When life boils around, and you understand perfectly, that nobody pays attention to your experiencing and alarms, you become wicked either disgustingly or – that much better on the face of it – quite indifferent to yourself, as if following the example of surrounding drunk, smell of tobacco, wrapped showy happiness of one night of people which want one only – cheered.
A storm. Rather unusual thing in the early spring there. The sky was fully occupied with gloomy clouds that seemed to be grey, dirty and dusty bags for a common walker. Tom has been hating storms since early childhood. He didn't know why, just disgust.
- Gosh! Margaret, close the windows immediately!
- But it's so hard to breath here! It's so hot!
- Margie, - his voice reduced, - You know how much I hate all that lightning stuff!
- Ew, little Tommy is afraid of a thunderstorm! It's so humiliating! - She teased sarcastically laughing.
- At least I'm not screaming that it's hot here after speaking with who-knows-what-count boyfriend!
- That's not your case, shortbass!
- Insolent, foolish girl!
-How can you dare! You. You!.. But I'm your sister?!
-No buts honey! - Tom parried, closing the windows. Margaret was going to continue her speech about brother's behavior, but suddenly mobile phone sounded with the best loudness it could. Helen, her best-friend was calling.
-Hi, my friend! How are you?
- I'm fine, thankies! You definitely should go to the Black Hill! Otherwise you'll miss very interesting event and then annoy me with questions!
-Oh, is that so seriously?
- Sure it is! See ya!
-Yep. - Margie twisted. - I should find some proper dress for that.
The journey to Black Hill took a half and an hour. This hill was called “Black” because there was growing nothing but brown grass and the very dark ground. They say that some centuries ago an oil-derrick was here. But then something happened and it was destroyed with a village around. Strange legend. Margaret came with Tom.
- What the hell is this, - Helen pointed on a boy when they moved closer, - doing here? I told you to come along!
- But my mother, you know.
- I wish I didn't. - Helen smiled tiredly.
- So, what interesting event is going on here that you called us? - Tom asked.
- That's not your case, small one!
- You're mistaken! Now it's mine too. - Sarcastic smile with calling.
- Both of you shut up! They can hear us!
- Who “they”?
- Didn't you know? Every 21 of December, the Solstice, a sect called “Night keepers” come to meet a unique sunset. They call it “Sirius Sol” which takes place once in 500 years. And it has some special am. powers.
- Very funny! - Tom grinned.
- No one is going to have fun, small one. - Alex, Margaret's boyfriend, warned squeezing boy's shoulder. - Come on girls, it's begun.
A group of teenagers went behind huge stones, shining under the lights of sunset. In a ten meters or so night-shifters stood, forming a hexagram. There was a man, dressed in white with golden decorations in the centre. As a time passed the sunlight fell with a special angle, showing sacred symbols-scratches.
- Gosh, it's like a self-made Stonehenge! - Tom shouted.
- Shhh, - Alex covered Tom's mouse with his hand, - they can hear us!
Night-shifters really heard teenagers. But the performance was so exciting that they didn't want to interrupt.
-Listen to me, oh ancient ones! I summon you to step aside and allow me in this dark night to take the rule of thee! In the name of a Solstice, so mote it be!” - A man shouted. But nothing changed.
- Oh man! You've got everybody's fool again! - Another man from hexagram, screamed. - You promised that this time it will but it haven't! I'm getting rid of that. Enough, I'm leaving! - He tried to leave the hexagram but no, like an invisible wall appeared.
- No one goes anywhere, - the leader's voice became shivering and deep bass. - Verbum caro factum!!!
And echo repeated this many times. The sun became bright yellow shining and sighing the new coming. Then fully white like frost water. And the world changed wave-like.
Breath in. Open the door. Watch the carefree Nature play. Breath out. Make a few steps towards new life. There's no way back. A blue titmouse flittered from a branch. The drops of water fell down, overflowing with sunshine. Fresh air. Nicely done he should notice. Go farther. Pass a few benches and old women sitting on them. From the one hand it's rather common urban landscape, from the other - too urban. A stupid young child bicycle rider who tries to hit you anytime you meet with him. No, you won't argue or curse him in every possible way as usual. You just won't pay attention on it. In fact today there's more important business. Smile. People like idiots. Solemnly heaved up mood. He is going under prop of an angled pipe, touching its rough rusty surface. Seems to feel good. The keyword is “seems”. Goes down the hill, when suddenly the covey of pigeons rises in sky deafeningly flapping their wings. Beautiful but it just seems. Breath in. Lungs are filling with oxygen. Feel its weightless ponderability. Cross the street while being delighted. He enters the shop.
- Good afternoon, Mrs. Parcket.
- Good afternoon, Tom. What are you going to buy? - She writhed. People like idiots, remember?
- I want some razor. Sharp one, - he smiled too.
- Okay, two pounds of powder then. - Mrs. Parcket became puzzled. Razors are not very demandable goods in this locality. Since Seers limited the amount of it. Tom picked up the powder in the pocket and stretched it to the woman.
- Here it is.
-Thanks. - Again writhe exchanging. The door bell rang sighing the leaving visitor.
Wind tousled his jacket. Step by step he goes getting surer. Surer in the way he has chosen. Clear step, surrounded by an echo giving oneself up on a spacious street. Dusty. Hot air hits him, braking in the nose and deeper. Breath in. Out. Let wind to play with your hair. Let it move wavelike. Watch. Memorize everything you see now. Don't stop. The state of his mind could be described as cold calmness. No emotions. Just realization of the fact what he's doing. Understanding comes as soon as he reaches home. Open the door. Just a few moments are dividing you from the life you've always wanted. He comes in. Takes off his coat. Relaxation. Gets the razor out of the pocket. Unpacks it. It's really sharp. The letter is printed and lies on a table. He comes into the bathroom. Sees a reflection in the mirror. Deep breathe. Tom hears the violin playing. It's sad. The Seers can do plenty of different things to stop a human. And in his case it's violin. As lonely and despaired as he is. They see your smile. This gonna be the last time. Happiness? You can at least take revenge on them for all. Selfish? Nah! It's just payback time. They're watching you laughing. It enlarges your life lens. The Seers are excited but only till the moment you take the razor in your right hand, sit in the empty bath, strip your left wrist. Caress it with razor. It happens so, that in the soul, as ... in a naked body, the weightless and burning clot of pain enters. And warmly slides on a skin, growing into red uneven and a little sticky track, where life and death by single viscid mass flow down in a puddle. The Seers are in panic. Screaming and rushing to a place, where the total crash of their put right machine starts. Meanwhile the beads of life as well as brooks flow down on a wrist. They burst in an apartment, throwing out a door.
- I'll stand till the end, - Tom whispers weakly.
- You wouldn't dare! - The Seer leader shouted.
- Of course I would, - he laughs, but it looks like coughing. Blinding white light, breaking from a puddle, tore off a dispute, filling the room.
The perfect silence. It's distinguishing feature of her lessons. She hates any noise, leafing through, clicking a pen and everything she may consider to be improper. So called “mental lessons”, where she's always rammed the Seer's ideology: every esoteric practice or even knowledge is forbidden. It isn't allowed under the fear of being immediately executed. Instead of this the Seers guaranteed long life and prosperity. And people believed them. Only individuals, who could somehow get the forbidden information tried to strike. The society considered such people as impure. Sure they are, because can plenty of people be wrong? Nope, of course not! Because it's much easier to hook a label on the individuals then to find the mistakes in your points of view!
- Today I'll tell you about the origin of “magic” and those myths that you call “supernatural”.
- Oh, crap! She's started this never-ending story, - Tom whispered.
- Silence! - She cried out. - You have no right to say curse words!
- Do you have it? - Sarcastic smile. - I am fed to the teeth with your narrow thinking! Every day starts with brainstorming about what is and what should never be. Gosh, it's three times disgusting!!!
- Tommy, - pretending to sweet intonation, - why can't you understand the simplest thing: all that stories are just fiction of those, who have nothing to do but to talk nonsense?! There are just you and me and other common things. No spirits, ghosts, magic!
- Salus non eas (you are not alone), - he said calmly. The perfect silence became clear. She gave him a bored look. The masticator muscles were strained to the limit, showing a small pulsing vein. The tension was so big that it seemed that the air could be cut with a knife. A door was softly opened. Seven persons in claret cassocks came in.
- The Seers, - she whispered with fanatic brilliance in eyes, inclined a head in the sign of respect. The classmates suddenly got up cuddling to the wall.
- Well, well, well, - the Seers leader started, - what do we have here? Hmm. A small disobedient boy, who was so impatient that sacrificed his life for a will to stand his ground.
- To break away - showier, than to
withstand,
To break up - more romantic, than
to protect.
To renounce - more pleasant, than
to insist,
And to die is the easiest thing. - Tom gave distracted look. He was on the limit. How could people act like nothing happens?!! How could they forgot their personalities? How could they live acknowledging the Seers as truth in the last instance?
- Ok, Tom or how's your name, be good boy. - leader writhed. - You know our laws. You will be executed. According to our Codex, it should be held before the dawn, but, according to the Codex again, the time of execution may be changed by some “special” circumstances. So, why should we wait? Let's do it! Right now, - his face ran back in a gloating smile.
- So mote it be. - Tom's eyes became wet. He gave a look at the terrified classmates who watched with horror and honor at the Seers but with equal hate for him.
- Hey, guys! Are you in your mind?! This dumb shortbasses are going to kill me and you would just watch, being afraid to make even one move that can be against them?? Who are they definitely for you???
- Those, who've been saving your dumbass for centuries! - A woman in claret cassock but with some unidentified symbol cried out.
- Olivia, - the leader touched her shoulder, - you shouldn't start so fast.
- But Walter. I'm trying to.
- Enough. Let's do it. - Leader commanded, - say goodbye to your friends, freak. I know that you have them. Oh, sorry, had.
Bitter lump glided to boy's throat. He wanted to cry and scream and run and wished to wake up considering all this stuff to be just a nightmare. He restrained himself with enormous effort of will. Tom looked on the people with whom he'd lived for years, stopping on every face, looking deeply inside, attempting to find even the smallest spark of disagreeing. Classmates hided their eyes. But there were nothing but hate and fear. Face by face Tom realized that the people who were standing near the wall and ought to be unique personalities were nothing. Nothing but mute sheep, waiting a blow by a lash for satisfaction of Master. Making no step to protect their points of view. Friends. Tom looked at the person whom he considered to be close friend. Maybe even best one. And on “friend's” face could be read only disgust and conviction. And then something broke inside. Tom was despaired. The only hope, damn, the only person whom he wanted to show the Truth by itself betrayed him. He wished to fall down on his knees, to be clutched in a corner from everything and all, to become little and unnoticeable, to be forgotten. Constricting heart. Trembling hammered in his body.
- Temporal mutantur et nos mutamur in illis (the times are changing and we are changing with them), - he whispered. The “friend” answered only with a terrified look. Meantime, the Seers surrounded Tom, standing to form septagram star.
- Magician's star, - he mentioned. - And now try to persuade me that there's nothing supernatural!? - cried out with a note of challenge.
- Shut up!!! - the woman shouted. - Walter, do not pull the rubber!
- Deus, et Pater Domini nostril Jesu Christi invoco nomen sanctum tuum, - the Seers are rising their hands, - et clementiam tuam supplex exposco: ut adversus huno, et omnem immundum spiritum, qui vexat hoc plasma tuum. Mihi auxilium paestare igneris. Per eumdem Dominum. Amen.
- The Forbidden language, - the teacher mysteriously whispered.
-“Oramus Oratio” - Tom shouted, - but I'm not possessed!!!
- No sweetie, you are mistaken, - the woman writhed. - How can you be clean, while saying such bullshit?
- Tommy! - Sheila, one of the classmates, murmured, pushing every obstacles on her way to him. Then suddenly stopped by an invisible wall.
- Get out! - Walter said, blowing the girl with the wind to opposite direction.
- Hey you, shortbass, get away from her! - Tom was rushing to Sheila when suddenly something wicked threw him aside. He's laying on a flour. Fall out. Darkness.
Tom found himself a few moments later. The view of world around is soothing and wet with some strange multicolor spheres slowly moving from one edge to another. Deep breathe in. Lungs are answering with pain at the rude break in of an air. Head is terribly aching.
- Oh crap, - he moaned, - the Seers there, the Seers here. Is there any place where they do not exist?...
- Oh son of a bitch is awakening? - Walter laughed. - Keep reading! - And the couple of voices continued, becoming dozens and hundreds and thousands. Tom has lost the consciousness.
Breathe out. Cold floor freezes him. Stand up. Feel the dizziness. Give a look at triumphing Seers, horrified surrenders, sorrowful girl. Try to catch a balance. Get ringing slap in the face. Fall down on your knees. And stop restraining of yourself. Your eyes are wet and tearing. Drops of water running over the chin and go farther. Your eyes are red. A trigger hook is pressed. Angriness is rising in you. Sometimes there is nothing more wonderful than clean like a mountain crystal of malice, which inflames like flame somewhere deeply, inwardly paints a pupil in coal-red, boils blood, revives veritable nature of each of us. Tom stands up. His eyes are filled with danger.
- Spiritus immundi, ungularum suarum emittite paulatim iram. - He says definitely every word, giving loudness and feeling of power. - Dominus, persona carnis ossisque, toti mundi, trepidationais pennarum, tu appellatus vir, veritas et mensura. - The earthquake starts shivering everyone and everything, presenting cracks, meandering on walls, floor and ceiling. - In murum somni pii, - classmates are screaming rushing, pulling and twisting to save their lives. But teacher is standing calmly, with a full of hope and despair look. The Seers are falling down. - Spiritus immundi, ungularum suarum emittite paulatim iram. - One big crack appears under Tom, widening and deepening.
- Did you see that? - Walter shouted. - Did you see that?! This is an antichrist in flesh and blood in your class.
- Anti. what? - Sheila asked.
- Antichrist! - Walter three times repeated a vocabulary, consisting only from stylistically painted phrases. - Never mind! Ok, all of you saw that. So, you won't argue that this boy is impure?! - No one answered. Silence is a sign of consent.
Breathe in. Feel the pain that you are used to. Smile, because the Seers consider you to be the most foolish fool than ever. Remember, who you are. He is tired. Tired enough of proving his truth. The truth that should be the only. Can you forgive them? Or there is your fault? It was you to prove, to fence, to hide.
- I want you to die! - Walter cried out. - I won't allow some little selfish bustard to crash my perfect plan.
- Do you want to kill me? Get in line, bitch! - Tom snarled. But immediately received a hit on his face. There is a stunning tingle. Fall out.
He enters the classroom, attracting the attention of its “citizens”. They try to act like nothing happened, but the very moment when Tom turns away, they start to fence and tittle-tattle. Mental lesson starts. Teacher comes in.
- Wow, children look at this beautiful picture: we can see the impure among us! What an honor! - she gave sarcastic bow. - So, maybe you can tell us something outstanding? Go to the board!
- Ew! The impure is going to the board! Ew, it's so disgusting! - Classmates started shouting.
- Hey, children! Stop teasing. - She said just for a bureaucratic procedure, but it was with a naked eye evidently that she was getting pleasure. Day by day the news widened the school and everyone never missed a chance to mock at Tom. But let they go to hell! The most painful was that nobody of his friends was fastidious to throw a stone in him. Either close or not ones. But the time passed. And he has been used to it. When life boils around, and you understand perfectly, that nobody pays attention to your experiencing and alarms, you become wicked either disgustingly or - that much better on the face of it - quite indifferent to yourself, as if following the example of surrounding drunk, smell of tobacco, wrapped showy happiness of one night of people which want one only - cheered. It seems in such minutes, that all problems are imagined, exaggerated. It is anesthesia, the same anesthetic, that does not treat an infection, but simply on some time delivers a man from sickly symptoms, allowing after to feel everything with renewed strength - both disappointment and own uselessness, and all other, what only you would wish.
Tom trembled, convulsively seizing air. He remembered. Every fence and curse words he had been tortured. Impure. A shortcut that means a person to be out of any moral or equal bounds. But for what? Why did they managed to enforce such models of behavior?.. Similarity? Smart-assed alikeness of models of human reactions on internal or external surroundings? Yep. Majority does not make mistakes. Majority is always right. But as usual, individuals are considered to be freaks, others. By pressing them, the society tries to approve themselves first of all in their eyes and only after that cover it with a curtains of avant-garde flows either democracy or humanistic direction. But from the other hand, the way individuals are being treated is a fault of themselves? What if they couldn't stand their ground enough for resist. The most convenient is to pretend an individual and complaining around that you are not understood by others, then gritting your teeth, biting the lips till they bleed and feeding with sour tears withstand your state of mind against the fucking evil!!!
Tom is shivering, cutting the veins again and again converting his arm in a formless mass of red and violet. Suddenly two men catch him forcing to stand still, but he, because of large blood loss, angles and attempts to fall down.
- Poor boy. Have you ever thought that there is something to be sacrificed for Highest Better? And in your case it's you. I find it cute. - Walter grinned. - I was going to save your dumbass but I've changed my mind. You know, I've being thinking about why should I stay you alive and then spend thousand neurons just for bothering wether you gonna make any stuff like today or even something more dangerous?! - Tom didn't answer. - Okay than, I'm tired of this monolog. I call the power of Universe to stand upon my side, erase this ugly boy from the space and time!
- Retes magiae non tangebit mei. Ego tectus sum. - Tom slowly moved his lips. Breath in. Out.
A heart is slowering its beats.
Forces, abandoning body.....
It slowly in eyes darkles....
Like it is usual course....
If you watch it in the cinema....
But here you are starring...
And there is no possibility to hurry....
Alas, but not to overact the life...
Don't hurry from a fate!
From her you can't elope!
When slowly breathing thy
have no one to look in the eyes....
Make a deep breath in. Feel the painless oxygen presence. Open your eyes, slowly, enjoying every move and every thought. Warmth covers your body. Make a yawn. It's dark here, isn't it? He gets off the bed, dresses on, goes downstairs, opens the door towards the pre-morning atmosphere. Night hasn't gone yet, but somewhere on the far-far away skyline light of an ascending sun rots. You are going, and a grass touches your feet, granting refreshing coolness. The grass by touch seems like silk . You're moving through grayish haze, when an easy breeze gently hugs you as an old friend. A few steps forward have been passed, and you sit down above a swift high precipice, light-heartedly letting down feet above a precipice. You will conduct a hand above a greenish cover, collecting drops of dew on hands. You are inclining head slightly ahead, conducting cool hands on face. Breathe in the aroma of morning nature. Life-giving coolness spreads on your face - stays on eyebrows diamond-like drops, on a nose, creating the illusion of frozen space, on fluffy cilia, creating the halo of mysterious charming. Sunrise. Sky is painted in a scarlet on the East. Little rays are pushing through the curtain of night, rushing the fineness to earth. And when they give the first speck of light, it seems to you that they, like arrows, pierce your heart... Rays are becoming more. He turns and looks around. A wonderful picture appears for his view: trees of incredible beauty, wonderful animals, surprising flowers. Dance, dance in the morning light. Open your darkened eyes. Hey, it's a beautiful day. It'll be ok. It'll be ok.
The Seers are in panic. They're stunned with a fact that it has happened. Not so that it did not take place before, it did, anyway. On their experience already there were cases of shortening the life. But the angel of death has never been interested in this till now. Certainly, they do their business, he does his, but, however, something was warning.
- Walter, what are we supposed to do?
- Let me see, each dead guy disappears in the very moment of death, right?
- Right.
- But this, while being dead for a half of an hour, didn't even paled!
- Not good, - she noticed.
- I think, - one of the man said, - we should make some “show” that will tell that idiots, what would happen to them if they decide to make a suicide.
- It's a rather good idea, you know. We'll arrange it this night.
- But it is a night before Solstice! - Olivia noticed.
- I don't think that it would make the weather, - Walter skeptically remarked. It should be said that self-indulgence in this person is over enough.
It was darkling. A sun was burning out with the last sparks somewhere on sundown. Tom convolved on a small ledge. Earth pleasantly cooled hot for a day body, and pleasant noise of surf was hearing from a sea. He was tired. Although he shouldn't have to. The whispering of waves calmed. And a fellow slowly flew to meet to oblivion. Quickly and swiftly, but simultaneously slowly and unbearably long. The pictures of his life swept over before eyes. Here he snatched out candy from a large shaggy creature and complacently made himself to taste her. And it, a creature, whom his elder sister appeared, began with the deep feeling to tell another, not yielding on the degree of shagginess, but already far wider in shoulders, with such interesting hillocks on arms, what charming younger brother she had. And here he was already much elder. His friends and he got out on a picnic. A mood was excellent and in stead of beginning the very important mission of feeding of wild stomachs, which to the right and to the left sounded about itself, accepted selflessly to tickle each other. As a conclusion, friends, laughing loudly and being tired, fell down on a grass. Tom felt himself so good as never before. In that very moment he for the first time realized that someone needed him indeed. Why have he remembered all of that right now? Is this a mist suitable moment?? It's just consciousness. Consciousness that does take care about him. Giving desired salvation to a tortured with pain for a long time mind. Tom breathed through sleep sorrowfully. Conducted unconsciousness a hand over green cover, unexpectedly stuck in on something hard and noticeably hot. Somnolence vanished instantly. A fellow suddenly opened widely his eyes. It has been dark yet. And stars were visible. Tom half-closed the eyes: flame blazed in two steps in front of him. The caldron darkened of soot hung on it, from which pleasant aromas and strange bubbling were hearing every now and again. A young girl sat opposite him.
Brunette with long hair, falling on her shoulders, breast. She was dressed in marching cloak. Dark green eyes, catching the reflections of dancing fire, got a bluish tint. That's why it seemed, that a creature, sitting in front of you, has obviously supernatural origin, even only due to surprising beauty.
- Who are you? - Tom sat up squat.
- Hello, - her face gone in a winning smile. It is I here, came on your call.
- My call? - a fellow with distrust threw up an eyebrow. She nodded silently.
- E. What is your name? - a foolish, obviously inappropriate mien.
- I have a lot of names. Someone calls Bony old Woman, someone, endangering, - Reaper, someone - old friend, and someone - the last enemy. I come, when time comes. Time of changes. My name is Morana. It means..
- Death. - fellow interrupted her. - Latin language. I know. - he is closing his eyes slowly. - One of the thousand of kinds of one of thousands of similar angels of death. Servants of something there Higher.
- No. You're wrong. I am Death. It is my servants which you've named.
- It is impossible. - his voice shivered.
- Everything is possible, - she smiled. If they are just representatives, I am the essence, an avatar.
- Why did you come exactly to me?
- Well, you know, I was bored a little bit, but then you appeared. Hotshot and strong. You still have unfinished businesses.
- And?
- You go along with me. I will help you. - she stretches out a hand in a conveying invitation gesture. He goes ahead. - A little fallen angel on your shoulder.
It's twenty minutes past one. Astronomic midnight. On a central area there were nowhere an apple to fall down. People crowded heaps, trying to walk up as much nearer to the stage in a center as they could. But a pedestal was surrounded by a platoon constabulary and soldieries in all armor.
- It is time to begin, - Walter whispered to Olivia. A girl went out on the edge of the stage. Heaved up the hand. Fuss was halted. Quiet.
- Today we gathered together here, - she underlined a word «we» specially, but actually Seers drove away it all on ostensible appearance, absolutely not being interested, whether they want to go or not. Although such approach, fastened by ages of practice, a long ago firmly sat in a subconsciousness. - Today we gathered together here, to see what suicide is and what happens with a man, committing on it!
Crowd began to cry, insatiable, demanding bread and show. Intimidated herd, taciturnly looking after mocking at a man. Bloodsuckers and weak, measurelessly hard to themselves, but infinitely hypocritical and obliging before those, who declared themselves higher than them, but actually are far below than plinth. Now it the assemblage of rogues with dropping over the chins saliva yelled and required a show.
- Walter, does not it seem to you that it already too? Look at the muzzles of these beasts!
- Erik, since what ages have you become afraid of pitiful people? - he answered with a mockery. - Better shut up and begin!
Seers surrounded a dead body, embarked on hands, and began to whisper some nonsense in a singsong voice. But nothing flustered the people. They stood, as if in a trance, changing one leg to another. Waited. Seers continued mumbling.
- Erik, what the hell is that ? Why does not he come back to life???
- Don't be nervous, I do not know. - he said through the closed eyes. - Just continue acting like nothing happened.
Meantime, obviously such stuck the middle of night on a frost annoyed people a bit, therefore all began to be engaged in suitable businesses. Someone yawned frankly, falling asleep on a neighbor shoulder, and someone began slowly discussing about the prospects of development of the state. Walter was rather nervous. Sweat was flowing down the brooks on his face. He's already three times repeated the mightiest invocations not only in Latin but also in Egypt, ancient Greek and in only Walter-knows-what languages. But the body is impudent and lay selflessly, not giving even the least of progress.
- What a masquerade did they arrange there? - Tom walked up close to the pedestal. - Holy crap! Am I such frightful???
- They try to revive you. - Morana smiled warmly.
- And it seems unsuccessfully. - he looks, wondering, how the Seers are groaning above a lifeless body. - are they really such brainless? - he threw up an eyebrow foolishly.
- No, of course not, you would already a long time ago suffer in the cage of a flesh and blood, if it there were not one «but».
-And what is that «but»?
- It is I! - she smiled complacently.
- Really?
- Aha, only here is another point. - she half-closed her eyes. - you should agree to get through all of it again.
- And do I have a choice?
- A choice, exactly as well as illusion, is always. And if it is not - it can be imagined. - now Morana have been laughing already. - So, are you ready?
- Yes. - he whispered, barely moving the lips.
«Vivere est vivere.» - Seers have being repeating time after time, already hoping on nothing.
Breath in. Open your eyes. Try to stand on your knees. Ohm, it's dizzy. Make and few steps forwards, when and powerful energy ball gets you fly.
- Look! - Walter yelled. - Look, fools, that will be with you!!! Would you want to pass through the Personal Hell?!
- Ashes to ashes, blood to blood. - Seers repeated, loosening, as a pendulum. Tom appeared in the white flat desert, where a burning sun will eat away him with every hour all stronger, where a heat and frost are mixed in a wild cocktail, interrupting each other, changing so often, that it is already impossible with exactness to say, whether you die of slow frost-bite or toasted on a giant frying pan. Pain, fear, despair, offense step by step tore his body, his soul. Flashbacks, distorting, were bringing consciousness the perverted pictures. «It is your fault! It all is your fault!! Look, how many people you endangered. Nonentity! So naively desiring to become a man. There is no forgiveness to you! Look around! Did it seem to you that you are a victim? No, you definitely are a forward!!! Die.» - voices sweetly echoed so successfully dubbing suitable pictures.
- No!! It all is a lie, slander! No, such have never happened!!! No! My God it hasn't!!! - his screaming tore a nightly quiet, a body fought in agony. People were squealing of pleasure.
Tom stood in the middle of the desert. Opposite him sorrowfully inclining the heads people stood near him.
- You betrayed us. How is it possible to be such egoist?.. We never did you nothing bad. Why we deserved such gratitude? - they finished off Tom in sequence.
- Forgive me, native ones, forgive.. - and tears were poured like streams, baking a skin, abandoning brackish taste on the lips.
- You'll never be strong enough, you'll never be good enough. - and an echo set out the words, filling all the space.
Morana rose slowly, passing through crowd. Got around the ring of guard.
- Hey you! - a non-commission officer answered in rough voice. - Stay where you stand!
- I have the special admission, - she conducted a hand on his cheek. Intent look, penetrable far in the depths of subconsciousness.
- You will allow her to go! - a non-commission officer cried. His phrase repeated once or twice, was passing odes of one soldier to other. Meantime Morana, gracefully approached a pedestal.
- Hey! - Morgan, one of the Seers, endowed her with inflaming look.
- Ups, - with an innocent mien she conducted a hand on hairs, shaking off tailings of disgraceful igniting invocation from them. Walked up nearer to the screaming body of those, whose reason was forgotten at back of own mind, contesting with prejudices. She directed a look high into the air, air became frosty, and a steam, breaking forth from a hot body, rose, meandering, as a snake. Then they saw, not Tom, but unique, unique picture, - the Personal Hell.
- Necare! - Walter fired. Morana smiled only. The eyes of leader got out from orbits. - And who are you to resist death?
- And who the hell are you to use my methods against me?! - metallic faint notes were felt deeply in her rich voice.
- Introduce yourself! - Olivia cried up, caught the hairs of a girl.
- On my opinion, I have a right, - Morana broadcasted in cold voice. Her eyes slowly rolled up, leaving empty eye sockets which was soon filled sparkling flame, bent in the sign of the broken eternity. Seers closed up the joined heap round Tom. People stood, taken in the Personal Hell, sinking in an own lie and hopelessness. Fall out.
Hot air distorted perception. And flying from everywhere sand tried to fly anywhere. Tom lays on the back. A breast roses slowly, but he's not sleeping. Tom was low-spirited morally, as pressed out lemon. Indifference was the only thing, that he could distinguish yet.
- Get up, you must do a choice. - Morana touched his hand.
- Why?...
- To live farther.
- I do not want, I am indifferent.
- Don't lie to me. I see you through.
- I do not lie.
- No. It is not.
- All right, do you want the truth?
- Yes, - she nodded.
- Of pain there are different kinds -
There is one, that prevents you to live,
That breaks any type of will
And does not let to forget
There is one, that burns out the tears,
And pain, which makes you to scream,
There is one, that like a dull splinter
Aches, even when you sleep.
There is pain, like enormous sea,
And one - like a dew steps at dawn.
Of pain there are different kinds
And I've tasted them all.
Sunrise. Sirius Sol. People are rising fluently, walking away from previous events. Seers shake off the mantles. Morana sat near the body of Tom, passionless looking through him. Seeing this Walter asked:
- Mrs., what was that?
- Where the confines of the waking world
Blend with the world of dreams
I captured this fancy
Where all that we see or seem is
but a dream within and dream.
Morana got up, walked slowly on a pedestal. Wind touched her hairs hardly, frosty air gave oneself up a whiteness. Cold. Eternal pitch-dark cold. Everywhere and always. And once it was summer, warm and tender. Loneliness. She could take away with herself Tom. And live so for ever and ever long. But he made the choice. It is sorry. But all could be different. She walked up to the dead body, walked piercing a look on everyone, and then pronounced quietly, but because of something this whisper became audible for a lot of miles from here:
«... All his life is surrealism. Delirium of got off from a mind creator, dipping his hands in the mishmash of paints of reality...»
А так же :
Алжан
Жармухамедов
Заслуженный мастер спорта, Девятикратный Чемпион СССР, Трехкратный Чемпион Европы, Олимпийский Чемпион Родился 02 10.1944г. в поселке Таваксай Ташкентской области Узбекской ССР. Мать - Жеронкина-Жармухамедова Прасковья Александровна.-(род. 22.10.1909г). Отец - Жармухамедов Мусурбек (1905г.рожд.) Супруга Новикова-Жармухамедова Лариса Петровна.
записано на marantz pmd620
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