kill him, rather, - he’s always mine, never another !”, - threatens with all possible force the second.
“For how much long, for how much long you’ll have me in the bed, my pong ?!” - overstrains in the silent exclamation to the unknown listener the third.
“From own husband I have pain … but is new lover better gain ?” - uncertainly-shy longs the forth.
“Without family we have a lot of joyful, shining staff … who didn’t want us is just shy, so let them rot and let them die !”, - as though gives orders to dead ones the fifth.
“You’re rather damned, never cool – I’ll rather die than marry, fool !”, - dives in hysterics the sixth.
“All women are silly, but I am – the queen ! I can go right and left in sin !”, - categorically assures the seven.
“The less we love the women shit, the more effortless we hit !”, - share his deadly wisdom the eight.
“You had betrayed, I saw token ! Keep silence now, my heart is broken !”, - chatters abstrusely the nine.
“No faith, no trust, no beg, my friend, but carry insults through heart’s land”, - calls for humility the tenth.
“Love is like a dream – yet dreams die. Just money help us reach the sky”, - is proud of his cost the eleventh.
“I love myself, and that is cool. To love the others? I’m not fool !”, - secretly admits the twelfth.
“Gods gave us love and paradise – stop lying now, just rise, rise, rise !”, - frankly raves the thirteenth.
Graves, graves, graves …
This is eternal cemetery.
Almost everyone comes here before taking his true place. He silently digs cold dead earth with his own hands, and so silently digs in himself.
The ones who came here died voluntary. And those risen from dead looks like humans no more.
No one knows if there are resurrected ones. But risen from dead often wander the streets of yet living cities. And it’s impossible to put the pain, tormenting them, into words.
There is a legend that those risen from dead can only be cured by the one who made them. But few resurrected ones know different truth.
They know the truth of the Alive City.
It does exist – and yet it doesn’t.
It always was – but they preferred to keep silence of its existence previously.
It first averts you as something intolerably bitter – but few ones have time to feel its true sweet.
It’s similar to an ancient mountain towering among lowlands, yet less and less are willing to climb to its top.
It grows outside and inside of you invisibly, lightening all corners of your soul. And that is why so many consider it as nonexistent.
Its fragrance seems stench from distance and illumination – as its fire.
Practically no one came back from it. And those few who did were humans no more.
So much has been told about it … yet this does not increase the number of its pilgrims.
It never died - and that is why it doesn’t know such thing as death.
It has been born long before the human.
Will he once remember it ?
29.09.2010
- The storm is approaching, - the captain of a vessel has noticed, - we may be not in time. We should better …
- We will be in time ! – the Mistress has unceremoniously interrupted. – If you have obeyed me three hundred and twenty seven strokes back, we wouldn’t even be caught by it. I have been telling you, dolt, to the south, to the south we had to row ! And what did you say – we’ll go north, we’ll go north ! Sail now to the east, oh my ingenious one ! And don’t even dare to break a boat !
- Oh, don’t start it, - the captain got confused. – Just imagine, how beautiful the north is ! The polar lights, colds, stopping the blood, wind’s howl, making one’s lose his hearing, penguins on ice floes, after all …
- Yeah, penguins is an interesting topic, - I would like to see at least one of them live, - the Middle brother has interrupted the conversation.
- And I desire to go to the West, - the Elder brother said suddenly. Life is a way better there and people are more cultural, don’t swear like some other.
- So you’ll swim there alone, in your next life. If you have sufficient brains. And now we’ll sail to the southeast ! – the Mistress was becoming even more angry.
- Heck, to the south or to the east, make up ye mind at last ! – it was obvious, that captain was already starting to feel the rage.
- At first to the south, and then to the east, wasn’t that clear enough ? Or do you need an instruction for each and every stroke ?
- Dunno need, - the captain has taken offence. - I’ll somehow manage it myself, move away !
And, having this said, he has flopped on vessel’s prow and started to fiercely beat water with oars, as if waves of salty moisture were capable to extinguish a fire, periodically inflaming his soul.
- And where are we sailing now ?! – the Mistress has exclaimed both unceremoniously and pathetically five minutes after the supervision over this nonsense. – There is a north over there ! You have not even turned a boat !
- If you are such a smarty one, take oars and row yourself ! – the captain bawled. - You cannot even appreciate the help !
- I don’t want such “help” even free of charge. You all are just useless, I have to do it all myself !
And with these words the Mistress has taken seat on a stern, and started to make elegant pirouettes on water with oars.
A stroke. And yet again. And several tens of strokes as well. Whooowwwhhh ! – and a wave, which has suddenly rolled on a vessel, washed away half of stock, which was located there, having not spared even banal food.
- What have you made, asshole ! – the Mistress cried out. – All our emergency rations were there, for evil day prepared ! The last gifts of my mother were there ! Not for you, for my children all that I’ve prepared, by grains collected ! What a clumsy one are you, indeed !
- As if I had not did it for children ! – the captain frowned. – And, yeah, if that’s so important for you, you must have fastened it better !
- So I did ! Attached everything, tied it all up ! Who might have known, that you will be able to wash it all away in a single flash !
- The luggage was washed away by a wave, - the Middle has had enough time to interrupt the skirmish. – A man cannot command waves.
- The storm is coming, - the Elder has noticed. – I can already see in on the horizon.
- Just look at what you have done ! – as though not hearing him, the Mistress continued to exclaim. - Has washed away our stock, woken the Younger.
- Yep, yep, - the Younger brother sniffed from a boat’s corner, still opening his eyes. – Has woken, woken ! Bad, nasty !
… and even managed to water our cat !
- Miaow ! – said the cat, who has just got out from under a seat and started to lick own wet wool extensively. - Miaow ! – she has repeated once more and with a reproach in her cattish eyes stared at all the heroes of element’s triumph.
- You row in opposite directions, - the Elder has sarcastically noticed. - Are you planning to continue or going to stop right away ? The storm is already close.
- Storm, storm ! Mummy, mum ! Save, rescue ! – the Younger began to cry.
- Now, my little one, just a moment ! All these dolts have not even a slightest idea, that we must row to the south ! Only mum knows it all, can do it all, predicts it all ! She will help, she will rescue !
- Miaow ? – a stained cat has interrogatively stared at her.
- A storm, however, you haven’t foreseen, - the Elder hemmed. – Come on, let me replace you, - he told to the Mistress, - and unceremoniously took one oar. The Middle took the second.
- We will sail to the north tomorrow, three altogether, - the Elder stated, addressing the captain. – And now let’s row to the east all as one, - Middle has added as well. – Ok, let’s go !
A stroke. And the next one. And several more hundreds of them.
They have almost reached the coast – but the storm has caught them nevertheless.
It flanged the boat and began to whirl it, pouring with waves. It washed away another part of a luggage stock. It, finally, for the second time didn’t spare an unfortunate cat, who had already started to dry up on a wind. It struck captain’s face several times with its waves. It reached a stern with Elder and Middle brothers. It poured with water a screaming Younger one.
In short, it was rigid. But not omnipotent.
The storm has come to an end, and the coast has finally appeared. Just a two hundred meters. Just a leaking and dilapidated boat. Just a wet cat, rubbing about feet in a vain attempt to warm oneself.
- Retards ! – a Mistress has shouted short after coming to her senses. - Broken a boat ! Washed away the luggage ! Watered the Younger one ! I have no more powers, monsters ! – and with these words she has seized Younger brother and together with him has jumped overboard, strenuously swimming to a coast in a southern direction.
Three remained heroes of the day (four, considering a wet cat as a passenger) with the last bit of strength finally sailed to a coast, taking out water, accumulating in a worn out boat, in a process.
- So, where are we going to travel now ? – The ex-captain interrogatively looked at them.
- To the West, - the Elder brother said confidently. – Storm warnings are usually announced there in advance.
- Well, and I then, probably, will travel East, for the sake of variety, - the Middle one decided.
- So, well, if things are that way and my leadership is no more necessary to everybody, I will go, perhaps, to the north, - the captain of the broken boat noticed enthusiastically. – Always dreamt of visiting the north at least once in my ex-captain’s life …
P.S.
So, and how’s cat’s destiny turned out ? Living well, we guess.
Having jumped out in the last moment from her recent dwelling, which has broken on its way ashore, she has indifferently curved her back and, having caved in, has splashed from herself the rest of this inutile moisture, impregnated with salt of life, mewed few times encouragingly, and run, where the tail directs. Have granted herself to the new way of life.
02.11.2010
Today I have woken up extraordinary early - the sun itself hasn’t had the time to rise on the east. I am awake for almost an hour, and still unable to comprehend what has interrupted my blissful dream. Something keeps moving somewhere inside my breast and disturbs me. It’s strange. Never before did I feel something similar. Some unworthy thoughts are pooling through my mind - probably, Satan himself is trying to tempt me. I shall expel these thoughts of heresy - in the name of our Patriarch!
In vague feelings I turn on the light and the video - for a morning prayer ceremony is going to start soon, and we, Divine children, will unanimously incline our heads in these solemn minutes, and with all our hearts will bless His Holiness - modest vicar of our divine Father on this sinful earth.
As always I take an over gilded cross-shaped device and accurately press a small button on it - and this wonderful object, a gift of the God himself, which our beloved Patriarch has named “video display”, comes to life. As far as I remember, several centuries ago such things were named “consoles” and so-called “TV” were analogs of these “video displays”. However, I am not totally assured in this. I wasn’t a diligent student in our school seminary - and we’ve been taught very little of our past anyway.
Little time is still left prior to the beginning of a morning prayer, which will be broadcasted through these video displays to each apartment - each shelter of every soul. I must now consume earth food in order to saturate my body - and all my powers will be put in a spirit further to be a modest servant in this imperfect world for the sake of goals of our Sacred Father, may His name forever glow in the heavens !
Since the time, when humble servants of our Patriarch invented some magnificent way to almost instantly create food from separate substances, granted by nature itself, - we know no such thing as starvation, for a food can be made almost from everything in this world of ours. Truly, only the Lord himself could grant our Patriarch such great power over the world, truly our Patriarch is his deputy on the Earth!
I have had the time to sate sinful body and have almost dived into pure thoughts of that magnificent kingdom of paradise where we, humble servants of our great Deputy, are being led, when video display suddenly made a familiar sound - that means that morning prayer is about to begin, and we, imperfect creations of our grand Father, will be granted yet another possibility to purify our souls from inner darkness. If we are going to be submissive and love our Patriarch, then this prayer will give us indescribable joy and peace - for that’s the way it ought to be.
The prayer was wonderful - as always, it was amazing. It’s such a joy - to stand, having submissively inclined one’s head and listening to spellbinding church’s chanting, - and to feel yourself as a particle of something so much greater, something eternal. It’s an incomparable joy - to overhear a voice of the Patriarch when he welcomes his children and blesses them for the new day in this world.
When a chant has come to an end, I felt myself in the seven heavens - and soul of mine was singing in delight. All those guilty thoughts with which Antichrist have been haunting me this morning, have gone. Such is the way of things - for a true light, granted by our Deputy, clears and purifies our souls - and no harm or heresy is granted way to the door of our spirits!
For now my task is to travel to a central church of our city - and by just works of divine servants about five hundred of these small houses of Divine have been built, - to present my new creation on a fair court of its head Holy Alex II. He’ll read my newly written book - and, if it’s approved by his holiness, he will grant his highest goodwill to printing agencies to multiply this text, so that Divine children can taste its aroma and become even stronger in the just belief in the God, and our omnipotent Patriarch.
I am leaving my house and inhaling a clear Divine air with delight. Humble servants of his holiness Patriarch were able to invent such travelling mechanisms, which left air in its protogenic cleanliness, emitting outside no so-called “gases” and working on a solar energy, granted us by our magnificent solar star. Ways of our Deputy are inscrutable, indeed!
I am moving in a direction to the mansion of God, and joy is overflowing me. I already foresee my meeting with his holiness Alex, I foresee his blissful smile, I foresee how my book will help our brothers in their way of mind and heart. This is truly a wonderful day!
* * *
Oh my God, where did those hellish thoughts come from, may the Patriarch exterminate them all?!
Something is going on in the soul of mine, something very strange and unusual, something unclear for me. This is practically the same feeling, which have grown in me two days ago … some sort of vague doubts in fidelity of my own life and life of my earth brothers … Is even a morning prayer no more capable to purify my soul of these fatal doubts?
This feeling was born inside me after an appointment with his holiness Alex II the other day after I have given him the manuscript of my future book, so that he could tell me his opinion as well as his blessing for its distribution.
To give his blessing … he hasn’t given it! He not only hasn’t given the blessing, he was greatly angered and malicious … his highness was enraged … that’s impossible! That’s unimaginable! How, how can it be possible that such a great individuality was capable to fall from grace to the anger?! I didn’t trust own ears when he has begun his speech!
- Whether is it known to you, my son Peter, that by your … h-r-r-r-m-m-m … book … you ruin all precepts, given by our great Deputy?! - voice of his holiness was cold as a steel, some spiteful notes were breaking through.
- Father, how do I break his precepts? - I questioned.
- How? You dare ask me how you ruin his precepts? I’ll tell you, how! In that book of yours you mention that God himself was the maker of this world of ours, and you assert that our Patriarch is His humble servant. Our great deputy is not his “humble servant” - our Deputy is His son, the very incarnation of our Father in this world! He is the God, His embodiment! Whether it was not taught to you all in your church school, I wonder? Did you not learn that the word of our Patriarch is like the word of God himself, expressed through our Deputy, and thus it shall be the law for all divine children?!
- Your holiness, but how is that possible for a heavenly son to stand above his heavenly father? - I asked.
- To stand over his father? My son … - and his holiness choked - the father of ours is the Patriarch! He’s our father and the savior of souls of this world!
- But we’ve been told … - I tried to speak.
- You’ve been told? Tell me, my son, who spoke you all that things?
I mentioned mentor’s name of our spiritual school.
- I thank you, my son, you have performed a great service to us right now in a task of eradication of all … heresy.
I shuddered when he pronounced a word “heresy”. Heresy is a biggest crime, heresy deprives one of his inborn right to pass through a divine gate of paradise - so all holy churchmen told me … only my mentor spoke nothing on that subject. Why is he guilty in heresy, why?! How did he misbehave and broke divine will? And I asked his highness this question.
- He committed a crime by seducing divine children from their holy way, and is subject to be punished for this sin. We’ll carry out all necessary measures, - and his holiness made a sign for me to become silent and ask no further questions. And, having no power not to obey, I became silent … and that vague doubt started scraping in my soul once again.
Meanwhile his highness continued speaking.
Furthermore you state that for all sins made a divine son will be judged by his heavenly Father during a Sacred Court and “on their deeds they will be given”. Truly, “on their deeds they will be given”, but whether it’s known to you that our omnipotent Patriarch as an embodiment of the will of our divine Father was granted the right to either punish or grant a pardon to his sinful children in his endless favor and mercy in this world already?!
And then you keep writing: “… for only our unearthly Lord has a power over both real and unreal, and only His court is just and eternal …”. The court on the earth is conducted by our Patriarch! We, his humble servants, can only submissively carry out his will, which is also a will of our divine Father, having no right to ask useless questions on whether his judgment is just or unjust - for the judgment of our Deputy is eternally just and honorable, for he is the very embodiment of a God! Whether the cases are known to you … my son, - and his holiness choked once more, - when our great Deputy performed unjust judgments over his faithful children and servants?
- No, father.
- Right you are, my son. For his judgment is just and just eternally - forever it was, forever it will be, may his name shine in the heavens!
This very instant of time a blissful smile appeared on the face of his highness as if he has just seen the Second Coming of the Savior along with a retinue of divine angels. However, when he has looked up at me once again, his smile disappeared in a single instance.
- Yet this doesn’t forgive your … failures … my son, - and his holiness choked a third time.
- You speak: “… for there is only one great force in the world of ours and only one great treasure - and this is a love, for it’s a manifestation of our divine Father in our world …” - that’s a lie! Our power - is in our belief in the Patriarch! What other power do you desire except for it? Only belief in the Patriarch moves us forward and saves us, only such a belief aids us on a life’s journey!
“Your belief is a suppressed doubt”, - words came into my mind that instant of time, yet I constantly rejected these fatal thought away. His highness was now looking at me almost with anger, and his voice became absolutely cold.
- But not only do you constantly undermine belief in our most gracious Patriarch, you still try to make his children turn from a true path! You speak: “… and all imaginable customs, rituals and ceremonies would vanish, as if they never existed before … and men would pray in heart and not by heart - and an expression of this aspiration would be the love …”. How can all sacred rituals disappear in an instant, if they are prescribed to us by the holy Patriarch himself as a mean to become addicted to his eternal good fortune?! - his holiness almost shouted. That’s unbelievable, that’s unthinkable! That’s a true heresy, my son! And you keep writing as if it’s not enough! You undermine their trust in us, humble servants of our Father! Just think again of what you are saying … “… and all things of this world disappear and be gone, and will matter no more for those who enter the kingdom of the Father … and never were that way”.
You undermine their trust in us, humblest attendants of our father! Just rethink of what you are writing in that book of yours … “… and things of this world will disappear and vanish, and never be important any longer for the one entering the Divine Realm … and never did matter, for temporarily live in this world is, and as we enter it without a thing, except for the flame of our hearts, thus we do leave it with nothing except for the fire mentioned. And therefore all worshipping and rituals and everything used for it, and all imaginable earth cults matter no more …” It’s unimaginable! All those sacred rituals which we maintain are the greatest gifts, prescribed to us, with which we render aid to our faithful followers! We purify their souls, we, as the servants of the Father, redeem their sins, we rescue them from the clutches of the Abyss! How dare one not to acknowledge and recognize that, how can we reject a response gratitude of our brothers, granted to us by them in their restrained generosity?!
But you, you dare saying - “… for only the love’s fire of the heart can redeem the sin, and no rituals, no artifacts, no other terrestrial things … for they are transient, yet only the flame of one’s spirit and heart may burn forever …” - that’s a true misunderstanding of the way of things! Our Father granted us the right to atone for sins of our children that come to us, guided by their humility - and we serve a great purpose by releasing them from this burden at once, but you … you! … - his highness enraged himself so greatly that was almost choking - you dishonor all our kind, all our services, all our achievements! And for the last part - “… for our Father lives not outside, but inside each of us first and foremost … and He is the God, and He is the love…”. And He is - the Patriarch! And He is - outside, for only He is holy, and we are all guilty, and the God has never been living inside us! - and only He by the favor of His can rescue souls of ours, and we ourselves are incapable of doing such a thing!” - his holiness stood up and has been angrily screaming.
I still couldn’t recover from surprise, embarrassment, confusion … during that time that aforementioned doubt started overcoming me once again.
- I will overlook up to the end your manuscript … my son - and inform you of my decision in ten days. But don’t even dare to hope that I am going to give you a chance to publish it without some essential … modification … and, possibly, to publish at all. Besides, we will perform the inquiry with your … hm …mentor, as well as with you, - and he coldly stared at me. And for now go in peace, my son, - his highness regained self-control. - Walk in peace.
In confusion and doubt I left the temple. This was truly a day of sorrows.
Leaving the church I noticed how one of my brothers, who have just left the church, was approached by khanji - so we named the enslaved men-derelicts, who have been growing in numbers ever since our Holy Empire began a war two years ago. We treated them with great … favor … some of them have been granted a right to live in cities, yet they certainly have been living hard - however this subject was never brought up in the speeches of our Patriarch.
This particular khanji approached my brother-in-spirit and started asking him about something, apparently. And then my blissfully smiling brother without a second thought and hesitation kicked him with foot so strongly that khanji has been thrown aside and head over heels having swept on ladders …
I have been watching all this scene while my flynear - one the transportation vehicles, invented by confidants of our Deputy, working on the energy of a solar start, - was carrying me away from the spot. And I could no nothing to help the khanji …
A pain, immense and incredible stirred up in my soul that moment, - a sympathy to this little brother, being thrown aside, rejected, kicked off! - filled my heart. That very moment gave a birth to further painful and intolerable doubts inside me.
* * *
I had ten days before the new meeting with his holiness Alex II regarding my manuscript - and had no desire to waste them in vain. A pain, enormous, indescribable pain - it tore and crumbled my heart. I didn’t understand - had no ability to! - how is that imaginable for my brothers to be so … so … cruel - how? why? what for?
All the grace has gone to free the road for the pain. And after the pain doubts followed.
I have heard earlier about that Holy War, that great war, that just crusade. Still remembered how the Patriarch addressed us all … how loftily did he speak about those under-humans with no faith in the Father that we were fighting with … of those murderers … of those sinners. He said that by killing their bodies we save their souls … I trusted his words that time - I cannot deny the faith in my Patriarch ! - but now … after the event with that khanji - I started to doubt. Hour after an hour, day by day that cursed doubt has been growing - I could sleep no more, I rushed in nightmares during sleepless nights. I oversaw hundreds of those poor khanji - and legions of holy brothers dressed in white robes, slaughtering them with a single blow of maces, shouting “in the name of the Patriarch!”, instantly making a cross sign - and marching on further, further, further …
And then I woke up, having no more powers to behold that massacre. And then I reflected.
Ten days after I once again came before the eyes of his holiness - and there was not a slightest sign of joy, shining in my eyes. As well as in his.
- We found your … teacher … my son - and his highness choked a thousand time. - And studied your manuscript up to the end. And now hear our decision! - and he solemnly raised a hand. - For the spreading of false gossips, for attempts to make our beloved children go astray from the true path and into the bosom of Antichrist, - a man named Chris is sentenced for imprisonment into the catacombs of the Cathedral of the Patriarch forever, up to that day when Antichrist will come for him to take his dark soul! The sentence is signed by the Highest Patriarch himself and is not subject for appeal!
I was stupefied. Chris, my teacher who has taught me so much in that spiritual school - he’s sentenced to imprisonment. Never, never, never in my entire life did I hear of even a single case of similar action … and now … before my very eyes … how is that even possible?!
- Escort the sinner! - the voice of his highness rang out.
And then they - several brawny men in white cassocks - pushed him outside. I didn’t recognize him - I would most certainly never recognize him should we meet in different circumstances - he looked like the former Chris I knew since childhood no more. He awfully grown old and hardly dragged his feet, so four assistants had to constantly jog and push him - there was a blood visible on his face. “Tortures?”, - a thought flashed in my mind.
- Teacher, Chris! - I cried out loudly, trying to overcome the noise of the strengthening wind.
He turned back. A weak smile appeared on his dried up lips.
- Peter, my sonny, is that you? They caught you too, yes? Forgive me, sonny … please forgive me … I should foresee that that will once happen.
- Teacher, but why?! Why everything has come to this at last? Did they … have they been lying to us all that time?!
It was still visible that Chris smiled once more with his not obeying lips.
- And here and now, my sonny, you have awakened at last, - he muttered, - and during that same instant a roar of the gushed wind silenced all other sounds.
I saw, how four men dragged my mentor somewhere in the direction of a building’s corner - I tried to rush for aid, only to have been instantly seized by same three men, dressed in white cassocks.
- Stop twitching, oh brother, - smiled one of them.
When several seconds after his holiness appeared before my eyes once again - I was surprised no longer.
- And as for you, my son … we must perform the procedure of … cleaning, so that your brain can become sacred and holy once more and not a single demon even had the chance to crept into it! - and he smiled. - Seize him! In the name of the Patriarch!
My entire world ruined in a single flash of time. Everything I trusted, all that I hoped for - everything became nothing. All was in vain. And when my … brothers … seized me - I resisted no more. That was no longer necessary.
“May the Divine will guide me forevermore”, - a thought came an instant before a weighty wooden club of one of white brothers landed on my head …
25.06.2011
They called us madmen at first. Either too brave or too naive to dare to fulfill what we have once conceived. Too big dreamers, probably. Cranky adventurers, tired of sitting in their cozy ferro-concrete stone jungles. They laughed to us in our backs when we have started leaving our new old babylons, these huge inhuman anthills, which have been oppressing our proud spirit within centuries. They sent damnations to those leaving, in depths of their hearts fearing to remain left alone forever. In the first days of the Great March they tried to make every possible difficulty and create all imaginable obstacles for the marching ones. Their hatred and rage were great. But we were not broken.
Man after a man, family behind a family, city next to a city, wave following a wave, our Great March has begun. In all four directions of the world people were travelling, leaving away places of their recent dwelling. We were abandoning our stone prisons – inhuman piles of enormous ugly monsters made of stone and glass, aspiring, apparently, to eclipse the sun itself. Without hesitation or regret we were leaving behind us dark silhouettes of infinite robotized factories, which have been poisoning the earth, water and air for many years and turned people into insignificant resemblance of machines, spiritually destroying them, sucking away their strength of mind and burning will for own transformation in furnace of monotony and commonness. We left there, in our bitter past, practically all we once had – everything that was enthralling our spirit, taking away invaluable time of our lives, forcing us to move inside a horrifying wheel of incessant production and consumption. Now we were travelling with light baggage, having taken with us only the most necessary for upcoming new construction. And much wasn’t required at all.
Left behind were inhabited quarters, stuck round the city almost like flies around honey, risen into the sky and awaiting their inevitable destruction skyscrapers of the ones-in-power, smoking by a smog factories, half-empty prisons, dilapidated churches. Everything that was the essence of the old man. Left behind were high city walls, enclosed with iron wire, black-red sky together with a caustic, suffocating air of “the only possible freedom of living”. All of these were now disappearing behind us slowly, unstoppably and forever. All of this was given to the will of the forces of nature – ones so much wiser than us, people. Processions were going and going, and it seemed that there was no end to them. But they once ended as well. No new ones wishing to change themselves remained. And then elements absorbed those who have decided to stay idle.
And those people, who have marched into their last new campaign, dispersed across the most remote corners of their motherland. Fast changing climate of their world allowed them to travel to lots of previously uninhabited areas and lands. And they started colonizing these new territories, being evenly settled on them. They were those first daredevils, or madmen, - whatever the word you like most, - who have begun the great new building. Who have made possibly, apparently, the impossible – didn’t subordinate to themselves, but united with the nature instead in a great harmony and beauty. Their pioneer settlements became prototypes of new movement of people which have once erased all borders of the states.
It was hard at first. Too habitual and blood poisoning were techniques of old construction, too much ridiculous stereotypes and prejudices tormented their consciousness, preventing it to fully open itself. Too mechanistic have already become some of them, - verified, lined, marked, sorted and packed. But despite all barriers and obstacles lying before them, they have managed to achieve almost the impossible – and their own children helped them with this transformation. Truly live, with mobile and open reason, rich and figurative imagination, they have shown their parents the most unexpected ways, dizziest designs, most natural forms. And work was boiling. Everything that contradicted the new opened by them facts of life was removed, everything that ennobled their spirit was glorified. And after that it was only a question of time. Truly immense have the Great Construction become, made after the Great March. And there was not a single live soul left in all around the world which haven’t taken part in it.
Life on the planet Earth was changing – so promptly and fast, as if being made in an instant between usual click of fingers. New deed demanded new men – and they weren’t slow to be on call. But all of this, however, was a completely new story …
18.09.2012
He opened his eyes. Both sight and hearing were coming back to normal, very-very slowly - but were returning. For many days he has still been recovering …
A push of hand - a sharp pain in the broken knuckle - and he has risen. He is alive and he will sustain - despite of everything.
Despite dregs in eyes and broken knuckle, acknowledging itself with a pain during each movement of hand. Despite hateful shouts and most severe abuse, flowing around. Despite the threats from his “neighbors”, which they intended to put in action if he doesn’t share his part of that skilly that was brought to them - so that they haven’t starved to death. Despite the methodical and giving a ring on an iron floor footsteps of the approaching guard. Despite the sun which he haven’t seen for such a long time … only the weak light beam of which he had a chance to notice in the mornings - a light, hardly passing through strong iron plates, sealing windows in this stronghold of grief. In this stronghold of sorrow … and sometimes, only sometimes - repentances.
“Chumbrik, fuck you! We’ll cut you on giblets! Do you hear me, bastard?! You’ll lick our heels, bough!” A shout came somewhere from a distant chamber and sank in the silence.
Resisting ones weren’t welcomed there, as well as loving ones. That’s why similar people were almost absent in these cells. Except for local authorities - and those who could prove with own blood that they are worthy of respect. For only the force did worth something here.
A whole year was required for him to prove own strength. To prove in fights without rules, ones, “accidentally” overlooked by that supervisor that was slowly coming through a corridor, rattling with chamber keys. Or, to be more precise, these battles were completely ignored by prison guard. One week ago there was his last fight - and after that he was finally left alone. He has proven own force for this year time and again - proven much more during this time span. And finally were receded - they have withdrawn from him like from an insuperable and indestructible stronghold.
“Dinner!” - a loud peal of a voice filled a premise.
Now they will be fetched skilly bowls - gray-greenish liquid with disgusting taste. However, a piece of bread was applied to this liquid, and that was already fine.
This should suffice for approximately five-six hours. And then once again something similar will be brought to them - to that they don’t die from hunger. And so it goes on for a day, a month, a year … Nineteen years - nineteen long years he should remain here. Nineteen twentieth of his term.
Here comes the inspector. Now a food would be brought - he will sate himself with this pity piece of bread and a bowl of liquid stinking of slops and feel easier.
His organism will take many days to heal its wounds … It will take nineteen years for him until a day of freedom finally comes.
Here comes a meal. A bowl was pushed to him through a cut out crack in the bottom of a chamber’s door.
For some reason the inspector continued standing, thought it was already the time for him to go to new chambers. One second, two, three … five …
“Prisoner Skalov, your wife has come to visit you. We will guide you to a meeting room”.
Simple human words, which have lifted his spirit on pleasure tops. It was such an immense joy for him now - to once again meet a close person in this house of loneliness, loneliness among hundreds and hundreds of people … His prison cell was slowly opened - the guard immediately pressed him against the wall and started quickly putting on handcuffs. He didn’t resist.
“Do your job, guys. It’s your work. Play your part”, - thoughts have flown in his head, remaining unexpressed. And what for? - prisoners aren’t talked to - they are given orders and are compelled to their execution. Almost like in the army, yet worse - for disobedience - a bitting to semideath follows. Or to the death - that’s unimportant. A phrase in official report will state - “has committed suicide” - in a chamber without even a single sharp object. It was possible to commit suicide there only having broken one’s head against the wall …
He was moving through a corridor, led by prison guards, and his soul was singing in joy. A joy for the first time for many-many days. For how truly long he hasn’t felt that sensation …
- Luydochka, my beloved! Dear one, how did I miss you!
- Pasha, dear! Thanks God, you are still alive! What’s wrong with you? Have you battled again? Oh, fighter, when you will stop these fights at last?! They are going to kill you one day!
- I cannot do that, Luyda, I cannot. I had no right to refuse a fight. You know … I wouldn’t survive that way …
- Pasha, dear, I beg of you - remain alive. Dear, beloved … if they kill you, Pasha, I wouldn’t survive that. Dear, nice, don’t leave me alone, keep yourself live - I beg you! I beg! I love you, Pasha!”
She nestled face to a plastic bulletproof fence that divided them, and started crying. His beloved woman. His significant other …
She was crying and her tears slowly did flow by a glass wall, leaving a pure transparent trace. He nestled his own face to a transparent wall too and was looking at her. A security guard, observing their meeting, has moved forward at first - according to the rules talking ones should keep the distance of at least two meters from a dividing wall - but then suddenly gaging somehow and slowly inclined a head downwards. Some people remained men even here.
And then they kissed transparent plastic, imaging as if they were kissing each other. Scattered hands and touched a transparent window, trying to embrace each other. They were kissing and embracing each other - and couldn’t do that. Have been divided with a wall from now on - divided with impenetrable wall for a long period of twenty years from that very familiar day …
- Do you remember that day, Pavel? I still cannot forgive myself for it - for you. Unable to forgive myself for your destiny …
- Stop it, Luyda. I have chosen that way myself, and whether I could choose differently? I have made that choice myself - and I am ready to bear a full responsibility for that. I have killed a man. I am guilty - and should be punished.
Indeed, they both remembered that day, remembered very clearly, each and every detail - in spite of the fact that more than a year has already passed since that moment. And nineteen more should pass before it will be possible to expel it definitively and forget - forget forever. Like a horror, a dream, a delusion.
Which, unfortunately, wasn’t a delusion at all …
Images slowly recurred in memory. That memorable day which have given a start to his new life here - a life that has begun after a short judicial proceedings and sentence.
Like bright flashes are these images. Sparkling and fading away …
They were returning back home from a holiday by foot … These guys jumped out of nowhere. There were two of them. One was bearing a knife in hand, the second one possessed a pistol.
“Hey, you, stand still! Drop purses on the ground, quickly! Rings, earrings, throw everything! Quickly, I’m telling ya, if you dunno want to get a bullet in ye head!” - a guy armed with a pistol cried out, having set it on them. A second one run up from behind and seized his wife, putting a knife to her throat. The one with a pistol was probably bluffing, but the second one definitely did not. “The young lass doesn’t look bad! I’ll have to fuck her a bit later. Don’t twitch ye, darling! It won’t take long, hah …”
A scared children’s shout of his wife, with a storming roar rushing into his ears …
He hesitated no longer. A blood of the soldier, who have survived the Afghani war, was boiling in him … he ceased to hear any longer … he ceased to feel the surroundings. Only the sensation, that strange sensation of the tested and survived fighter, allowing one to distinguish the incoming danger, - only it has become his guide in these instants of time …
Like bright flashes are these instants …
A kick - a pistol, pointing to him, flies off aside. Another blow - and a man holding a gun falls down and bent on the ground.
A short amazement on the face of the second guy, who has already started undressing his wife and put aside his knife from her throat for a while. Here the knife slowly moves back to her throat again …
Jump. A hand holding a knife, intercepted in the air. All three fall to the ground.
“Biiiiiitttttccccchhhhh!” - a shout, picked up by air.
A flashing iron once more - the guy managed somehow to get away a second knife. His hand, moved for interception of a strike … Too late.
A blow. Desperate shout of his wife, full of agony and pain.
“N o o o !!” - his shout of despair.
A blow. A blow. The guy screams from pain, one of his knifes flows off from hands. A struggle. Fighting on the ground. They have swept away, having seized each other.
His wife remained lying motionlessly …
Ten seconds, twenty. The guy was trying to stick his knife into him - their hands were struggling for life …
A blow. Attacking one finally managed to reach him with the edge of knife. He twisted from pain, but hasn’t ceased fighting …
Thirty seconds …
Drops of blood, exuding from his wound and generously watering the ground … Capture. Procollar of a hand holding a weapon - he wanted to beat a knife off from enemy’s hands. Blade was slowly turning towards lying below him attacker - now it will become possible to take the hand away and beat out a knife from opponent’s hands … without weapon the attacker ceases to be a fighter. Let them escape - he is not even going to pursue them …
But the guy suddenly screamed something and started turning sideways, trying to dump him from himself.
A rattle. Heart-rending agonal rattle. Turned edge was stuck in the robber’s breast, when he started turning over.
“Bas … tard”, - almost silent words, which he has heard. And then silence has reigned.
Only a guy, recently holding a pistol, was still slowly creeping, and the one with knifes was lying still … But he didn’t want to kill any of the two - had totally no desire … Only to disarm …
He picked up a pistol and run up to his wife. Has kneeled.
Breathing … that means that she’s alive. Then he looked on a wound - a wound was on the right side under the rib - a blood was slowly pouring from it. Good. Not deadly. She has to survive, she must!
Then he picked her up, propped up on himself and slowly started going forward, bearing her. He has to pass quite a little. To leave this lane and enter a populous street, and there he’ll be aided - he must be! - by others. No, he matters not! It’s she who must survive. And he will manage it somehow - he has overcome even greater wounds!
And the pistol must be destroyed as well …
Picture changed. Now he was standing in the court, listening to own sentence - a sentence for murder.
He is a murderer. Even protecting himself and his beloved - he’s still a murderer. Even carrying a necessary self-defense - he has killed a man. But according to a court’s decision no self-defense has ever taken place.
A second survived attacker has informed law enforcement department of the accident. Naturally - the way he wanted it to look like - there were no witnesses for a fight. And even words of his wife and her wound weren’t proof enough - she was unconscious according to her own words and didn’t see a final part of fight. And considering the wound … the wound can made by her husband as well, instead of the attacker … especially if his fingerprints left on the knife has to be taken into account.
So did the court conclude - and has made its decision. Imprisonment for a long term of twenty years … For such a long period, for which he has to remain here. In this stronghold of grief … and sometimes - only sometimes - repentances …
Images have gone out. He was standing close to his wife once again, and she was still crying. And thus he calmed her. Assured, that everything will finally turn out fine, that this nightmare will end soon and he once again will meet her - his beloved - this time being free.
Then he smiled - didn’t want her to see him despaired. And had no wish to despair himself. They continued talking for quite a while - until security guard hasn’t demanded a termination of their conversation. Then they were separated until a next meeting. She will once again come to him as soon as she’s allowed to - as soon as a minimal time span between visiting will pass … approximately in two months.
She will come once again - his second half, his beloved, his personal sun.
And he will come as well into her world, after these longest twenty years. He will come when a wall, separating them, will turn to ashes. And nothing forevermore will divide them! This is worthy of his return! A world behind this fence is worthy of entering into it once again. And he will return back to start a new life - in bright and solar - new world.
After almost quarter of a century he will embrace this solar world and smile. And rejoice his living.
16.02.2012
- There is a legend, - the Wiseman smiled, - of the Divine Island, inhabited by singing Angels, where, seemingly, even the time ceases its movement. We transfer it to our warriors from one generation to another, and each and every year several brave ones stand out from the crowd, willing to find this true miracle.
- Have anyone of them achieved it yet? - the young man questioned.
- We don’t know it for certain. Probably, many of them were lost in a journey to the Bridge. Possibly, even more decided not to ascend it and turned back, but, being tormented by feelings of shame and fear, decided to never return back home, having found themselves a haven in foreign lands. Perhaps, someone at last has managed to pass on the Bridge and reach the Island, but whether will they decide to come back to our usual world, if they have once tasted that mysterious heavenly beauty? And, besides all other things, the very living on that Island should have transformed them so much that lots of people would certainly not be able to recognize them, renewed, even if they returned to our habitual home.
- And what is that wondrous Bridge that you have mentioned? - curiosity and genuine interest were shining in the eyes of the young warrior.
- Would you like to hear the legend of the Divine Island? - smiled the Wiseman.
- Yes! - the young man ardently answered him.
- Well, then listen and remember it well!
* * *
- This Island is not marked on any of earth maps, yet it still exists. Many say that it’s too majestic for the foot of mere mortal to step on its surface … others do argue that only those who have passed mysterious trials are given this unique chance and joy. Probably, someone would compare this island to an earthly paradise and would surely be mistaken, for his ideas of paradise are too superficial and ambiguous.
- And where is this Island located, in what overseas lands?
- It’s far and still close to you at the same time. And the first thing required for each of the warriors marching in a journey, is the Intuition.
- And what in fact is that Intuition, and how can one find it inside himself?
- The voice of Intuition can only be heard when mind of yours becomes silent and heart of yours starts speaking. The first steps are always made with Intuition, therefore those who have chosen a wrong direction initially, may never find the Island, even if they will have been traveling through many foreign lands throughout their entire life.
- But are those still able to once hear the voice of their Intuition, and curtail to the right path?
- Certainly, if they will manage to suppress inner whispers of own Arrogance.
- And what happens with those who once choses the right way?
- In the beginning of their journey to the Island they have to pass through the Wood of Life Difficulties.
- And what is that - the Wood of Life Difficulties?
- It’s a mystical forest full of growing trees, which people have agreed to call among themselves no other way than Problems.
- And why did you call this wood mystical?
- The fact is that every traveler sees this wood its own way. Someone cannot distinguish among never-ending stream of trees the wood itself, while another practically doesn’t see any trees at all. This wood is live, it possesses its own reason and behavior, and is capable of changing and transformation of itself according to each wanderer in compliance with his World-Outlook. That’s why for some it seems as dark and gloomy, with a set of various clinging foot snags, fenny bogs, burdock and nettle thickets, while for the rest it becomes a bright and sunny wood with joyfully-rustling trees, ever-singing birds and juicy berries, growing here and there under their feet.
- And why one has to overcome this wood on his journey to the Bridge at all? Cannot we simply bypass it somehow?
- One has to pass through this entire wood so that he can accumulate enough Wisdom, without which it will be extremely difficult to journey to the end.
- And what is awaiting us further, after the wood? Probably the very Bridge to the Island itself?
- Oh, certainly not! - the Wiseman smiled good-naturally. - Just behind the wood the River of Time keeps flowing.
- What a strange name for the river! And who have decided to call some usual river so pathetically?
- Oh, if only it was some common river! But no, it’s even more surprising than the Wood of Life Difficulties itself.
- Most probably, it’s very wide and filled to the bottom with some sort of predatory fish like piranhas? - the young man cheerfully burst out laughing. - Nevertheless, it’s probably not too difficult to cross it by swimming.
- No sort of predatory fish is ever present there, - the Wiseman unexpectedly replied firmly. - To be bitten for feet by some pity piranhas - it’s such an insignificant trial! It’s much more uneasy to feel the Link of Times under own feet and pass the river, leaning on it.
- But what’s that - the Link of Times?
- The rope bridge, connecting two sides of the river, is called that way. This bridge is very, very, extremely ancient and old, for it has existed there since the most ancient eras, connecting the times. Waves of time of that river are lapping under it, sprinkling it with myriads of water drops and consequently during all the time of its existence the bridge has become extremely slippery. Inexperienced and self-assured traveler can easily slip on its boards and fall down to the river.
- But is that not possible to get out of river back on the coast and start everything anew? - the young man was surprised.
- Alas, but as soon as the man gets caught into the raging whirlpool of that river, the time starts flowing for him so quickly and uncontrollably, that, when he will finally manage to swim to the coast, he can have already become elderly aged man, and thus will possess neither the forces, nor time or desire to move through the river any further.
- But how is it possible not to stumble on that bridge through the River of Times? How can I truly feel the bridge under my feet?
- The feel underfoot the link of times means to understand that behind the last instant there will be a following, and behind the current there was previous one. We were forgetting the previous instant and never knew the following, but that doesn’t mean that there was no previous, and the following would never come true. To understand that means to feel the link of times, and, feeling it, not to slip. To understand the rapidity of time and the value of each given to us instant means to cross the bridge over the River of Times.
- All that is so uneasy! - the young warrior sighed. - Well, and what is awaiting us after the River of Times? Now it will probably be that main Bridge at long last?
- No, before reaching the Bridge on the Island, one still has to travel through the entire Desert of Loneliness.
- Sounds very terrifying! - exclaimed the young man.
- In the Desert of Loneliness each man remains alone with himself. In the Desert of Loneliness he is being tormented by his own demons, over whom he still haven’t totally prevailed in course of own life. Demons of Fear, Doubt and Grief are being encountered there more often than others. It seems to the traveler that he is left alone and abandoned to the mercy of fate, though it’s his fate itself that leads him through this scorching desert. Demons are constantly tormenting him, trying to make him fall in despair and curtail from own path, for they do clearly know how very close is the final goal of the traveler. The sun of reason do constantly burn down his skin, poisonous scorpions and snakes of evil thoughts endlessly crawl under his feet. There is a lonely Oasis of Hope in that desert, yet one can reach it only by the end of the day, when your forces are practically extinguished, yet there is a faith in a miracle living deep inside your soul. Those who have reached the Oasis are granted the good fortune of Strength of Spirit, which is so greatly required for the ascension on the Bridge. From the Oasis to the Bridge there lies two more days of travelling through the desert.
- But how must the traveler move under the scorching sun for two whole new days? This is a pure suicide mission! - the young man cried out.
- By noon of the third day the Angel from the Divine Island comes to a half-dead traveler. He covers him from burning beams with his snow-white wings, helping to restore his forces.
- And how did you manage to learn all that? - the young man was feeling himself uneasy. - After all you must have never seen even a single Angel in your entire life! - he exhaled.
- So says the legend, - the Wiseman smiled. - And besides all that, there are still few ones living in our world, who have once met Them face to face one way or another.
- And what occurs then?
- And then the desert once comes to an end, and the man comes to the Bridge.
- That very one, leading to the Island?
- Yes, that very one! It’s said that the Divine Island lies in the middle of Ocean of Life and is surrounded with high rocks, hiding what lies inside them from eyes of strangers. The only way for those daring to get on the Island is to pass on the Bridge alone. The Bridge gradually rises up, ascending higher and higher from the rocky foothills banding the desert directly to the center of the Island. It’ said that there is a cave in the rocks through which it’s possible to enter the valley in the center of the Island, - but one can reach the cave only by passing the Bridge.
- Well, if the traveler managed to reach the Bridge at last, then it would not be difficult at all to overcome the rest of his path! - the young man sighted cheerfully.
- Oh! - the Wiseman answered with irony, - if only it was that way! The truth in fact is that all the previous trials were only the preparation for the last step. The entrance to the Bridge is being guarded - protected by a huge and terrifying many-headed and almost invincible hydra. This hydra possess many thousands of heads, breathing poisons of envy, sulfur of contempt, fire of irritation, squealing and abusing the warrior in thousands and thousands of voices in many ways. It’s almost immortal, because as soon as you have overcome in verbal duel one of her heads, another one immediately grows on its place, being even more awful and terrible than the former one. So, envy transforms itself into cruelty, contempt becomes hatred, and irritation turns into anger, and from the endless abuse your very ears can wither easily.
- What is the name of that monster?! - the young man exclaimed in horror.
- It’s called no less than Public Opinion, - replied the Wiseman. - After all, if one desires to reach his most cherished and pure dream, he must once overcome the most rough and condemning Public Opinion. The truth is in fact that despite almost full invulnerability of this monster, the traveler can nevertheless ascend the Bridge, because this monster with his entire external dreadfulness isn’t capable to cause any harm until he is engaged into the fight by the will of the traveler, who have forgotten the true purpose of his journey.
- But how is that possible to evade this monster? - the young man was surprised.
- One must simply … pay no attention to it! - the Wiseman burst out laughing. - This monster is being fed by the very surpluses of human attention, and by such emanations he finds his next victims. Those who desire too much attention, risk to become too dead sometimes.
- Wow! - the young man exclaimed, being struck by what he has just heard. - How simple and difficult at the same time is all that!
- Those who managed to pay no attention to abuse and rage of those aspiring to lead them away from their cherished dream, pass by a monster and step on the Bridge, starting to rise by Steps of the Way.
- And what do these Steps look like?
- The legend says that they are unique for each and every traveler. They can vary in quantity and distance between each of them. Each step is like an unforgettable instant of time, a moment stretched to infinity in eternity. Each step is one of the most important lessons given to the one on his Way, what he is truly lacking and for what he has once started his journey. It’s sort of fixing of what has been learned previously.
- And then what?
- And then the traveler sees under his feet the storming ocean and steps, leading him afar, and the sun, shining on him. It happens from time to time that the distance between the steps becomes too long, so it’s impossible to neither pass, nor jump over them in a usual way to keep moving.
- But how is that even possible to overcome such a distance then?
- And for this task there must be a Faith living inside you. Only having the Faith can you step into the air between the steps and not to fall down to the ocean, raging far below. Arguments of mind never help here, common knowledge becomes useless, and no usual earth skills or abilities are of any aid either. Walking on the Bridge, you are being transferred into a totally another dimension, and is being changed with each and every step on it, returning back to your true nature. This is your true awakening.
- Well, and then?
- And then you pass through the Cave of Resurrection, cut down in rocks, stepping on the land of the Divine Island. You can call it as the Island of Pure Dream, if you desire. I dare not to describe this Island even with the words of legend, for so it’s surprising and magnificent!
- Whoooh, what a journey! - exclaimed the young man as soon as the Wiseman has finally gone silent, cheerfully and with love in his eyes looking at his so attentive and grateful listener.
- And what will happen with those who have finally managed to reach the Divine Island? What new unforgettable adventures and encounters are waiting for them ahead?
- And this is, oh my attentive friend, - and Wiseman happily patted the young man’s shoulder, - will be a whole another story!
11.07.2012
“Hey, you, there!”, - a shout came from behind.
A little boy of twelve or thirteen years - almost teenager - darted off and ran away. They, no doubt, will chase him - will chase a thief … He had to come off - by all means possible. A pair of quarters - and a saving entrance there … a saving cellar, where he can lie down and hide - to hide until his organism will not demand a share - a share of food and … something that aided him to pass away these painful days of loneliness. His life without a roof over a head, with no parents, almost with nothing - a life all way along with himself and with what he is going to buy for the stolen money. He opened stolen bag on a move … a wallet … one … two … three coupons … two thousands of roubles! These people were certainly going to purchase something today. What a hellish disappointment - they won’t … but he most definitely will!
He turned on a run and almost screamed from a fright. The man was catching up with him - a distance between them was reducing slowly, but steadily. He in his thirteen years was no match for a healthy adult.
Two quarters, just two quarters and he is saved! He sharply jumped into lateral pass between houses. He has to foul the trail - then he can escape … then he must escape. Forward, all forward! My feet, help me – more than once you have already rescued me in street collisions - aid me just once more!
A fast-fast run along with jumps through the lanes, a single though, constantly swirling in a head - “I will make it” … Yes, I will make it!
A sharp head’s turn - a man catching him has come up from round the corner. He didn’t deceive him … didn’t … a man has probably noticed, where I have turned! He’s gonna to catch me now! One hundred meters … ninety … eighty … seventy …
Here it is. His own home. Home … or something that can be called as such with an immense share of doubt. Here’s his rescue.
He cannot let this place be discovered - it was necessary to mislead a persecutor. The recent thief ran away from this house into the next lane, a man - just behind him.
Now … upwards by ladders - then we’ll move down on a lift. Upwards, upwards! Tramping behind his back …
Just to be in time - just to get to his home unnoticed! At last … last floor … just a portion of more time to come off! The button of a lift, pressed against the stop … opening and closing doors, made of iron. He slipped inside.
Have I made that? Haven’t they noticed?
A ground floor. A choking teenager, who has jumped out of a lift - almost child … And running again - a desperate, on the last breath, run. Running for the rescue.
Here it is - his refuge, which has already aided him time and again from a hardship, from misfortunes and hatred of others, - rescued from totally anything, except for himself …
He ran into the house - opened and covered a cellar’s door. He has no time to barricade it for now. He has to hide, to show no signs of life! Then he will get a chance to deceive - he most certainly will.
Drops of water, dripping from a ceiling. A smell of something being burned, coming from depths. A teenager, clamped in a corner - almost like a child. Silent-silent breath in own palms - to not be heard. Rescued?
A slowly opening door … streams of light, which have illuminated and shined a figure on a threshold, his sight is directed directly to a teenager …
A smile? Is he smiling? He has finally caught him and is smiling now?! Probably in anticipation of forthcoming punishment …
A quiet voice, filled with internal dignity …
“Well, stop hiding there. To hide from others for all your life - you don’t intend to live so, yes? Come on, come here. Stop fearing me, why are you even stronger clamping in this dirty corner, as if it can serve for you as a rescue in this life? I am not going to abuse and beat you … you have been suffering already - more pain is not an option. Come on, stand up. I will even let you take a part of money that you have stolen. Maybe even all of them - if you are going to spend then reasonably.”
He’s calling for him to approach. A trap? Probably. Certainly.
But his voice rings somehow too warmly and convincingly. Other men didn’t speak that way … yes ! - they spoke totally different when they had caught him … And besides … what prevents him from just approaching and taking what has been stolen by force ? - and yet he doesn’t … still saying something … Will willingly let him keep all money? Oh, sure, I’m gonna to believe you right away! Such things simply never happen.
“Why do you still fear me? I have already promised not to cause you harm. You feel no trust … yes, you are too frightened and too fierce at present to start trusting people … but you will overcome this obstacle, you’ll see! All right, if you still do not desire to move … Then I will go down to reach you myself.”
He’s approaching … going down! No, that’s the end! He totally pressed himself into the dark corner …
“What sort of home do you have … And what’s that? A glue? Oh my silly little fellow, whether this muck can replace a real healthy life? All right, stand up. It’s necessary to hide in this murky corner no more. Stand up, I will aid you.”
Strong hands, which have now very accurately raised him up. He lifted own eyes with shyness to see the man and involuntarily admired. Courageous and fearless face … a smile, playing on lips … attentive and … sympathizing … gaze? As though looking into your very soul and seeing each and every you desire, all your dreams …
“Let’s go, oh pilferer”, - a man smiled once more. “We have to move forward, for another path is waiting for you. Very soon you will see that. No, it’s not necessary to return me that money, keep it to yourself - for pocket expenses, as they call it. But keep in mind that I will check of how you’ve spent them.
Where are we travelling? Back to my home - it’s so much better that your musty cellar. You will live with me for a while - for after all you have always dreamed to have a father, yes? I will be such a one - until your way will call for you.
You have an entire life waiting for you. Let it be a worthy one - you have the power to make your life the way it ought to be, for that’s what you have deserved. And I - I’ll simply aid you on your way, help you make the first steps … you will travel yourself from there on. I will help you - I desire to help you, so that you can behold the life. Life, I tell you, instead of its dark illusion! Take my hand. Follow me.”
Two slowly travelling figures - a man along with a little boy. Heads of both are raised and sight is directed somewhere highly in the heaves … A brisk cheerful conversation. Laughter and smiles.
Life is just one corner ahead.
12.04.2011
“I have looked around me - and struck was my soul by sufferings of men …”
A.N.Radishchev
This world is on the razor-edge. The break is coming very close. You are even totally incapable to foresee when and what can provoke a final chord. Yet you are so proud of yourselves, so falsely pragmatic … do you have another home?
You have been devastating this planet for centuries, and its destruction by your joint efforts have now reached truly catastrophic scales. You are truly unaware of what you are doing. You have been given a fine, pure, perfect home, but you have transformed it into something terrific. Oh, certainly, for many of you this is some sort of a game, right? One world is not enough for you, and thus you have started crawling in your under-space jalopies into others … do you truly believe you will be freely allowed to raze them as well?
Behold the ones you are following. Look at the ones you are listening to. Inspect what you believe in, and your destiny will not look dreadful to you any longer. One giant “b-o-o-o-m!” - and everything can be started anew, right? But what will happen to your souls, what is awaiting them after such a chord for this world? You don’t even try to reflect on that! Such a scenario for your minds is only some sort of a horror story for a certain phantasmagoric Hollywood, yes? However, at such succession of events you will feel fear instead of fun in reality. How far you are from understanding of the true scales of your disaster! Look for now at your politicians, your scientists, medics and those who call themselves no less than servants of God, bearing no right for that. And, having done that, have once courage to look inside the very depths of yourselves.
For how many times have you tasted the unctuous nectar of lie, flowing from the lips of those to whom you have voluntary given the right to dominate over yourselves? For how many times have they promised to build a Paradise on the Earth? Do you still believe that such a task is in their powers and meets their proportions? But whether a flea can construct a palace or a temple? How many wars have you waged under their command, how many men suffered greatly under the hand of earth tsars? Constantly do they call you for new destructions so that in that endless chaos can they climb on a notorious Olympus at least for an instant. Whether they are not caliphs-for-an-hour? And for you it is the last given life before the ultimate assessment of the way of everyone. Or do you believe that these leaders of yours should be given more time once again, so that together with their brothers-in-arms scientists can they enter a new round of races for possession of even more deadly weapons? Or perhaps you are hoping that these races will go on and on forevermore endlessly, that only possession of weapons and physical forces will be a sufficient basis for preservation of terrestrial nations? But what is the reason to keep those that keeps destroying this world particle after a particle? Or have you a guess that all the true prophets who have come to your world were speaking of some other’s irrelevant fate and were teaching you of something completely abstract and thus useless? How short-minded have many of you become.
Look now at those ones whom you are calling as scientists. With your combined efforts you have managed to turn this world into one big dump. Do you truly think that possession of technics can expiate your paralysis of spirit? Your accomplices have already invented those things which are capable to destroy all physical life on this planet. Do you desire to go further in that? You haven’t enough of it? Or do you consider yourselves still travelling the divine way, more and more linking yourself with a machine and thus being gradually transformed into it? You know almost nothing of the true possibilities of spirit! And whether all these advanced achievements of science and technology have made you truly joyful and happy beings, whether they have added something to the beauty of your inner “I”? You keep collecting dust in your palms, believing it is to be some sort of a jewel, while your true jewel keeps becoming dusty inside you. Soon you will start trusting opinions of machines more than ones of your neighbors, and after that even more that of your own. Then you will replace yourselves with machines. But whether this universe needs yet another factory, producing biological robots?
Whether your medics will be capable to cure you from such a spiritual transformation, while they can’t even heal your bodies? Or do you think that body and spirit are not linked together by invisible threads? Or are you hoping to find next miraculous pill from all troubles and sorrows, fading of spirit being included? But have the prophets taught you of that? And whether doctors of yours desire to understand that violation of laws of spirit always goes before body illnesses? Or, perhaps, they are aware of all invisible consequences of hatred and rage, radiated by spirit? Or something about the destiny of children’s souls whose bodies are suffering from “incurable” diseases, because they have chosen the path of atonement of many from their kin? Or something of that indescribable pain, which have been felt by unborn babies, being killed alive … nothing more than a “biological material” for some? Are those ones not afraid of once being transformed into it themselves? But you are so hurrying to accuse of disgrace the Highest Powers, that you don’t even notice how you are dirtying the souls of your own children, thus starting slowly killing yourselves as well. No sort of pills will ever help you to purify yourselves from own-brought spiritual infection. But, maybe, suffering, you will once learn to truly love each other …
For it is the love of which all the true prophets were telling you! But whether it is the love glimmering in the hearts of those who have proclaimed themselves as their followers? Oh, if only it was that way! But a thirst for wealth and power possessed them and made their hearts stale to human suffering. Therefore do they feast nowadays in luxury with the world being on the break, but whether it’s not a feast during a plague time? Therefore ready they are to willingly rob the ones trusting them of their last possessions, and banish them back to the God, whom they serve not. Maybe someone, banished by these servants, will once find the Maker outside of temples walls. Maybe at least some will understand that the God is not living in the houses of those worshipping a mammon. Maybe they will once bring this message to others.
May you know that this world is still alive only thanking to the God’s Greatest Favor. Only His endless love constrains that relentless stream of evil born by you, which is capable of destroying this world in a single flash of time, having found itself a way out. His Hands have the God stretched over this world and carries it in them like it is a child. And have a feeling I do that He desires it greatly for this world to survive. But some of your kind still have enough impudence to accuse Him of the absence of care of your modest personalities!
Maybe, one day you will see everything clearly. Maybe, you will manage to understand and do something of vital importance in your lives. Maybe you will get rid of the illusions which have flooded your world. Maybe, you will finally fall in love with the One who have given a birth to your spirit and have gifted you a wonderful home. Maybe under His care and with His great aid you will once transform this world into a living Paradise.
Oh, how wonderful would that be!
10.08.2012
One day this will happen.
Your prince on a white horse will once come to you, though you will not hear him. You will not notice him in human crowd, you will not open your doors when he will knock. You will not recognize him and let him enter, for you have not been waiting. True princes always come unexpectedly.
They need no heralds, announcing their arrival. They need no applause. Shouts of approval of others are not required for them. Even horses are necessary no more.
They always come on their own – with years of hard work and constant challenges they got used to rely only on own powers, they learnt to trust themselves. You will not hear them far off on knocking of hoofs of their dashing horses, you will never see them caracoling. They have left white horses far behind of themselves, for without them they can move faster. They have rejected a gilt harness and a well-cared mane, they have refused convenient saddles. Now they always come on their own.
For that reason you will not recognize him, you will pass by.
If they towered proudly over the others on their graceful horses – they would be too appreciable. But they need no applause.
If they raced you on their snow-white horses – you would never forget this short journey together. But they need no dependence on them.
If they have offered you to marry them – you could not refuse. But they want to see others being free.
They denied this greatness. The stepped down from their horses. They became small princes.
And with time they got lost in a big crowd.
That is why you will not recognize him, for you have not known him. For you knew only big princes – too big to once become small ones. That is why you always look above your head, hoping to see big ones and never noticing the small. They became useless.
And still they come. And still they continue to knock on the door of yours, knowing that those doors will not be opened – for there is nobody inside to do it anymore.
And still they hope that one day, lots of years after, you will remember that quiet knock you have heard so long ago, countless days before, but chosen not to open the door, for the unexpected visitor came in thunder-storm and you were too afraid to presoak your feet. Yes, you will remember it once – and smile, having understood, what sort of traveller was on the road.
Seldom, very seldom they come to those who could open the doors - but doors still stand closed – for there is no one to open them from the inside.
They have not died out. They have not vanished.
It is you who have killed your princes.
29.09.2010
If there are only goats all around you, it’s unreasonable to consider yourself an angel
Totally not belonging here proverb
Believe us or not, but no longer can we suffer and hide that recent history from you, happened with us by the will of life, for do we feel it, accurately somewhere under the rib from left side, that marvelous is this story secret and unusual, with meaning still unresolved by us, and instructive brain-washingly. And therefore you, having a talk among us, decided we to tell at least a little, so that can you understand from it at least something, and a desire to change yourself acquire in a proper time. For otherwise it all can fail and fall down through the earth, yeah, just like in the PPP we describe ye. Well, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
And do write down that history named for you we – men simple rural of the village Newworldish, Kirill and Mefodiy. But you us, please, with these letter-makers and azbukas-creators do not confuse, for many times were we blamed for it, for they say that we, apparently, invented this great and mighty Russian – we mean, chattering, foul one, yet did forget to add necessary and required words there, so men ours sometimes missed words these in their disputes greatly. And didn’t we invent it, yet only used ! Especially when all that property of our guys along with PPP have fallen down there, oh, how greatly have we used it – so that even invented new words precisely like Kirill and Mefodiy, yeah ! Well, so, looks like we got acquainted with each other a bit, told you of ourselves (especially that particular Kirill who have advised me to write down this particular story for particular future generations to be educated and advised).
So, believe us or not at all and check it all for yourself (but how could it be possible we don’t know, for all that PPP belongings of ours has been locked underground for several years by now, and thus are unable really to be a material evidence of sorts), but everything happened precisely as we are going to tell you here and now.
Living we were all in our Newwordish village, and knew neither the sadness nor the madness. To kids women of ours gave birth, and we together with them brought them up on mind, reason and chastity. Crops we collected plentiful, so that rye and wheat still remained for sale to nearby cities and towns. And cows ours in farms gave milk normally, and hens made eggs large, and sheep were full of fur, and cats exhausted mice completely. And relations with each other we had fine and harmonious – and such good that we didn’t even sweat between ourselves at all (well, unless, say, we take yet another bottle of moonshine on holidays and don’t share it among our men properly – for, yeah, in that case such wall-to-wall fights could take place that only whistle, ahs, ohs and dust to knees was carried throughout all the village, that’s right). Well, brothers, not a life it was, but a fairytale practically ! Yet didn’t we value that tranquility and peace seriously, and for real pennies for horrors other-worldly did we exchange them, and of that mistake we have been grieving still.
And here how the story goes. Somehow merchants overseas arrived to us from Newdevilish village. And merchants they were because in clothes were they dressed unusual – men in some jackets black in color with canes and hats, and maids shameless with them in dresses short semi-transparent. And from Newdevilish village cause they said us so, even though we have heard of the village with such a name for the first time that time, and haven’t seen it with own eyes, thankfully. And why overseas ones they are we don’t know, for by the form their external and manners very strange we in our private circles so settled and decided afterwards. And also noted we and were surprised greatly that instead of horses habitual and common were their vehicles driven by pigs big, and no drivers did they have at all so these pigs mentioned could move them anywhere they had a whim of their own !
And so they all left their vehicles ruled by pigs, and started to call themselves with names unusual – Smiths, Bobs, Johns, Susans and Varvaras (pardon, Barbaras) and the like. Did say they that have already heard of the village our worthy, and therefore decided not to forget of us as well – and have arrived, thus, to look at us and study us. To learn our customs, as we understood it, and to adopt ones of their own in return. But turned it out, brothers, accurately according to a nipple system ! Imposed they did theirs customs harmful to us, and ours they derided and mocked after, unfashionable and out-of-date them calling. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
They stopped at first in our local tavern for a week or so, so that they can, well, examine our village on “prospects of innovations”, as they decided to express themselves unclearly. And to pay off at first they wanted not with copper coins of ours that sound, but with some pieces of green paper with pyramids and eyes painted on them. Greatly were we surprised by such money, and didn’t want to accept them at first, but convinced they us naturally that always easy it is to exchange pieces of paper these with ugly faces of people on their reverse side drawn, for almost anything we desire, for the entire world is being bought and sold by them for these pieces. Ooh, didn’t scent we their dirty trick at that moment, stupid ones, for in calmness and tranquility of our world, until their arrival which have been remaining, very trustful we managed to become and didn’t think anything bad about visitors.
And so at first a week or so passed, and then the second one came, yet lodgers didn’t even think of leaving. And were they travelling through the village and inquiring both men and women ours of something, and showing them something, and winking. Tempted them with their devilish dresses and addictions without doubt – yet didn’t we understood it at first, moment that critical missed and passed by !
And so it turned our finally so that both a tavern and yard our coaching we have been stripped at once ! Tooth we are giving to you that it all was the way we do describe here : woke up men ours early in the morning by a cock’s shout and decided to walk by dews to breath fresh invigorating air. And voila – see they that our tavern is gone without a trace ! And would it still be fine if lost this trace was in some fire – for a brand new one better than the former would we build, with a pair milk instead of vodka there offered. But no way – instead of a yard our coaching and tavern there was some monster tall made of concrete and glass, as if the sun itself eclipsing with a paunch of floors spreading wide !
And on the first floor letters golden enormous sparkled with all colors and shades, and the only word with three letters there was imprinted, and was that word PPP. For long have we been guessing after that of what this word could mean, and as we could remember agreed that Profound Public Place is that, and why did we call it that way – soon you would understand it, as soon as the history of our grieves you manage to read up to the end. And were rising up and up floor after a floor of this building, and there was no visible end to them at all, uprising – and knowing people, there often afterwards dwelling, told us that there were exactly nine hundred ninety nine floors out there, yet the lift there did not go higher than the first hundreds of floors in village of ours, yet it’ said that in PPPs similar in big cities was it rising higher than that.
And how building that huge and enormous in one night could grow like a mushroom after some acid rain, we have no idea of – and the owner of a tavern, as we remember, was too shocked greatly and grieved at first of his institution, and often guests our overseas surprising accused in that, as if they possessed such magic powers to construct in a night such vast immodest objects – pigs they are, in a word, and blighters. And as if in the water was our Arseny looking, as if was feeling it all in advance !
Rushed we afterwards, as remembered, through the village altogether, seeking those guests unusual, demanding them to answer for that crime of construction, yet no matter how hard we tried to find them in gates, cellars, even sheds, but disappeared they totally without a single trace to catch. Left, probably, by that night from village of ours as far as possible, by pigs being driven. And let they rot ! – decided we, and went to examine the new building. Oh, people kind and smart, better it would be if we didn’t do that, for enticed us all this PPP afterwards and drugged seriously !
Almost everything was available inside it, oh brothers ! Both casino cash-stealing and perfume stupefying, both flowers artificial and dinners gut-filling, and clothes fashionable shameless, and gold with ornaments soul-blinding, and gadgets various peeping and humming and time-consuming, and wines overseas intoxicating, and magazines colorful vulgarizing ... And grasped was the spirit of many of us, and in crowds were we breaching into that PPP, and for all day long have been wandering there and circling by floors and lanes these infinite, and back to their families, and children, and husbands, and wives didn’t want to return at all.
And the payment for pleasures these harmful there was, as we remember, unusual as well : standing there were at an entrance to corridors machines made of iron, and, well, to shake out some money from these devices one had to put his finger in a hole special and wait until some needle pierces his finger and sucks away a portion of his blood – and as if in exchange after that short-term operation pieces of papers these green with eyes and ugly faces on them were dropped in a tray a bit lower. Not so much of them were dropped one at a time, to tell the truth, so that if someone has been hanging for all day long in that PPP mentioned, for many times to machines these he had to run towards, blood his donating, and was unsteady and pale sometimes by the end of the day, yet was still running and lots of pleasures and delights in PPP was buying as if some addict or drunkard really, and maybe even someone worse than that. Precisely like vampires machines these were acting, blood our Russian from due to our weak willpower for each day drop by drop have been drinking !
And changed everything in village our that day, like a snowball pulled hard and downhill started sliding ! And often, as we remember, it was that comes someone from our men by early solar morning to another and offers him so loudly and cheerfully : “Ivan, let’s go living already ! “ And receives a response back drowsily and inertly : “Can’t you see, Emelya, - I am PPP today !” – and went afterwards in that PPP, Profound Public Place, as we called it among ourselves, and have been spending there all day long, so that word this, PPP, soon nominal became by itself.
And soon almost everyone started feeling himself totally PPP, and many there, in PPP that harmful finally degraded and almost like cattle they became. And so hard and awfully soon it became to live that one could start howling from a grief due to that state his indifferent ! And many, naturally, started howling in life – but not on the moon, surely, yet on their neighbors like wolves spiteful. And started swearing with words foreign, from overseas, and hating each other and banishing, for everything became totally PPP to them, even to remain kind, probably.
And for many months has this tragedy lasted, and as if charmed men have become. And soon afterwards it became known as well that machines mentioned, ones blood gathering, were not that simple as they looked like at first – blood they were pumping, and in response some substance poisonous in blood were injecting, so that some women and children of ours died from that poison overseas, their PPP condition being unable to sustain. And buried they were quite fast, and cried about a little for the sake of pro-forma only, and very few people that commemoration visited – for totally PPP it was for them everything by that day already. And whether you do believe us, brothers, or not, but a sun our shining as well began to come to a horizon even earlier than before, so that dark time became longer. And cocks ceased to sing, and hens to give eggs, and cats as well were totally PPP to catch a single mouse.
And don’t we remember exactly for how long these troubles have lasted, - yet clearly we do remember of how it finally ended. Our grandma, local healer, Praskoviya, was almost the only one who has not entered this ill-starred PPP at all. And once after her husband, well, having swallowed some wine and smoked some smokes, returned back home as always, soul of hers didn’t sustain that and shouted she in a fit of temper, as we could remember, the following : “And may all that PPP of yours fall underground once and for all !” And literally in that particular moment (if her husband Mikhalych, well, who have secretly whispered all this to us after sobering, doesn’t lie naturally and shamelessly), the ground in all our village started shaking and moving like waves, as if not a ground that was at all, but some sort of sea instead. And so it was all shaking and moving for some time, and after that – yawn ! –a hole enormous under that PPP opened, and all it along with the unfortunate ones who were in it during that time have fallen into that depth infinite, so that a third part of our village disappeared there in no time suddenly, in that gloomy endless depth.
Like a crater enormous that hole was ! Ooh how terrified were we to look at it for the first times ! And shouted there in a hope that someone would respond us back, yet only the death silence has always been an echo. And several days after the earth started trembling once again, and linked on the place of that hole and closed it, as if there has never been anything on a place of that tavern ill-fated. And Praskoviya mentioned became mute after these events– and were going and couldn’t utter a single word any longer, only swinging was she her hands silently from time to time, that’s it.
And may you believe us or may you not, - yet life started adjusting and correcting itself after events these terrifying. And as if regained consciousness people, and awakened, and came this PPP to its ultimate end. And started living peacefully with each other once again, with kids, and husbands and wives their time sharing. And days became longer, and nights shorter, and cocks started singing once again, and hens eggs were bringing, and rats ran away and got lost somewhere. Remembered well people that lesson dreadful, and threw away all PPPs from their souls, living justly.
Yep, so it was all exactly like that as we, men Kirill and Mefodiy, have told you here ! And not a single bit did we muddle events of the days of the past, only probably a little in details most insignificant dispersed – but that could happen to everyone, yes ? And whether you trust us or not – is not the business of ours, for the business of ours we have already fulfilled right now, - and the business of yours is to read all this, to think over it, and get rid of all those PPPs once and for all !
22.09.2012
Dirt. Slush. Dampness. Decay’s smell. Water, dripping from a ceiling.
It used to be here so for a time being. No one was ever going to fix this cellar, and it was unimportant for inhabitants of this house - totally and irreversibly. They, too, were unimportant for those tenants, not to anyone, not to anybody.
Only few ones aided them, responded to their requests … immensely simple requests, so easy for these rich tenants. To give some money - as little as they can, as much as impossible. To bring a small piece of bread - for they were starving to the death.
Practically nobody ever helped. So few ones.
Why? Why? Why?
What an immense amount of boldness was required for them in order to address someone! To plead for help in the condition, in which they were for now, to stand against a gaze, full of hatred and contempt.
What for did men despise them? For, when their father died and mother passed away from this world as well, having choked in some furious illness, for, when this has happened, government expropriated their apartment from them - so totally young, and since then they have been doomed to wander through court yards and cellars, by hook or by crook finding even a single piece of bread? Stealing so seldom, so much often - just to beg. To plead for help, for aid with something - what can be given, can be spared. They were left with a last possibility of survival - a sincere human request, addressing hearts of men … But almost no one ever dared to help.
Once again they gathered here today, in a stuffy and dirty cellar - best option, which they have managed to find during last months. Gathered to discuss results of the day - to share what it was possible to find with each other. If it was possible, that’s it.
They didn’t conceal anything from each other, didn’t hide, referring to adverse circumstances - shared all they have managed to get. They, who have been struggling against such deprivations, had no knowledge of contempt and egoism, they aided one another … They - two brothers and a sister. Two sixteen-year old teenagers and fourteen-year girl.
For almost three years they have been living that way. How it was possible, as much as they could. They have already sustained three years of such life - how much is left for them in the storehouse of life ? A month, a year, a decade? Nay, it’s better not to think of that, not in that direction. Period.
The obstinate reason made one feel uneasy, was running in circles time and again - even now. Tried to create rescue plans, to calculate possibilities to jump out of this dark and dirty fetid hole into the living world. To leave this excuse for a world behind, and enter a new and pure one, not its pity caricature.
No matter what, they were left to explore this type of world for now on. Only that pitiful one. But what will be with all those noble causes and fulfillments, of which they have dreamed so often in long-forgotten childhood, what is going to be with all them? Will they be lost? Or will find the inner strength to survive?
Must survive.
They have to survive for their dreams to be realized - their pure dreams must survive in hearts of theirs for them to survive-– so that they can live on as men. Dying is not an option, both cases. They will survive. And implement their light dreams afterwards.
His reflections were suddenly interrupted by a soft and high pitched voice - one of his sister, who have just come running from street. Entered this poor excuse for a home.
- Pasha, Pasha, take a look at what I’ve found today. Come to me, please come closer!
He took a look. There was an apple pie in her hands - a big apple pie. Already slightly dried up and soiled, with a large part which have been bitten off. She yearned, poor soul …
- Vanya, Pasha, take it. Take it all. I have already eaten, was given food. A wonderful kind grandmother, single such one for many ladder flights. Only one. She gave me warm and sweet-sweet tea with jam. Can you imagine? Never in my life since the death of our mum and pa have I eaten such yum-yum. She allowed me to eat some pies, and when I have told her that I have two brothers as well, she has been searching for something for quite a while, distressed. And then she told me that for now she practically have nothing more as a food for you, for she is no more able to walk freely, and her sons buy and bring her meals. A pie, this very pie - she said that she has baked it herself, and for now that’s everything she has to give you. She gave me that for you, and then told that if I am either hungry or terrified, I can return to her once more - and she will warm and feed me. That’s it. These are great news!
While she, distorting and eating words, has been chattering all that, he approached her and silently sat down nearby. Took a glance at her - she was shivering. Then he embraced her and pushed to himself. Let she be warmed, calmed down. She’s good fellow, brought some meal. That was rarely possible even for both of them. A good fellow.
“You are the good fellow”, - he told her. She smiled. “I did my best”, - he heard.
Now, now they are going to eat to be warmed. Their organisms will obediently take offered food and transform it into a heat. It should suffice for today - and tomorrow they must repeat it all from the very beginning.
And every day is so much the same. A month? A year? A decade?
With no visible option to escape this circle. It, certainly, exists, - yet he’s unable to find it. But he will find, most surely will. For their own sake, for the sake of his younger brother and little sister - an escape route will be found, a breach will be located. He’s obliged to locate it.
Slowly did drops drip from a ceiling. Time hung heavy. He was sitting and reflecting … remembering his former carefree life. How much he’s missing it now! They all are missing the caress of parents, their kindness and care. Life forced them to become totally-totally adult very early, being thrown away from a childhood. It was necessary for some mysterious reason … Was required …
To teach them not to be afraid of deprivations? To help them be kinder and tolerant to men, especially now, when so few of them were ever going to behave the same in return? To make them understand the pain and burden of others, same as they are?
Probably. Most certainly.
But from this endless stream of vital lessons he, seemingly, learned at best a lesson of compassion and mutual aid - he could never imagine his life without an aid to his brother and little sister. He was obliged to aid them get out from this hole. Help them …
In this very instant of time his little sister somehow amusingly smacked one’s lips, and turned to another side, still holding the edge of his jacket in her small hands. He turned around and once again covered her p let the foolish cold doesn’t disturb her at least in her dreams …
They didn’t even have a tiny possibility to earn some money - to earn with their, though childish, but totally selfless work. It would become as such if he managed to find some job at last. But never in his condition was it possible.
No one, nobody gave them a job - they were almost immediately thrown away at first sight. “People”, - he was compelled to shout to all those men, giving clips and punches, decorated maidens, fastidiously screwing up their faces, and starting to whisper something to those men quickly after his first appearing before them, - “people! Why do you drive me away, leaving with no possibility to get out of this terrible hole, in which I have sunk? I am trying to jump away from it, trying to change my life! I am not even begging anything from you - I’m simply trying to earn something, even for a meal. Why do you despise me so? You don’t even know, you have totally no idea of all those burdens and deprivations which I along with my brother and little sister had to sustain! You, whether you know, I wonder, how’s that - to live with no roof over a head, with no place which you can call home … to live the way I do … to live, being ready in each new day to cease living, having simply died from hunger? Do you have a slightest idea of this life’s taste? Have no desire to know? I, too, have none - totally - but had to feel it on my own lips. I had to. And now I can make nothing … Almost nothing.”
Do I indeed can make totally nothing … is that really so? Cause if … if a constant source of food and heat won’t be found soon - they will be lost. Will die … and … that’s all?
If he’s unable to earn … something … a bit … then … his little sister will have to … have to …
Nay, no, no way! Damn reason, shut up, shut up, shut up!
That will never happen! Never! I won’t admit it! Break myself about thresholds, begging for work - but won’t admit it!
After all, she, Nina, could become a true princess … a sunray for a lot of people - she, since her very birth, she had a talent to play life … playing it so lovely, so naturally. She has been living almost like a child even now in that cacophony of their life. She could become a wonderful actress - actress of life … various life … uneasy life.
And he along with his brother could help a lot of people, teaching them to value what is being given to them by life, to appreciate any blessing, any help … to respond to the request, a sincere human request … not to allow one’s hearts to freeze …
Water, slowly dripping from a ceiling. Peep of rats behind a wall. Two boys and a girl, nestled to each other. Sleeping. What is awaiting them the next day?
Next five hundred sixty seven days …
* * *
A pen, being put aside. Sheets of paper, piled upon each other. He will continue his work tomorrow - continue writing. He still has much to tell people.
A still young man with a strange for random passer by radiant sight left his table. Yes, he’s going to continue the work he devoted himself to tomorrow.
He reflected for a moment and smiled. How lovely and natural her sister was! She has been living that way even now, living as a child, still capable to take care of her and others. She has been living like that even now, when troubles and misfortunes of their past have been overcome, having left a large hem in a memory. Slowly healing hem.
Have all lessons been learned? Is the meaning of his life’s events been understood? Were answers, given to the questions, asked by life itself, honorable and wise? Questions, asked more than ten years ago … Much has been understood and comprehended, but even more is awaiting him on his road. And he’ll try to analyze results of his selections, comprehend own errors. He’ll make it in the book - his first book. No, in their common book - book of their life. Two brothers and a sister.
His sister called him yesterday by phone. Her voice was, as always, melodious and joyful. A lovely voice of dear person. Yes, she rejoiced her new life. Was indeed happy. She was granted a new role in a remarkable film - a role of a gentle wife and loving mother, the one, which she so perfectly carries out now in her own family. In a family with no insult and hatred ever possible, one without mistrust and self-interest, with a light and air of freedom, gentle aroma of love and mutual aid and assistance, trust, gratitude and kindness - where all that is present as a basis, a core. She’s truly happy in that family of hers - she always spoke so … shared her joy in their meetings.
He’s happy as well, in his new work.
Only his brother doesn’t send news for quite a while. Never mind, he’ll sure will, when return from abroad. He’s now a businessman, influential one and a man of action - largest magnates of a country listen to his opinion. Yet this sort of power hasn’t spoiled him, he - all they - were given a lesson of deprivations for a reason. It made them kinder and wiser, despite the obstacles, in spite of the barriers.
Now each of them implements his own dream. Just as they once dreamed …
Someone will probably say, that it’s a miracle and shed a few tears with a joy in own eyes. Somebody will be wrinkled mistrustfully, having muttered that all this “story” of his own life, embodied in a book, have much in common with a ridiculous fairy tale and silly fictions. Some will thank him for an advice. Some will start applying advices in own life. And he himself will name it - a Trial, a life’s test. A test, symbolizing the beginning of new ones … each and every day.
Is that truly a miracle that after almost five years of wanderings, they at last managed to be arranged in some circus to look after animals, and when some unknown actress left the group, attention of circus managers were suddenly turned to his little sister, to her live and childish spontaneity … to her unspeakable beauty in that spontaneity?
And then there were years - years of hard work. So very different years.
He’s been made a gymnast - along with his natural dexterity he coped perfectly with that role. His brother has been taught to juggle. Their sister began to conduct shows. This was the beginning of their new life’s journey.
Is that really a miracle that his sister soon became an actress - and her charm and sincere beauty have brought her a world’s fame?
Whether that a miracle that his brother, having saved a small fortune, opened a business, which has grown into the largest transnational company?
Whether that a miracle that, wishing with all his heart to seek answers to life questions, to learn himself and to teach others making right choices, - became a writer ?
He won’t name it a miracle, he’ll call it a Sign - a sign of the way. His and their way - a way which they must - have been obliged to - pass to become the ones they have become.
To cope with challenges. To feel no fear of obstacles. To believe in fine dreams, to implement them in one’s life. To become a Man, a man with a capital letter.
To be him.
15.05.2011
The thirtieth day …
Yes, the thirtieth day has passed since he has got here. Into his new home. HOME.
The frozen tongue refused to pronounce this painfully familiar and once causing an anxious delight and joy word. How unimaginably new it now sounded in consciousness !
Despair. Despair, dimming the mind.
Tears – what about ? Maybe of those long time gone and irrevocable days of simple man’s happiness ? Of sonorous men's voices and happy children's smiles ? Of a united family, which he was eager to have ?
“Father” … He has, actually, never heard this wonderful sound – and will never hear it now. NEVER. The mind gloatingly hinted, that this is so – it can be no other way. But the heart, the heart, which have suffered so many torments and suffering – his heart refused to believe that. It always refused to trust in pain and grief. Always. Or … until the 30-days old events only ?
And still … nevertheless, it’s his new home for now, no matter how blasphemously this word would now sound.
A street. Almost constantly locked up at night doors of buildings. City dumps, where it was seldom possible to find some sort of food …
No, no, NO !! This cannot be with me, only not with me ! Why, why, why ?!
Silence. Deadly silence. Silence of night. Words have left a withered throat into a darkness of night and have died out in a far distance.
There is no response. He will have to search for answers himself.
Then – weakened, wasted, with scars all over his body – traces of struggle against colleagues by misfortune and city’s thugs, with a face, covered by purulent scabs, - he has fallen to the ground. He hasn’t even noticed, how suddenly the earth approached and his body, having hit it with dull sound, kept lying motionlessly …
* * *
… He did neither remember, nor know, how many time has passed. And, probably, didn’t even want to. What’s the reason ? To find livelihood and a lodging for the next night – were his needs not limited by this only ?
Then he opened his eyes. Tried to move – and desperately screamed from a sharp pain and a bloody haze in his eyes – a hand, his right hand. The one, which has rescued him time and again in fights on dark alleys for a piece of bread, the one which helped him to sometimes open not too qualitatively made locks of city buildings – he felt it no more. Totally, completely. A bone fracture, a dislocation ? Most probably a dislocation and a pain shock, which has followed it … that’s good. Could be worse – much worse.
We will make it. We will survive, reason – I tell you !
Hospital ? What hospital are you suggesting me to go for, reason ? And was it not you, my accidental witness, of how hundreds of people during those thirty days expelled me and threw me away from public transport, how teenagers mocked me angrily, how adults unfriendly mowed and how young girls turned away from me with such an expression on their faces, as if they have just seen the nastiest thing in their life ?
There is no place for me in the world of those ones. No more a place.
Aaarrrgggghhh … no, stop it ! Only not those images, only not them ! Memory, my obliging aunt who has been serving to me so right earlier, - what sort of malicious joke are you going to play with me ?! Stop it, I beg you ! I have already submitted to my fate ! I have put up with it – do you hear me ? I had !
Or … or not completely ?
Questions, questions, questions … Questions, irritating both mind and heart. Lonely questions without answers. Servants of pain – spiritual anguish.
A pain again – this time from a hand. That’s not too much. That one will be gone.
They, it’s they who are guilty ! – once again he wanted to growl spitefully. Yes, it’s them. Harmful businessmen, liars, rascals. They have cheated him, as well as hundreds like him. He did not remember all details for now, but firmly remembered one thing – they have get his apartment by a deceit. Fucked company, false agency ! Bastards !
Stop.
Only not rage. No more hatred. He was already tired of it, too tired already. Thirty days – it’s such a big timespan to still continue hating.
Thirty days … how much he has learnt and understood during those thirty days !
With what contempt he looked at all these “needy” and unfortunate people earlier ! How much arrogance and complacency was in his eyes, obscured by formal well-being. How many simple human requests he rejected, referring to a lack of time … a lack … now, seemingly, he has this time in surplus – but what sort of time …
He even betrayed once – his close friend and the fellow worker. Wanted to earn money … has earned … And his friend got to prison for financial frauds – tried to prove, that he was a fictitious person. If only he also knew, who did that …
He has to pay for everything, he thought suddenly. For all things made. To redeem own crimes. A cruel lesson, indeed. He was, however, cruel as well.
He stood up. Looked around. He has come – has returned to his home … Not to himself, though, not to his home. He perfectly remembered what was his home for now. And nevertheless … something uncontrollably pushed him to enter this familiar front door, to feel house smells – for the last time in his life. He will not return to this building anymore.
And then, having thrown aside all cowardly and bitter thoughts, firmly pushed his fractured hand to a breast, he has moved on – started wandering to a front door of this house. The door slowly swung open and some married couple went out of the doors – probably on a walk. He made a jerk and approached the entrance.
The young girl made a wry mouth and whispered something to his beloved one’s ear. The beloved one tried to strongly seize a man with a ridiculously bent and pressed to a breast hand, moving to a front door, but that man has suddenly whispered : “Only for a minute. It’s my former home”, - and a man’s hand, almost ready to seize this nasty vagabond, has suddenly slowly dropped somehow, a flickering of understanding moved in his eyes for an instant and, having murmured “yes, certainly”, he stood aside.
… Forward and upwards – to the third floor. Here it is, close and familiar … almost native. And who might be living in his apartment for now ?
He listened. Somewhere behind a door the dog was vigorously barking, possibly meeting his master. Somewhere a child was crying. Somewhere people were swearing. And only once during all that half an hour that he was standing, having leant against a wall and remembering former life, somewhere from above a many-voiced and joyful laughter has reached his ears.
He came back a short time after. Away from his home. Or straight to it ?
The ground floor … mail boxes, similar to cast bunkers. To look in ? But who can write him ? Who ?
And still he looked into it – in a box with large and bold number “30”. The thirtieth day … the thirtieth apartment … it’s even somewhat amusing …
There was only one letter – with his initials on it. With his ! He looked at its date. Yes, it was brought 29 days ago – the apartment was still owned by him that day. He has overrun its text. At first the bewilderment, then amazement, a smile and a pain were reflected in his face. However, if somebody has accidently seen his face this instant – he would accept its expression for some sort of predatory grin.
Not trusting his own eyes, he looked through the text lines once again. Everything is correct. His mind was still serving him well. There is no mistake possible. Large letters and words “notice”, “fortune”, a name of his sister, living abroad, and a sum of one hundred thousand dollars were the last things that twisted in his consciousness that day. His legs gave away and he felt down, unconscious.
A rising sun could be seen in a building’s windows …
31.10.2010
The loud roar - a furious war-call filled the area and forced to shudder, apparently, even the sky. Hundreds and hundreds of warriors were running towards each other, dressed in sparkling chain armors and inexhaustible fighting passion was sparkling in their eyes. There was neither doubt, nor fear - only a thirst of battle and a war fury - to kill the enemy before you fall on the battlefield yourself. But those who have fallen in a fair fight are winners already, they are destined to enter the sparkling halls of Valhalla and the almighty Odin himself will lead them into new battles forevermore. Let him guide them into this struggle for their enemies to fall before the power of the mighty Odin!
A blow - a turning. A turn - a strike. The joy filled him - finally a battle which he has thirsted for so long, a decent struggle once more! A waving of hand - battle axe falls upon a helmet of the enemy - and he heavily falls to the ground. Another swing - and a blow of monstrous force dissects a chain armor of one more. Drops of blood, streaming from a body of the enemy … repeated blow - and a new enemy has fallen. Here his fighting comrade swings too - and practically splits in two parts another foe.
There were no rules here - and more nimble and crafty sometimes prevailed. A sword, which has fallen flatwise on a back of his battling friend … some sort of squeezed rattle, coming from his throat. Here his comrade falls on a knee, trying to turn and strike back the attacker - but the attacker, who have sneaked from behind, strikes again, this time with the edge of his blade - and it breaks off chain armor plates … One more instant - and everything is finished.
In such instants he ceased to feel the pain. He ceased to feel weight of his weapon, for the hundredth time striking into iron plates, he ceased to feel time itself. A shout of desperation and pain broke from his breast - pain from the death of his friend with whom he has been diving one bread and hardship of war marching. He has been twisting and twisting his lethal weapon, feeling no weight - and enemies scattered before him. Most brave - or stupid - perished instantly. More careful preferred not to get inside the dance of sparkling steel. But enemies were many and their number has been, apparently, only growing.
Shouts and groans. Sounds of clashing blades. Battle was boiling.
* * *
The battle has been raging for a day - and warriors of Odin have prevailed. Only a hundred warriors from former several thousand …
“Glory to the Great Odin!”- battle shout was carried around, once the last enemy has fallen.
“Glory to the Odin!” - many warriors repeated in an echo, him including. They have won the battle, they have prevailed once more. Their fallen brothers will stand in the light halls before the Great Father - for new battles and new victories. And one day he will meet them too …
* * *
He moaned. In powerless fury punched a table with such a force, that it has almost collapsed half-in-half.
Why, why, why? Why should he do that? Words fell into silence and were dissolved in it without a trace. Words were gone - yet his inner voice did neither abandon him, nor give a chance to rest. No longer a voice of the warrior of Odin.
Monastery. Why should they attack this monastery? This is unworthy battle! Murder of innocent ones for the sake of looting of stronghold’s treasures …
And he, he must lead his hundred-warriors squad - only to see how monks fall under blows of axes and swords, having lifted their crosses highly and begging their unknown to him god for protection … This will be a massacre instead of a battle - bloody slaughter because of avidity. And he, one of the best, will be their leader… and he cannot refuse for the price for that deed is a death and eternal damnation, forever depriving the one from entering into the golden chambers of Odin. Why doesn’t he have a choice? Why must he exterminate defenseless ones - not warriors in any sense?
Or must he?
He roared in powerless frenzy. Swept up on the house. Then grasped an axe and started smashing everything in vicinity. Then somehow ran across a butt with water and tipped a head over there. This helped. He returned to his senses, calmed down.
Has been silently sitting, reflecting. So an hour has passed. Then he has sharply and fitfully risen up, as though having solved for himself a question of utmost importance.
“It is decided”, - he thought clearly, - “it is decided”.
* * *
They were landing ashore from war galleys and he was commanding them - warriors of Odin. Warriors of a god, deadly for their enemies.
And battle shouts and enthusiasms were born once again. His brothers-is-arms were almost the same - yet their enemy was different now … Here the last of warriors is descending on a coast - now he should lead them into battle against yet unaware of their presence defenders of a monastery, that has conveniently arranged itself on a slope of mountains one kilometer away from here.
“Now or never. Now or never”.
“Warriors”, - he cried out. - “Great warriors of Odin, who have won in hundreds and hundreds battles for the glory of our god! We are daring and courageous, and Odin leads us into the righteous battle! The fate of our enemies has already been sealed, for Odin himself directs us!”
A loud shout of approval was his answer.
“But I call to you, warriors. Whether we are going to fight for a worthy purpose for now? Whether a battle that is awaiting us is worthy of the glory of true fighters? We are obliged to destroy foes of ours - but whether they are real enemies for us? We have always battled worthily and have finished battles as conquerors - yet we will not leave this fight as conquerors, brothers! This fight is not ours, it will not lead us to the glory and golden halls. We must not conduct it!”
Rows of warriors started arguing. It seemed as if they all were greatly confused.
“Even one, a single one from you, support me, brothers. At least one courageous enough for that…”
“Yes, Hrothgar said right! This battle is not ours!” - and one of his soldiers stood forward, saying these words. “I too have thought of that when has received my task to go under his command - and I have decided that this fight is not a deserving one. We will find no glory in this battle, but rather kill those who are unworthy to fight against the Warriors of Odin!”
Warriors started whispering among themselves. Some were winding heads in confusion, looking at what others were going to do. Yet this did not continue for long - totally not long. Only several dozens of seconds.
“You are the traitor! You dishonor victorious fighters! You are unworthy of entering the halls and will be forevermore damned for that cowardice!” Another warrior came forward, as if almost spitting out these words in him.
“Betrayer!”, - he repeated and has approached Hrothgar, highly raising his battle axe. But during that moment the one who have supported Hrothgar has blocked his way and unshakably risen up in arms, being ready to fight - or to die. They are really going to die here soon - two against dozens …
And so he spoke again. Convinced them of an error, which they were almost ready to make. Urged them not to start this unworthy battle. Told of better battles and worthy encounters. He tried to find all those words clear for them - speaking their language, which have almost become distant for him.
And while he was speaking, another dozen of soldiers left the ranks and stood nearby him - in their eyes there was the same courage and readiness, if required, to die here - as well as in his own. Yet entire thousands of fighters remained motionless. It seems that they are really going to die today - and be subject to eternal damnation for this apostasy …
“Listen not to this coward and liar! Each one, betraying the mighty Odin in battle is losing the right to enter His halls forever. Cowards are not welcomed in the halls of daring! Let us wipe off these traitors and liars - and start a great battle! Attack, true warriors of Odin!”
Accusatory words once again - and the ardor of warriors is flaming up. Confusion is disappearing from their faces to be replaced by fierceness and pitilessness once more…
“Well, brothers, we have to die here today”, - he mentally addressed eleven true warriors. But they perfectly understood him even without these words - only have stronger seized their weapons in hands and moved closer to him - shoulder to a shoulder.
An instant - and one hundred of warriors is rushing towards them.
An instant - and weapons are clashing.
Instants - are like eternities themselves.
Here twelve warriors stand shoulder to a shoulder, ready for fighting and dying.
Here the first run up foe swings his blade - and his blow is beaten off.
Here more and more enemies are coming - and blades are striking tirelessly - they, these twelve, didn’t feel weariness this day.
Here the first of them is wounded - and they stand closer to protect him inside the formed circle.
His war cry, which was carried far away by a wind. And here the first wave of enemies rolls back from them as from an indestructible barrier. But enemies assault once again - and two more defenders are wounded. Circle closed even tighter and attacks became even more furiously.
First, second, third, tenth, twentieth … Enemies ran up and were forced back away from them - like from impenetrable wall. But there were many … so many of them … Here only five defenders keep fighting - the others have either been wounded or killed.
Four … three … two …
Only he and the warrior who have first stood for his defense remained. Here he turns to face him - and great wisdom and understanding shines in his eyes.
“Let us battle, brother!”, - and he stands to his back, protecting.
So, standing back to each other and striking aside incoming blows, they have held for two more minutes. And then almost seven dozens of warriors have crushed them and overwhelmed - and rushed to a monastery, encouraging themselves with wild roars …
* * *
Instant? Eternity? How much time has truly passed?
He didn’t know - only remembered his last fight - one of twelve fighters - and a final blow of pole axe, which have crushed him.
He didn’t die? He didn’t … Enemies have considered him dead and didn’t finish off …
But … if they haven’t managed to resist them … it turns out that monastery has been plundered and razed … They haven’t stopped them, they have failed …
He moaned - even not from incredible pain, swirling throughout all his body, but from an aching sensation of melancholy and grief. They couldn’t stop them… He and eleven nameless warriors …
Having made extreme efforts and cried from a cutting pain, he managed to rise up. About thirty warriors lied motionlessly before him, having silently observing the sky. And among them were his courageous fighters. Died ones … Let they, worthy ones, be not damned, but blessed instead - and find peace in the world they are travelling to now!
He looked around - there was no sign of war galleys. This means that fight has already finished and warriors sailed back home. It means the monastery cannot be saved anymore … But maybe someone managed to survive the attack there. Somebody … even if one of monks is still alive - he is obliged to help him, obliged to come for a rescue - that way he can at least rectify his mistake. Besides, he hasn’t a way back for now, he is both the exile and a cursed one - damned by his own people … let they consider him as dead instead.
Still constraining groans from intolerable pain, he rose up and slowly started walking in the direction of monastery. One thousand meters, just one thousand meters … his debt.
He walked and fell. Then rose and walked again. And fell again. Then he started creeping by the ground.
Probably, a day passed. Possibly, a whole eternity instead. He knew not - he had one purpose and one way for now - and he was walking it. Even being practically flat-out - was still walking. And when at the long last strong walls of a monastery appeared before his obscured look, he has risen on his weak hands and smiled.
“I have found you at last”, - his lips whispered silently, and he fell unconscious.
* * *
Quiet sad song. Someone’s hands, sliding on his face. And then - a cold water stream. He groaned and moved.
“Alive!”, - he heard through a veil, enveloping him.
Alive. He lives still. What for, if he wasn’t able to fulfill his duty? What’s the point? He tried to open own eyes - but only some vague red haze welcomed him. Then he closed them and submerged into a dream.
He slept and slept. From time to time he woke up for about ten minutes - and then fell asleep once again. When he has woken up again and tried to open eyes for one more time - the bloody mirage has gone. And then he has vaguely distinguished a human figure inclined over him and heard her voice - a tender voice of the girl.
“Sleep, it’s still too early for you to move. Wounds haven’t yet healed. Sleep”. He didn’t resist a dream.
Then from time to time he woke up to hear her voice again and tried to distinguish her face through a haze - and failed to do that for many times. But that memorial day came once, when he has roused without assistance - and both his sight and hearing have cleared up.
“I have found you at last”, - suddenly almost-forgotten words came up to his mind.
Yes, it was a girl, still very young, probably seventeen - eighteen years old. Only an adult hardness could easily be read in her eyes already.
And then he dared to ask.
- Where am I?
- You are in our monastery, - the girl answered. - In my monastery, - she added and sobbed.
- You … you have helped me … Why?
- You are not from those who have attacked us. I have understood that immediately. Our … my … brothers … have mislead attackers into woods … to find their death there … survived barbarians returned here … and plundered the monastery. All those whom my brothers have overcome in battle remained in the woods - and you have approached the front of monastery walls instead. If you were among the attackers - you wouldn’t even risk doing that. You are not from the ones who have killed my brothers, - she said solidly.
- Y..y..e..s … t..ha..ths … so …, - he uttered quietly with still disobeying tongue.
- Then why have you come here? - and she moved very close to him, studying his face with her demanding sight.
- I wanted … desired to stop them … and … couldn’t … forgive … forgive me, if you … still can.
- You wanted to aid us? - her eyes opened widely in surprise, - why is that so? You are a one of their kind … you have stood against them?
- I … couldn’t …. allow … slaughter …., - words came out very slowly and hardly from his throat.
- But it had taken place nevertheless … However, what difference does it make for now! Take a rest, sleep - and tell me the rest afterwards.
She was right, he required a rest now - lots of resting - and thus he plunged into that attractable dream once more.
* * *
He woke up and felt her warm hand lying on a forehead.
He decided to keep his eyes closed - only tried to listen to her measured breathing. When at last he opened them - she removed her hand from his forehead, and brought a sponge to his face, impregnated with something cold.
- Woke up, did you? - this time her voice was much more affable, than the last time, - alright, stand up, now you should be quite able to do it.
He tried to rise - and for the first time in many days his body obeyed him. He sat down on a bed and with a cleared sight looked at her. She was surprisingly beautiful - at least she should be considered as such by the measures of her people. Fair hair were stretching down to shoulders, smile was playing on her lips - for the first time in many days. Her eyes reflected own vivacity and at the same time some form of adult firmness. A white robe she was wearing.
- H … how much did I sleep?
- A week, for almost a week you have remained here. Ate very little, has been practically sleeping for all day long. You, probably, don’t even remember that for now - minutes should have passed for you, I guess.
- W … why have you helped me?
- You strived to help us, after all, yes? Even if you … if it wasn’t possible for you - you still weren’t among these barbarians. I was obliged to lend you aid, it was my personal debt. Oh, if only you have come here in time … were in time … but what could you possibly do against one hundred of fighters …
- N … not alone. I wasn’t battling them alone … there were … twelve of us. They all … died.
Following these words tears came out on his coarse cheeks - but he hasn’t allowed himself such inexcusable weaknesses before at all.
Girl smiled somehow sadly and with a hope at the same time.
- All in all, there are still those men on earth who haven’t lost their heart, still they do exist. A pity you couldn’t help us. But what twelve soldiers could make against one hundred …
- You said previously, that your brothers have died …
- Yes, barbarians slaughtered them all. I was the only sister of this monastery … and the only survived one. Only to mourn over their death.
And she, despite all external firmness, started crying.
- How have you survived then? Haven’t they touched you?
- I … have hidden in a monastery. We had … a secret … entrance … and tunnel, leading from a monastery, - she was speaking, still sobbing, - I have survived a storm in there, how my father has ordered me … However, this storm has destroyed everything close to my heart …
It seemed that she would be totally overwhelmed by her grief from returning memories. He stretched his hand and took her hand in own palms. May she know she’s not lonely in this world still …
They have been sitting quietly, having strongly compressed hands of each other. So ten minutes passed. Finally she managed to calm down.
- Have a rest, warrior, - she whispered silently and left the room.
* * *
The first day, the second, the third … Week, another, third …
He finally completely recovered from his wounds and they have got a possibility to talk every evening. She missed these simple human conversations greatly now - and so did he. They shared a same trait in this - they both have become exiles, both lost their relatives.
Gradually she started to come visiting him more often. When she, suddenly, started remembering of these memorable grief days of her recent past - he consoled her. Sometimes she asked him to tell of his former battles - and listened to what he was saying with such an attention and care, which he hasn’t noticed in any woman before.
Then their days of joint walks on monastery vicinities have come. These were remarkable days - bright and sunny days of spring. Winter snow has finally thawed - and has apparently taken away all worries with him. It was a wonderful time. Perhaps, one of the best in both his and her lives.
They were standing, having embraced, under a crone of some tree, through foliage of which a sun was playing with its beams on their faces. He was saying these words that moment - ones of his heart. He has sworn that they will never part ways and always, forever, both in life and death - will be together.
Eternally will be together. Forever.
With her, unique her - he has truly fallen in love. Unlike he loved anyone else he loved her. He is still loving her. And will always be - in life - and in death.
* * *
- Get ready! Move away! Ignite!
The flame rushed upwards, desperately trying to devour in a flash of time a tenacious piece of a tree together with a man, bounded to it. Here its tongues are coming closer and closer - already dancing before his eyes. Soon it will all come to an end. It ends all so very soon …
Their common happiness didn’t last for long.
A new raid of his horde came a year after - and only two defenders remained to protect the monastery - he and she. They have been captured - and he was recognized. At first they have considered him as the Messiah - a one revived from dead - but shortly afterwards someone has declared that he simply hasn’t managed to thrust this traitor through a breast well enough with his axe. He didn’t observe the one speaking these words - only his voice seemed somehow very familiar to him …
Traitors are never forgiven. Death is the fate of theirs. Through burning. Unprecedented execution for his people - they were usually killed in a fair fight. Probably he didn’t even deserve such a fight judging by his brothers’ decision - only a stab in the back.
She too must be burned to the death - as his accomplice - and that was the most terrible thing of all. But, as it came out, not for her - only not for her.
- I will remain with you forever - remember? In life and in death.
- In life and in death - always, - he answered. And they embraced - for the last time in this life.
She was dragged away. Then she was fastened with iron ropes to a same pillar. And then a fire was ignited.
The flame assaulted with blinding and burning waves, devouring its legal victim. But the pain wasn’t felt any longer. Two burning pillars. Two courageous persons.
- Together - forever! - he cried out with all remaining powers.
- Always! - her words reached his ears.
A new impact of elements - and they both have disappeared in the fire.
The crowd was shouting in ecstasy.
And only few ones, who have turned away from this fire-site, swore to themselves - were giving a sacred oath of true warriors - to never in their lives allow such a thing anymore. To struggle for justice. Always. Only these few ones have seen, how two light spirits have soared high from burning columns. How they embraced and smiled to each other - and have risen up to the heavens.
- Together - forever, - they have overheard.
- Always, - repeated they.
09.04.2012
Oh my God, that is so exciting! At the long last I have met a girl, whom I have fallen in love with. I already started to believe more and more, that this is totally impossible, that I will never find a person, close to my spirit, in this world of yours. Tens of acquaintances - and nobody, no one, who had at least close to mine world outlook. It seemed, that hope had almost left my heart and, as far as I could remember, I even began to convince myself that, probably, such way of things is absolutely inevitable and I, whether I desire it or not, should better accept it – to reconcile with it as with something so much stronger than me.
Amazing, that’s truly amazing – the spark of hope has practically died out … and during this very instant, when I have already almost ceased to trust in possibility of a miracle - it has come true!
Lovely, nice, wonderful girl … surprisingly spiritually close to me. How did it happen that we have found each other at last? Just a few minutes back or forward - and we - knowing nothing about what we are creating, would, possibly, pass by, having never looked on each other. And we would never meet again that way … we would never meet for certain. And then I would definitely finally lose last bits of hope.
Oh, how much do I thank you, God, for hearing my prayers!
Today we were passing through a park - and a rain started pouring all of a sudden. We both have no umbrellas on hands so had to urgently search for some tree of impressive size to have a chance for a cover under its mighty crone. This just-in-time rain made both of us even more intimate.
While we have been waiting for it to finish, laughing at how funny we managed to wet through in the rain during our joint travels, we had the time to talk a lot. I truly wasn’t mistaken - this girl had views very similar to mine or, to be more precise, she has been living by them. I had no idea how to describe that sensation which has grown in me during those fifteen-twenty minutes of our conversation. Have you ever felt sometimes that you have met your second half? That you, formally knowing each other for a shortest time span, have felt each other for a whole eternity? That a man, now standing close to you, understands you from a half-word, for so similar are your thoughts and so close are consciousnesses? If you felt this even a single time in your life, you would understand those sensations and feelings of which I speak.
And then the rain has come to an end - just as suddenly as it has begun - and we have continued our way, entering crowded city streets. We have been crossing them time and again, periodically turning back and forth - up hill and down dale, for we had something so much more appealing - we enjoyed a company of each other.
Then I (protesting in spirit against rules of actions, imposed to me by a society, but wishing to make her a pleasant thing) invited her to a cinema - and she refused. She told that it would be much better to return to that park which has made our day, instead of sitting in a stuffy hall, watching silly comedies or bloody action movies.
The girl refused a cinema. According to all that stereotypes, carefully constructed in consciousness of men, that was … strange, to say the least. Yet it seemed to me as if I understood her deeply during those instants of time.
And then we indeed returned to that rainy park, by that time already dried up by the rising sun. We were sitting together with her on a park bench and chatting. Those were wonderful moments of time, and I still cannot forget them.
I have no will to forget three months of our dating. I cannot forget her shining smile, as well as her during these moments - full of joy and happiness. Never will I forget our first kiss. I won’t cease remembering all our instants of time together with each other.
For even now I dare not forget my true love. Even … now.
* * *
I met a second girl purely by accident.
This happened just in time when I have been dating with my Tatyana. We were wandering through a park that day - were crossing a street when she came out of nowhere.
When we have almost overtaken over each other, both Tatyana and the girl, going towards us, have smiled and approached each other with a greeting. It appeared that the girl we have was Larissa, Tanya’s colleague on work.
They started chatting. I patiently awaited.
Approximately ten minutes after they said goodbye to each other, and Larissa went own way. Passing us by, she glanced at me and said aloud “And your guy is beautiful indeed …”, and Tanya answered that she’s a truly happy girl for now.
This day we didn’t encountered Larissa any more. And two weeks after I received I call from her on my office phone number.
* * *
Still wondering, how did she manage to get my office number. But apparently for ones such as she there are no things that cannot be broken in her wake to a selfish goal.
Then her constant one-after-another calls started along with a meetings offers. Threats were used after my tenth refusal. I don’t give a shit on her threats - I love … loved? Only Tanya.
I love just Tanya, only her! Oh my God, I have no desire to cause her harm, for I do love her! When will those torments finally end?! Her! Her … only … her …
Her threats were various. The last one was to “take me by force”, as she used to say. I wished her in, probably, the twentieth time to find another man who will fall in love with her and told her that there cannot be anything between me and her. Then she answered that if I am incapable to fall in love with her by the will of my own heart, then I shall do so by her own desire - and hanged up.
That was the beginning of that nightmare in which I have been living till now. Month after Larissa’s last call I and Tatyana have sworn. We have sworn!
Never, never, never before anything similar between us was ever imaginable - that was simply inadmissible … but the fact remains - a month later after mentioned events we have sworn. The reason was of purely of household nature, I still cannot understand how have I allowed myself such a tone?
For I do love her …!
That was the beginning of our constant quarrels.
I have no idea what overcame me those moments - I ceased to be true self. Wild, spiteful, aggressive … and always - every time I came home from work I found what to punish her for!
And first she tried to go on compromises, but after numerous repeats of my attacks she only started to cry further. Something pushed me even greater in these moments, I saw how she was crying … how she’s grieved … no, how she’s weak! - and thirsted to hit her even seriously! More painfully, more rigidly! So that she remember it well for the rest of her life! To let her know how’s that - to contradict me!
Silly bitch! Stupid girl! Idiotic woman! How was that ever possible for me to fall in love with her?! Vainglorious nasty creature!
Beast!
Oh my God, what’s the bullshit I am writing now? How do I dare thinking that way of my … beloved … girl?!
Beloved …
My beloved … dear … I know that you hear me even now, when we have become so distant from each other … forgive me for these lines … I had no desire … I don’t know what’s going on with me … feeling so hard … as if something presses on me, trying to flatten - time and again, methodically and persevering … I ceased to comprehend whether it’s I supervise myself, or someone unfamiliar to me controls me at present …
Ta … ta … nya … forgive, forgive me … if … you still can.
* * *
Our quarrels became the begging of the end of our relations - and mine - ours? - dream. At first I beat her with words - and then started beating with fists. And that was the last drop in a bowl of her patience. She sued for divorce - and we parted our ways.
We left each other … nay! - I have thrown away that silly woman! Yes! She made a right choice to clean wherever ones wishes! Oh my, such a mollycoddle! Gorgeous bitch!
There are women so much better than her! Indeed! … much … better.
* * *
Today I am going to meet my beloved Larissa once more. How much do I miss her … No more nasty Tatyanas - I desire only Larissa! I thirst for her … desire to be with her.
Yes, yes, yes! We shall be happy together - for we do love one another!
* * *
I … I … I know not … Sometimes … from time to time it seems to me, that I have no love for my Larissa … That … that it’s sort of a nightmare, that … that our love never existed … Oh, how dare I doubt that? I banish thee, nasty thoughts! Certainly, I do love her!
* * *
Today it was sweet … so … sweet. We loved each other … we were the one. I feel her body shyly shudders … I saw her closing the eyes in pleasure … and I blew up. We kissed and kissed each other endlessly - and couldn’t help doing another … Merged into a single whole. Oh, how truly sweet that was.
So who dared to say that I and Larissa do not complement each other? We were born to be a single whole!
* * *
Today Tanya came to me in my sleep. Tanya … my beloved Tanya …
Damnation! That devilish sentimentality comes again!
For a thousand times already I have come to a conclusion that my meeting with Tanya was but a monstrous mistake in my fate and I have no desire to rethink it over and over again. I love Larissa and only her.
Or … or maybe not?
* * *
No! For how long must I sustain it! How many torments are still awaiting me?! When will we stop to quarrel at last?! To finally talk heart-to-heart? Why … why does something constantly pulls me to her … why, why I cannot expel these feelings … this passion and inclination?!
I write of this now only to catch myself on a thought about her again … No way!!!
* * *
That’s a pure nightmare, a horror, a delusion! I am being torn apart - I have no love for her - but still being invisibly pulled to her! What sort of a terrible inclination is that, when have it born?
We are totally opposite, different with her - and we do not fit to each other! Why can’t I help thinking about her, can’t help visiting her each day after my work, cannot forget her?
Why can’t I forget her as a horrific dream?!
* * *
Today we quarreled once more. She said that doesn’t want to behold me any longer - and turned out. Muttered something about some grandma that cheated her, having closed the door, and swore.
And then I slept on a street. She finally accepted me back after a day, having cursed for decency. Strange … am I starting to like her insults?
No, I can’t bear it any longer! It all ends today. Today - or never!
* * *
The headache is becoming stronger with each passing moment and this itching pain starts spreading gradually over the body. Just one thing pleases me - today all legal formalities will be settled - and at the long last we will cease to be a husband and a wife any longer.
But how am I going to live for now without her - my faithful Larissa?!
Have I truly gone mad or does it just seems to me? Probably I am truly ill. Need to take a walk - fresh air will surely help me.
No, I definitely have no desire to live that way!
* * *
A lonely man, going along the street - his eyes are slightly closed and right hand keeps for a head. He’s being swayed here and there - from apart it almost seems that he’s simply yet another drunk individual. But those passers-by, who accidentally looked into these semi-covered eyes, rejected all those improper thoughts of him as another debauchee - for these eyes had practically no pupils - pupils had decreased to abnormal sizes and such a mortal melancholy lapped in them, that involuntary lookers immediately backed off.
A read traffic light - and cars begin their movement.
However, some unsteady man almost sees them not - as if he’s not able to see a red light, blocking the way … Now he has almost crossed half of the roadway …
“Watch out, red light!” - a shout of pedestrians reaches him - and a man starts turning to face the speaker.
Brakes, pressed against the stop. A squeal of rubber on the ground … A man starts turning towards the approaching car - and his eye pupils starts widening …
A crash.
* * *
- So, what happened to your friend?
- He died in a road accident … the car brought him down. Craniocereberal trauma and brain’s hemorrhage. When he has been transported to a hospital, he was already dead.
- I deeply regret.
- I know. These words are unnecessary.
- Как думаешь, почему он погиб?
- What are your thoughts of the cause of his death?
- I cannot judge for certain. Something strange was going on with him recently - and he became beside himself. Divorced from his wife Tatyana and married Larissa. To tell the truth, I couldn’t understand his choice - they were totally different. From the time of his divorce with Tanya he ceased to contact me anymore, despite our previous warm friendship. I still not fully understand what made him take those rash steps.
- And how are now Tatyana and Larissa fare, do you know?
- Tatyana married another man and moved to a different city - I know nothing of her further destiny. And as for Larissa … Larissa died. She was killed.
A speaker sighted.
- Some maniac trapped her in a lane, when she was coming back home. Raped at first, and then cut with a knife. A body was found in a cellar of one of the next building approximately a week after the events.
- It’s all that terrible.
- Yes, very sad indeed.
- Still that doesn’t explain the motives of his behavior several months prior to his death.
- Yes, it doesn’t. However - and speaking man smiled - I guess I have some clue.
And having that said he took out a small pile of papers from his portfolio.
- Here, take it. This is a diary he has been writing - or at least that part which I have managed to get my hands on, when levy of execution was being performed. I didn’t look it through yet, but if you seem so interested in the question of his motives … here, take it and read, probably you’ll be able to find an answer there.
- Yes, let me take a look at that thing.
And a man opened the pages …
13.07.2011