Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
читать дальшеCHAPTER 1 I was lying on my sofa, unable to preceive reality, time and even my own body. I felt nothing but loathing, incredible loathing for myself, this world, circumstances which interfere people's business every time. I felt so weak I couldn't move my fingers, even though I wasn't tired at all. I couldn't say how long I have been lying here, what the time was, whether there anyone else in my flat except me. An empty shell eaten away - this is how I felt while staring at the wall lit by sunlight.
The pattern on my old, but still barely dingy wallpaper seemed to me a kaleidoscope of colourful dots. And somewhere far away I heard sounds of the street - cars' noise, someone's voice, rustling of the leaves. Usual summer day became for me the day when everything was ruined. As if all the wicked powers decided to remember about me today.
However, there were no signs of trouble at the beginning of this day. As usual I got up earlier and went to work. But, when I drove away not so far from my home, something terrible, which I don't even want to remember, happened. The car driving next to me was smashed before my very eyes by a lorry lorry. But this didn't scare me, neither did the sight of crumpled metal which was quite a new and good car a few seconds before. Me and this poor driver have been driving close to each other. If I had started a few seconds earlier, I would have been on his place. I have to say that feeling death so close to you is rather unnerving. So I decided to take a longer but safer way to my office. The result of my excessive prudence is obvious - I was late. But this wasn't the worst thing that happened. In fact no one cared about such things as did I come in time, whether I was late or didn't come at all. The company I worked in has gone bankrupt and no one was going to pay us our already delayed salary. So I went here only to know that I lost my job. To know that my near, or, maybe, even further future is going to be really bad.
Not so long ago I had decided to replan my flat, and borrowed some money from the bank. I didn't want to, but didn't have enough on my own to do it. I was supposed to pay off with debts the next week, but I hardly had money to buy food for myself. Angry and annoyed, I went back home thinking that that would be the way to escape any more problems. I was wrong. When I just entered my flat I saw my girlfriend in the hallway. When she noticed me, she asked why I was not in my office. This time I got really mad. I shouted at her saying that I've lost my job and her silly questions are the last thing I'd like to hear. She listened to me silently and then just left without even saying a word. So, to sum this day up, in less than a half of it I am jobless and moneyless for an unknown period of time, I've got rather big debts which I can't pay off, an undone flat I can't complete, unnerving feeling of obscurity and loneliness... and a lack of understanging of how to live after all that.
As if laughing at me, sun was shining very brightly and noise from the street became loud and annoying. The world itself was mocking me, it was glad that there was such a loser as me. The longer I stared at the wall the more I saw it as like through a thin black net before my eyes. It was really thin, almost invisible, but it was quite obvious for me to see everything in gloomy shades of gray. It felt as if my own eyes wanted to hide from me everything that could make me feel better. It wanted to remind me what kind of day this day is. A dark day. A dead day...
Dead Days...
When these two words came to my mind I remembered something from my past. I had many friends with different tastes, characters and interests, but one of them was completely different from others and his behavior was always weird and even scary sometimes. On the very day we met he told me about some evil creatures called Holders, and some "Objects", that they're guarding, trials that one who wants to get an Object has to pass. Many days ago we were good frineds and these stories seemed exciting to me. I learnt many of them by heart since me and my friend even wanted to pass a trial. However, we never managed to do it, even though we thought very often about it. A long time passed, and I forgot about my strange desire of such adventures. At least I thought so. As for my friend, his behavior became really weird. He moved to a different part of the city and sold almost all his posessions. I was worried about him. I went to visit him to know what was going on. When I went into his flat, I realized, that something strange was happening. His flat was empty, except for one cheap and uncosy bed. And my friend seemed to be starving and his hands were trembling. I asked what was wrong with him. He started to shake even more and told me that he passed a Holder's trial and now he's a Seeker. I would be lying if I said that I could keep my composure when I heard it. I don't remember what exactly I said to him - I suppose it was something like "Why are you behaving like a kid?" or "You've completely lost your mind! Stop telling that!" But his reaction to my insults were weird and scary. He put his hand under the pillow without saying a word and showed me something that looked like a small rusty key. I don't know why, but when I looked at it I felt sick and dizzy. My friend was saying something, but I couldn't hear him. The only thing I could do is to ask him to take the strange thing away. When he did it I told him never to tell me about Holders again. Curiously enough, he obeyed me - We met several times after that and I never heard these stories anymore since then. However, after his strange behavior I was really curious as to whether these stories were real or not. I even wanted to find the truth by myself. And now by chance I was in the situation one on these stories described - I felt so bad and empty that I could see something like a black net before my eyes.
"So do it or not?", I thought, looking at my clenched fist. I remembered perfectly what happens to Seekers who fail and I wasn't sure neither in his stories' veracity nor whether I'll be a good Seeker. But later I decided that I still have nothing to lose. So I looked at the wall again - as if nothing had changed - and said, making my voice sound scornfully: "Instead of gnawing me show the right way."
My words echoed through all my flat - the silence here was so unnerving and stressful. I expected a reaction to my words - a loud sound, strike, or unbearable pain. My mind was ready for everything, even to be torn to pieces. But nothing happened at all. No strange feelings, no outsiders, no unfamiliar sounds. Only the same sun filling the wall with old wallpaper with light, the same street noise, the same black net before my eyes. Even this feeling didn't go away. It seemed like my friend told me nothing but tales. As I had expected.
However, when I only thought about it, I heard a loud crack and the wind whistling behind me. Not so long ago I was prepared to face everything, but at that moment I flinched and looked behind. But when I did, I saw there was nothing to worry about. Just, the window I always kept ajar was now opened widely. Probably that happened only because of the sharp gust of wind.
I got up from my sofa and went to window. Moving my numb legs was very hard. Now I even started to think that my situation wasn't as bad as it seemed to me before. I did a really strange thing, decided to use the situation to know if this legend is true or not instead of trying to solve my problems. I think lost my temper, I was stressed, nothing more. Why was I so upset earlier? Maybe I should just...
I couldn't finish thinking what exactly I "should just". As soon as I came to the window, someone's tenacious and cold hand grabbed my neck and lifted me with ease, like I weighed nothing for whoever or whatever was behind me.. But I wasn't scared neither by this, nor by the fact that a complete stranger appeared in my flat somehow. My visitor was going to throw me out of the window.
I wanted to shout "Stop!" but I couldn't say a word. A second - and I'm falling down on the stiff ground from the second floor. An unspeakable horror filled my mind, but somehow my brain kept thinking what would happen when I fall. If I was fortunate, I'd just break my ribs. If not... Better to not even think about it.
CHAPTER 2
A piercing whiz, the ground which became blurry stains for me - and the sound of something heavy and soft hitting the ground reached my ears. I realized that it was my body which hit the ground. However, I didn't feel the pain at all. I started to think that something has gone wrong. So I opened my eyes - and And fear mixed with shock filled my mind.
Instead of a street on the ground I saw my own room, the one in which I was lying and thinking about my all the bad things which happened to me. But it was not like how I saw it a minute ago. Bleak sunlight shone through the curtained window and everything around me was quiet. Too quiet. But this silence wasn't gloomy at all. Now it felt like the whole world was preparing for something, maybe not gorgeous but quite good. I was lying on my side under my blanket. Nothing special at all - a usual condition for a summer morning.
But when I just thought about it I felt suspicious. Morning after noon? This is really weird. And I couldn't explain how this could happen. Maybe all these things that happened before were just a nightmare, nothing more?
I thought: "It was too beleivable for a dream". I wanted to look at the clock and tried to reach the clock but I couldn't. "I" stretched myself, threw the blanket aside and got out of bed. After that "I" stood up and started to make my bed. Every "my" movement was familliar to me, I couldn't say that was something wrong with it. Despite one thing - "I" did it against my own will. I tried to say something, to step aside, to move my hand, but I couldn't. My body didn't obey me at all. All I seemed to be able to do was watch and do nothing.
Vague awareness of what was happening around me started to come to my mind. I was in such a despair and so wanted to hide from my problems so I used my situation to call for the Holder of Dead Days about whom I head from that my strange friend. I don't know what made me do so. Was I thinking that I've got nothing to lose? Or was I just curious? Anyway, the die had been cast and there were no way back.
And now, as far as I remembered, I should watch this day and see its real face.
It's so heinous to realize that in less than a day, your life started to get ruined. But far more heinous to realize that your body isn't yours at all now. Your movements, actions, behaviour are yours. But still it's not you who does them. And I felt so loathful when I fully realized that all I can do is to look around.
An awareness, though vauge, started to come to my mind. I was in such a state of despair, wanting nothing more then to hide from these problems, using my situation to call for the Holder of Dead Days whom I head about from my strangest friend. Looking back, I don't know what made me do so, was I thinking about I've got nothing to lose? was I just curious? It no longer mattered, the die has been cast and there were no way back.
As far as I could tell, it was time to watch the day and see it's true face...
It's so horrible to realize that in less than a day your life had started to fall from your control, yet it was far worse to realize that your own body had too. Your movements, actions, behaviour are yours... yet it's not you who does them. And I felt so helpless, realizing finally that all I can do is to look around.
With such joyless thoughts "I" got dressed, went to the kitchen, turned on the old television showing some morning news and started to make my breakfast. While "my" hands were taking goods from the fridge, I noticed that street started to wake up, too. The sun was shining more brighter that before and I heard soft sounds from cars and people's voices from the street. People were waking up and getting started with their business and the city was preparing for a new day with them.
But even this peaceful atmosphere couldn't help me relax. While "I" was putting sugar in my coffee, I looked about hopelessly, thinking that I can see almost nothing. And I never was attentive. I didn't want to even think what would happen to me if I do something wrong and won't be able to reach the Holder.
Nevertheless, later I realized that making such a mistake for now will be very hard.
And now's the weather, - told the announcer. - Today..."-
The announcer's voice suddenly became rude, sharp and unpleasant and then was apruptly interruped. At first I was surprized and disappointed - now I have to repair my TV, but then I heard a cacophony of sharp, repulsive sounds. I still can't say what exactly that was - some words from inexistent languages, pleas of help, curses, or everything at once. But at that moment, even though I was something intangible, doomed to be the slave of my own past, I felt cold. Cautiously and slowly, I looked at the TV screen, starting to understand what exactly I will see there.
Morning news were turned into a thing I'd really like to not have seen at all. From my childhood, from the moment I started to remember myself, I was really afraid of insects. When I got older, I managed to control my silly fear, but I can still shudder when I see a really big bug. And at that moment TV screen was cruelly showing me a glossy, covered with the most disgusting slime and blood insects looking like a hybrid of a roach, multiped and spider covering the body of a man. Poor thing, he seemed to be dead for long - I saw his face, full of agony, I saw insects tearing his rotting flesh apart with ease. And at some time I started to smell the rot in my kitchen.
"I" was still drinking coffe peacefully. For "me" there was nothing special in this day - all my troubles were just waiting for "me". And I couldn't look away from the TV. My soul was filled with fear, and my mind - with memories. Memories about some things I'd really like to forget. Some offences from my childhood, arguements with friends and parents - even these smallest things became for me a heavy burden on my shoulders. I remembered how I was talking when I'd better kept my mouth closed, how I lied to those who were important for me, how how I missed opportunities to make my life better, just because I haven't thought I'd be able to do so. And the most horrible thing was the fact that I fully realized the consequences of my actions as the fact that now I can't change anything.
Then I knew for sure that your own mistakes and memories can be much heavier than the heaviest bulk. I looked at the screen for a few seconds, but it was enough for me to consider myself hopeless and start thinking that life itself wants me to disappear forever. Everything went black, and I could hear voices in a cacophony of sounds. I never heard their language before, but then I could understand better than my own. Though I wished I did not. Unknown voices, unimaginably horrifying, inhuman, were cursing me and telling me about the evil I have done to this world and myself. I don't know what could happen to me or to my sanity next, but in that very moment "I" stood up and went to wash my cup. When "I" just turned my head away from the TV, the sounds and blackness before my eyes were gone. My mind was clear again. If I could control my body, I would start breathing heavily for sure, as if I'd been running very fast for a long time.
When "I" was washing my cup, I remembered some details about the story I unwillingly got into and felt the cold of fear once again. How could I feel something else when I realized that I almost failed my trial? I remembered that I'm not supposed to look at most of the things and creatures in this realm. If I keep looking at them for more than a couple of seconds, my sanity will be ruined immidiately. Afterwards I'd have to live with split personality and awareness of the fact that one of these persons is completely insane. How mirthless.
My survival instincts were strong, but I still couldn't resist my desire to look at the screen once again, just when "I" was going to turn the TV off. However, there were no horrors anymore. Morning news has been continued by an economy programme. So, while "I" was putting on my jacket, I tried to calm down and start waiting when "I" go down to my car.
However, as I noticed after that, from the things I saw before, my adventures had just begun, and I'd better be prepared. When I went outside, I noticed that not everything looked like it should. Asphalt under my feet was cracked and through the holes I saw small, slippy, taut, black stalks. Everything was so quiet that the whole city seemed uninhabited. The cars near my house were covered with dust, the painting was peeling off, the windows were broken, and the wheels were deflated. It looked like they were abandoned long ago, for two years at least. Green grass became unnaturally dark brown and sun beams were rusty and made the world darker instead of lighting it up. But my car was, maybe, the worst part in all that sight. It wasn't pained at all and didn't have a roof anymore. Doors were rusted and the windown were broken into the tiniest shards. The front of the car looked far more worse. Engine hood was missing, too, the engine was badly damaged and under my car I saw a huge pool of gasoline. My car looked as like it has been in a terrible road accident. But the worst thing about it I discovered only when "I", still unsuspicious, got behind the wheel which was covered with something looking just like pus. When I looked to the right, at the passenger's seat, I felt like I've got a lead in my throat and my eyes were blackened. A woman's head, gray and almost bald, was lying on this torn blood-stained seat. Her eyes were alive, as like they were a contrast to this entire realm, and looked at me with love and caring.
My mother's head.
There are memories which I'd really like to burn away, just erase them from existance or pain them from my mind. My memories about my mother are just these sort of memories.. We never got along, somehow always having doubts, her appearance, voice, behavior, caring. Actually it was this last thing that annoyed me most, not caring, she was overprotective in every sense of the word. Though it's true she cared about me very much, when she was alive, I couldn't come home, leave my block or even make new friends without her trying to know everything about my life. She tried to know everything, everyone, and if she disliked what she learned she would do everything she could to prevent me from even trying to talk to them ever again. Surprisingly, none of my friends bullied me because of this, maybe they understood my pain. When my mother has interfered my conversation, no one laughed at me or said something offencive. They all tried to behave as if nothing has been happening, silent but unhelpful. I still hated my mother for this, so caring yet so hurtful, I always knew who I was in my friends' eyes because of that. I was sure she was doing that on purpose. These days, with my childhood is in the past, I can see that she wanted to do me good...she just didn't always know how. She really was afraid that something bad may happen to me and only tried her best to protect her only son.
She died an early and absurd death. On her way home she suddenly fainted and fell under the subway train. And, when I heard about her death, I wasn't disappointed at all. My supervisor has died, I could do everything I wanted. I suppose, my father, who still spends most of his time at the job, even in this year couldn't remember what's my name, how old am I and how do I look like. And of course he didn't care at all about my friends, my walks, school problems which were really important to my mother. I finally could feel myself an adult.
And then I even could see a teenager boy standing near the closed coffin with his mother's body. He isn't crying, but he is shaking. But he doesn't feel bad at all. He can't wait when the funeral will be over and he can finally do everything he wanted for so long.
This only memory was enough for me to start despicing myself. And I never thought that I'd ever feel so much loathing for my own body.
However, I remembered that I almost failed my trial before, so I tried my best to forget about my creepy "parrenger". And the word around me became even more horrendous. The farther I drove the worse became the world. The sky was under heavy and dark clouds. I've never seen anything like that before. I noticed other cars driving next to me, and every one of them was as destroyed as mine. The houses were dilapidating on my eyes - I even saw their pieces falling down, they were cracked and looked at this world with their black broken windows. People, who appeared in the city as like from nowhere, looked far more worse. Someone went, trying to hold their bleeding innards, others didn't have the skin on their faces and some else were crawning on the asphalt on their elbows - their legs looked like someone's sharp and big teeth gnawled them. I heard muffled sobs and shrieks of pain and despair from everywhere and they merged in one heartbreaking plea of help. The air itself smelled with blood and agony. Some of these poor people fell down and died on the streets, unable to struggle their wounds and torments anymore. And "I" kept driving, as if nothing was happening. "I" didn't even know that there is one more mind inside me, and this mind can see far more cruel reality. Or did I see this world's true nature?
But one of the worst discoveries of this day was waiting for me at the place when I saw that very horrible accident which happened this morning and from which all my misfortune has begun. When I drove near the crossroads, I firstly noticed that three creatures were staying right behind the car which was smashed by lorry. I don't think that there is a language in our world which can fully describe their bulging, whitish, absolutely insane eyes, blinking with champing, almost black, dimly gleaming skin, their hands with bifid wrists, and wicked, very wicked raptorial snouts. They just lifted the poor man's car not fo far from the ground and threw forward with a tremendous strength. When the clang of metal and screams, full of unbearable pain reached my ears, I really wanted to shrink. And they three just looked at each other. One of them licked its sharp fangs and jumped in a withered bush near the road. Others followed it. Probably, to find one more victim to have fun with.
On the rest of my way to office I felt confused. I still couldn't understand the meaning of my trial as well as what I must actually do. Was it a possibility to see the real day's guise? Did it look like that just for me? Or was it all nothing more but something which hides deeply in our subconscious, something, which is usually quiet, but is always waiting for a moment to consume everything?
When I arrived to my former office, I've noticed that the world became worse again. The ground wasn't just covered with blood, but was bleeding from every crack. Everything around me was crimson. The sky was gloomy and dark, but somehow I could see everything as well as in a daylight. The buildings became far more destructed than before. From some of them remained nothing but walls, metal girders, former carcasses, were everywhere and sharp ang shiny dust which were windows was scatteres across the ground. The people all around were in a really pitiable condition. They were not just mutilated, but have already started to decay. Their body parts were tumid, blackened and covered with a loathsome slime. Maggots and bugs were crawling on them and eating their flesh. Some people still tried to get rid of abhorrent creatures, but others were so exhausted that decided to submit to their fate and lay down on the ground. They did not have enough strength anymore even to stay. From every corner I heard screams of fear, pain and death. The air smelled with decay, drying blood and endless despair. All my city which I've known from my childhood, became a true incarnation of nightmare and devastation in less than a day.
However, that was something more which I have noticed only then, when "I" was standing near my office. The world started to shrink, lessen, but still save its scale somehow. I saw that the sky came closer to buildings and the buildings themselves stood narrower to each other. It felt like the world wants to come in one rather small space. As I realized later my suspicions were correct. However, in that moment I was more nervous from a bit different thing. The first thing I saw in my office was the guard, young man who was a bit older than me. He looked more horrible than any other man I saw before in this realm. Maggots have eaten his skin off his head, so I could see his yellowish scull and thin membrane of muscles. One of his eyes were cut and was slowly flowing out his eye-socket. On the other was a big albugo. His teeth were covered with something which totally looked like pus, and this pus also stained his once white shirt. The shirt was tarnished soot and something slimy. One of his shoulders was big, blackened and fibered. His fingers were tumid and his nails were broken to the blood. In that very moment I stepped back, hold my breath and cluthed my fists. My body finally started obeying me, not my past self.
So that's a Holder?" - thought I, feeling nothing but scare and cold. The fact that I've been working so long with a gruesome and evil being was really unnerving. And unfortunately, I couldn't remember at all what should I say to him. However, to my own relief I realized that I was wrong.
"God damn you... - told the scull in rasping voice hardly moving his jaw. - It's all your fault, bastard... your..."
He spoke every word with such hardness, so I realized that maggots have already started to eat his vocal cords. But something told me that I'd better not to listen to him. I also remembered that he wasn't the Holder at all. I only had to meet the true Holder of Dead Days. And this man - or remains of man - was the one who would help me to make the final step.
I gathered my courage, looked at his only eye and said: "Do not protect the guilty one."
When he heard my words, he screamed so wildly and with unexplainable hate and agony in his voice. Damn, I never heard something like that before! This sounded like thousands of blades scratching the glass, someone's unspeakably familiar cries, something else both scary and disgusting beyond expression. I was afraid that if I didn't, my will to live would be crushed and all the horrible things which happened to the guard and the people outside will happen to me as well.
Despite the fact I closed my ears, this scream still tortured my earn and mind. I closed my eyes so tightly, that I felt tears running down my face. I try to hold my screams of pain and clenched my teeth, trying not to think of anything. And finally I succeeded in that part of my trial. Heartbreaking sound started to become more and more quiet as like its sourse started to move away. But, just when everything became silent again, I heard guard corpse's voice in my head:
"May your life be as horrible as our death."
CHAPTER 3
Even though my eyes were closed, I could see piercing white light, which suddenly appeared from nowhere. My eyes hust so much as like a dull blade was cutting them from inside. I thought they've already began bleeding amd melting, that I lose my sight, and my retina would be burnt out. I was afraid even to inagine what would have happenened if I hadn't closed my eyes. However, this time nothing was going to torture me for a long time. Piercing light disappeared as suddenly as it appeared and something unseen hit my back. I stepped forward and slowly opened my eyes; I was still afraid of hurting myself spontaneously.
I was standing in front of what once has been my home. I'd be telling a terrible lie if I said that it was ruined. From a place in which I've spent all my life was left almost nothing. All the yard has been burnt and I saw brownish, rotting human bones on the ground. Still bleeding asphalt was almost destroyed, it looked like it was turned inside out. Through its wound-like holes I saw something looking like rotten, but still living huge innards. And on the place where once was my home I saw nothing but stone medley and blackened and cracked walls, somehow still able to stay. From the building's foundation nothing but pieces of reinforcement, torn apart, was left. And maybe that's why the only stairs flight which was left untouched, as well as the only untouched flat, almost hanging in the air, looked so weird. It was almost unbeleivable - the only what was holding this flat were reinforcement and small piece of interfloor bridging.
And I knew for sure whose flat it was. As well as I knew what I was supposed to do.
In the spirit I asked forgiveness from everyone I knew and went forward trying not to step on the cracks. The blood under my feet made wet sounds, and when I finally managed to get to the stairs I felt that the air became hotter and the sky lowered down again. I felt like I knew what was going on - there was neither a way behind for me nor the way to die here. It felt like the only I could do without stucking here forever is going forward. And now I knew that I'll try all I can to do it.
I frowned a bit, when I imagined all these pictures, but kept going and stood on the first step. When my foot touched it, I heard sound of crasing and explosions - as like a skyscrape fell down. I really wanted to look behind and see what just happened but somehow I felt that for my own good I'd better try not to do it. I thought for a moment and decided that my intuition probably didn't let me down that time. So I went on ascending, and, as I realized, my decidion not to look behind was probably one of the cleverest ones. When I did each step I heard this spine-chilling sound of crash again. Far more, I heard screams, full of unspeakable despair. As far I went, as better I felt the smell of rotting flesh.
The door to my flat was broken, and only the hinge holding it in place. Slime and blood was slowly dripping down it. During this journey my feelings of disgust almost became natrual, at this point I couldn't care less about it. I climbed through the door, trying not to touch the slime and finally entered my flat.
Surprizingly, all my possessions were left untouched. Everything looked like it used to do in my ordinary life. The only souce of light was that broken door I entered in. However, when my eyes finally could see in the low light, I saw something far more disgusting and horrifying. There was a long trail of blood on the floor. It looked like many people were slaughtered in this very place and dragged across the floor. This trail was leading to my room.
By the time I came here I could guess what would I see when I come to my room. Curiously enough, I wasn't scared or felt any disgust anymore. Maybe there are pain barrier even for moral pain. After what I've seen before nothing could scare me anymore.
However, I was sure in that only till the moment I came into what used to be my room.
Instead of a window I saw nothing but a wall. However, I could see everything in the dim light which coloured everything in the shades of crimson. The smell of rot and blood made my nose ache and my eyes - tear. In the middle of the room I saw a pile of corpses. They were corpses of those whom I used to know in my life. In this horryfying bodies tangles I could see my father with slashed abdomen, my bisected girlfriend, my frineds, butchered like a pork in the shop, my skinless colleagues. The skin was lying near that pile like a carpet. Among the dead bodies I could see even my decapitated mother. However there was someone far more impressive. The being which sat on these corpses like on the throne both impressed me most of all and perfectly completed the sight of all consuming and heartless insanity.
It was a scrawny and strangely elongated creature whose skin had taupe colour and in some places was stained with something looking a lot like postmortem lividity. His short black hair were uncombed and among them I saw long and fat worms. The worms grew from his head like a part of a hair. They swarmed, tangled and twined each other. When I saw them, I suddenly imagined myself with such a "hairstyle" and so I really wanted to scratch my head. When I finally got rid of this feeling I continued contemplating the creature. His eyebrows were woman-like - thin and neat. But his eyes looked as like someone scratched them out and also scratched his eyepits to blood. However in the depths of his eyepits I saw white sparkles of light looking towards me. Maybe because of them the beast looked completely insane. Instead of a nose he had three dark and long vertical holes in his scull on its place; one is above others. It looked like his nose has been cut. He didn't have lips either - instead of them I saw skin folds, and that's why I firstly was sure that the creature's bloodied mouth was stitched. He had two rows of big and sharp white fangs and they made him look like he was permanently and deliriously grinning. All his shoulders some days ago were cut to bones and now were covered with long, disgusting and knobby scars. Under his ribs I saw one more cut, fresh, small and bleeding. All the time he clenched his fists and stabbed claws into the rotting flesh. It felt like he was really nervous, however, then I wasn't sure in anything. Att the creature's clothes were old and dirty dark-blue breechers. I supposed that he has taken them from a mortal. And against the view of that really unpleasant appearance the golden medallion on his neck looked really beautiful. It was large and its front side was segmented in three parts. Each one had different colour. I couldn't say that this thing was attractive or skillful. In fact is was too heavy, too big, too plateresque. However in that evil realm, full of pain, it was nothing but an embodiment of pure beauty.
The creature was still clenching his fists and looking at me with his insane eyes. It looked like he was waiting for something. I tried my best to remember the story and when I did, I put a look of despise on my face and asked the creature: "Why do you do something which won't lead to anything?"
To tell you the truth, I had no idea what this meant exactly. "Please, don't hurt me" was my only thought. I hoped my memory didn't let me down and I didn't rearrange the words. However, I probably had nothing to afraid. The Holder stopped scratching corpses and raised his head. In that very moment in his insane eyes I saw something very simular to unutterable inhuman hopelessness. Maybe even the one whose dreams had been cruelly crushed, who had lost everything and had to bury valuable and dear for them for several times couldn't have even the smallest part of the feeling I saw in the Holder's eyes. However, this was enough for me to feel how something in my heart in falling into nothingless from which is no way back.
The creature sat comfortably and began to speak in his susurrous like an autumn leaves, voice: "How often do you, mortals, call many things as "worthless" when the only what you desire is to erase them from the memory of your future generations. Worthless. No one needs it. Useless. It's easier to leave it behind, isn't it? It can't bring you anything. And in fact many of these "worthless" things are very curious..."
"Yeah-yeah, say what you want and let me go!" thought I when I heard these almost meaningless phrases. I found myself a complete stranger in that dark and agressive realm. I tried my best to ignore the Holder, but something forced me to listen to him, to let his words flow through my very being. I know I could do nothing, but when I remember this day, I can't stop cursing myself for that. The knowledge I heard almost killed me.
He spoke on my native language and his manner of talking was calm and absorbing. He told me about seemingly simple and trite things as emptiness, futility and human's souls. He told me what forces can tear a soul apart, what the consequences will be and what was these people's victim's destiny. I learned that "dead days" the days when your life is destroying itself and you feel so bad that you can see the black net near your eyes, is one of the things which cad do such a thing to a soul. That this black net before my eyes is actually a way to this realm and it will open for everyone who will call for the Holder. "Dead days" and Objects are strongly connected, and the pieces of the long past still hurt the innocents. I heard about a creature powerful enough to destroy galaxies and create Gods. My eerie collocutor refered to this creature just "He". And in the end of his story the Holder told what He exactly awaits and fears.
Dispassionately, the Holder finished his story: "When the time comes, things you have seen will be a tear in the endless ocean of sorrow. The debris of the past became one and in that very day the Objects finally reach an opportunity of being reunited. And I don't think that defence is all you need."
The Holder told his story in one go. He didn't stop to catch a breath as he didn't look away either. My imagination was never good, but somehow I realized that I could see all the grotesque pictures he described as well as they all passed before my very eyes. When he has been talking to me, I wanted to kneel before him, beg him to stop, to tell me no more, but my will to survive was stronger than my mind's attempts to protect itself. When he has fallen silent and looked at me with his insane eyes, I realized that I know my soul's and mind's weight and shape. I felt as like a jar filled to the brim and I knew that my contents could spill in every moment.
When I could finally catch my breath I realized that I probably must do something more. My mind was in coufusion, I felt dizzy, but I tried my best to think logically. So then I'm in my own distorted room. The Holder's sitting on the corpses in front of me and he looks at me very attentively. He was probably wanted me to do something. Beyond my flat is nothing but almost crushed realm full of hate, pain and anger. So what should I do? What would be logical? Run away? Take a corpse from the pile? Say something? Or else... I looked at the corpses again and finally got it. I saw my strange friend with whom I used to talk about the Holders long ago and the answer suddenly came to my mind:
"The realm is falling apart and if you are not quick, it will find something new to corrupt - your soul. Pray that you'll die soon after that; at least, the physical pain will leave you. However, you can still escape. Only you and the Holder has enough strength to break it or to restore it. However, the realm will only fall or be restorted when one of you is defeated."
I suppose that the Holder have noticed my grim smile of satisfaction. He stabbed his claws so deeply into flesh, so a small stream of blood flew from under them. However he didn't evey try to more. He knew for sure what I was going to do to him but somehow he couldn't neither protect himself nor run away. Or he didn't want to.
I never felt so furious before. I didn't have any good feelings towards that disgusting creature which almost ruined my sanity. I came closer to him and grabbed his hair. The worms twined around my arm, but I could care less. I grabbed his hair as tight as I could and hit Holder's face against my knee.
At first I was sure that he would scream as horribly as the guard before, beg me for mercy or try to flee. I was wrong. He didn't even moan and when I turned his face towards me to see what I've done to him I saw that he didn't even try to lick a place where a second ago was one of his fangs. The fact that he didn't try to resist enraged me even more. I wouldn't probably be so angry if he tried to fight back. But in that moment I didn't care about my feelings which were different from fury. I hit Holder's ribs with my knee and pulled his hair up. I heard an unpleasant sound of something's cracking and then I felt something wet and slimy flowing down my hand. As I could see, the worms on his head consisted of only blood.
For the first time in my life I regretted that I never was strong or heavy. The fact that my "opponent" was lying at the floor didn't bother me at all. I wished I could hurt him more. I never felt myself so powerful. At this moment I felt like a foul creatures' overlord. I gave a grim smile to the Holder and then stepped on his left wrist. I pressed it against the floor as hard as I could.
This time the Holder tried to pull his hand away from my boot, but I wasn't going to let him do that. Once again I pressed his wrist against the floor and hit his face to my leg. The crunch of bones and muffled moan were my reward. Finally I managed to hurt him. When I looked down I saw that Holder was trying to fix his jaw with his undamaged hand. I wasn't able to understand did I broke it or just luxated. However I didn't care about it. I was really angry with the fact that he was trying to ease his plight. My domination above him was so amazing, I wanted to torture him again. I released his wrist, crushed and bleeding, putting my foot on the Holder's neck. With his undamaged hand he tried to move my leg away but I was faster and stronger that the creature which was almost unable to perceive reality. I grabbed this hand with my hands and hit it against my knee. Once again I heard that crack and somehow the hand became lighter, losing its shape. I threw it roughly, looking in the Holder's eyes, wiping my hands off my pants, as though it were dirty. With all my weight, I pressed the Holder's neck against the floor. I heard crunch, I felt that creature was trying to stand up. And finally I heard his weak and rasping voise: "Don't... do it. Take the..."
At first I wanted to shout: "Take what?!" but somehow my sanity came back to me. I stood as still as I was frozen, and the last words of the story were echoing through my mind:
"Be warned: the task is harder than you may think. Sometimes fighting against your own bloodlust can be harder that fighting against the strongest enemy in the world. Sometimes a Seeker will not satisfy their bloodlust without tearing everyone apart. Even themselves."
Then, when I fully realized what did it meat, I felt hot and cold in one time. I have never been in such a confusion before. It seemed that I almost have overdone the final part of my trial. What happened to me? I never was agressive, hot-tempered, or, moreover, cruel. And now I hurt a being. Maybe he was unpleasant, scary, but he wasn't evil at all! I hurt him consciously and, what's more, I have enjoyed my superiority. Is it what do Objects do to humans? Or... was it just a beginning?
I really wanted to apologize to Holder for my cruelty, but the words stuck in my throat. After all I've done to him, he didn't even try to stand up or move. Suddenly my eyes started to hurt and my mouth was dry. Now I fully realized that I'm the most disgusting creature in this world. So I leaned to the Holder - I think I'll never forget the horror in his eyes - and ripped the medallion off his neck.
When I did it, everything around me started to change. The pile of corpses has disappeared, as well as the Holder. Daylight filled my room again, because the window was back on its place. Once again I could hear sounds of the street. But there was one more sound - the rain. Sunny day was replaced by downpour which as like was trying to clean away the disgust I saw before on the ither side of our realm. And then, when I, still clutching Dead Days' medallion came closer to the window, I realized that I know what to do next. Even though this trial didn't let me to get rid of my problems, but gave me a bunch of new.
A few mounths passed since my adventure. I had my life to be put back to normal and many things to think over. And I can't say that I didn't manage to succeed. I found a new job, my girlfriend forgive me, I paid all my debts off. It was hard, but I did my best to teach myself to look in the eyes of those whose corpses were the throne to the Holder of Dead Days without feeling a horrible pain in my soul. I didn't tell anyone of my adventure. Even my Seeker friend whose stories helped me to survive and get an Object knows nothing. Honestly, the fact I got an Object doesn't make me happy at all. I don't want to remember what happened to me and what have I done, so I put it away in order never see it again. But now I know that it didn't help. The Medallion, or something which only looks like it, is still haunting me, saying me to keep Seeking, to get other Objects. I try my best to resist, but its influence if very strong. I don't think I'll last long. Seems like I've already became a Seeker, a cursed and doomed soul, and that's why I can't stop regretting about my sillyness and recklessness. I obeyed my emotions and took on the Seeker's burden on my free will. And this heavy burden is not for everyone. Not at all.
The Medallion is Object 154 of 538. You can't change your past, but sometimes it can be different from you remember.
Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
ибо выпиливаю с планшета всё ненужное. Итак, одна из самых популярных историй, так или иначе связанная вот с этим вот. Интересующимся да неоднократно упоминала, обещала перевести, но руки дошли только в Римини. Я скажу прямо и откровенно... мне не нравится ни капельки, я не понимаю, почему этот рассказик считается одним из лучших, и перевела я его отчасти потому, что мне интересно мнение народа, одна ли я с таким мнением или всё-таки нет.
Ну инджой, хуле. Или не инджой.Однажды ты можешь встретить одного человека. У него будут серые волосы, серая кожа и серый костюм. Он будет улыбаться чуть шире, чем обычные люди, так, чтобы ты лишь начал подозревать, что что-то не так. А затем ты увидишь его глаза - холодные, мёртвые, пустые глаза - и поймёшь, что ты проклят. Его называли по-разному. Мистер Мёртвые Глаза, Пустой, Ноголом, Ухмылка Дьявола. Он отзовётся даже на "ублюдка", но Джек Эмпти - его любимое имя. О нём ходит множество историй - ты услышишь их, если пробудешь Искателем достаточно долго. Говорят, что он старше Легиона, и живёт лишь благодаря мрачным делам и богохульным договорам. Говорят, что большинство из Них побывало в его руках как минимум раз. Говорят, что он уже не Искатель, ещё не Хранитель - нечто посередине. Говорят, что он побывал в центре Ада и смог вернуться. Многие удивляются, как кто-то мог повидать так много и остаться человеком. Говорят, что он уже не человек. Его ужасная жизнь разрушила его человечность, его душу, создав на её месте чёрную дыру. Говорят, что если ты сорвёшь с него кожу, то увидишь, что под ней нет абсолютно ничего. Потому что он пуст как пропасть*. Улавливаешь? Никто не знает, почему он всё ещё ищет. Циники говорят, что для него это игра. Сочувствующие - потому что он может чувствовать хоть что-то лишь тогда, когда получает Объект, подобно наркоману, нуждающемуся в дозе. Всё что знаю я - если ты его встретишь... беги.
Джек бежал. Он бежал уже две недели, с седьмого числа. Он невероятно жалел, что не сохранил Объект Самоконтроля - сейчас он почти выбился из сил. Но Джек всё равно смеялся - он очень хотел разозлить Их до того, как Они его схватят. Джек пытался пройти испытание Хранителя Конца - решил, что если он вовремя выберется из его комнаты, то получит его Объект. Джек ошибся, и теперь он был в Америке. При нём не было ничего кроме Глаз, всех их, и Записки Лжеца. Безусловно, Записка сработала бы на человеке, но так ли хороша она была бы против Него? Так что Джек бежал, ожидая своей смерти, но, похоже, тем адским тварям, что пожелали его рождения, пока что его смерть не была нужна. Так что Джек нашёл Убежище.
Убежища - потрясающая идея. Быть может, единственная напрасная надежда для тех, за чьим другом Они уже вышли на охоту. Предполагается, что Убежище сдержит Их Силы на двадцать часов или сорок восемь - в том случае, если тебе это позволят. Достаточно времени для того, чтобы вспомнить, каковой была твоя жизнь без Них. Если ты, скажем так, злоупотребишь гостеприимством и задержишься в доме дольше, чем нужно, то Они заберут взамен жизни всех, кто находится в радиусе двадцати или сорока восьми миль. Главная проблема в том, что не злоупотребить гостеприимством будет сложно. Убежищами чаще всего становятся весьма определённые места - детские площадки, маленькие городки, дома стариков. Места, которые ассоциируются у нас со счастьем или напоминают нам о временах, когда мы были счастливы. Для каждого человека они будут разными. Знаете, что бы по-моему сделал такой ублюдок, как Джек Эмпти? Я думаю, он бы разозлил Хранителя прямо перед тем, как его время выйдет - просто для того, чтобы увидеть людей в огне.
Джек проснулся в тёплой постели. Это место было счастливым - стены буквально светились радостью. Джека это беспокоило, хотя почему именно - он не знал, ибо против радости он ничего не имел. Посмеявшись над собственным дискомфортом, Джек по-быстрому осмотрелся. Его сумка лежала в углу, и, владелец дома, не пожелавший будить его ночью, не знал пока что, что именно в ней. Встав с кровати, Джек посмотрел в зеркало. Он был в грязи и небрит, его костюм был порван, но в общем и целом он был в порядке. Даже будучи пустым, Джек не утратил манер. Он постарался сузить свою улыбку и сделать так, чтобы глаза его смотрели хоть немного потеплее. Он хотел выглядеть лишь напуганным, но не безумным. А затем он спустился по лестнице. - Спасибо, - сказал Джек, стараясь выглядеть и звучать как можно более человечно. - Подозреваю, это вы и помогли мне. Меня зовут Джек. В ответ женщина протянула ему свою левую руку, а ребёнок, занятый своей раскраской, на вид не представлял никакой угрозы. Дом был совершенно спокойным и уютным - прямо как в кино пятидесятых годов. По-быстрому Джек осмотрел комнату. На всякий случай он отметил все возможные способы убийства их, равно как и то, чем они могут попытаться убить его, и как это можно предотвратить. - Рада знакомству, Джек. Я Сандра, и я хотела бы знать, по какому поводу я должна пускать вас в свой дом. В тот же миг Джек достал Записку и протянул её ей. Она, посмотрев на неё несколько дольше, чем понадобилось бы для того, чтобы прочесть написанное на таком коротком листке бумаги, наконец, вернула Джеку Записку. - Так сколько вы планируете пробыть здесь, Джек? - спросила она. Её голос был холодным, почти механическим. Записка всё ещё была в её подсознании, медленно пуская в нём корни. - Два дня, - улыбнулся Джек. - Этого будет достаточно.
Моя любимая история о Джеке? Что же, она такова: Джек скитался по этому грязному, бедному городку. Никто не знал, почему он был там - он просто слонялся вокруг да около. И однажды жители городка собрались, чтобы выпихнуть оттуда Джека, потому что он был уже там несколько недель. Так что они встретили Джека и сказали ему: "Ты здесь уже больше месяца и ничего не платишь и не делаешь. Мы хотим, чтобы ты отсюда убрался." Джек улыбнулся и сказал, что он не просил у них еды, никому не причинил вреда и попросил их оставить его в покое. Жители городка разозлились и стали угрожать ему. Говорили, что причинят ему вред, если он не уберётся. В тот же миг глаза Джека сузились, и он рассказал им, как Они были созданы. Что произошло дальше, догадаться нетрудно - большинство жителей умерло или сошло с ума. Кроме одного. Это был маленький ребёнок, который не мог понять, о чём говорил Джек. Его родители оказались слишком эгоистичны, чтобы спасти его от грядущей жизни, полной страдания. Джек взял его, вырастил как питомца или ученика, а затем, спустя несколько лет, просто вышвырнул его на одной аллее. Эта история всегда мне нравилась.
Джеку в Убежище нравилось. Он не знал, что именно сказала о нём записка, но был уверен, что это было что-то хорошее. Ребёнок несколько надоедал ему, и это было так... знакомо. Джеку подобное дитя встречалось лишь однажды - из него вышел хороший питомец. Напугало его до чёртиков, однажды назвав его "папой". В этом определённо было что-то не так. Но женщина ушла, оставив его наедине с ребёнком. Записка убедила её ему поверить. Джек определённо не стал бы причинять её ребёнку вреда, но если бы дело начало принимать дурной оборот, кто мог бы быть более важен, чем Мистер Мёртвые Глаза? - Ну, мелкий, что ты рисуешь? - спросил Джек, стараясь быть милым. Он слишком устал и не хотел никого сегодня убивать. - Меня зовут Джон, а не Мелкий. И я рисую мою семью. Джек взглянул на его рисунок. Он был просто отвратителен, но Джек всё же смог сосчитать фигуры на нём. - Это твой папа? Где он сейчас? - спросил Джек, растягивая гласные в слове "папа". - Папа ушёл прошлым летом. Он и мама дрались постоянно. Не хочешь сыграть в прятки? В умении прятаться Джеку не было равных. Он мог проскользнуть в трещину в стене, слиться с тенью, отдыхать между стрелками часов. Однако ребёнку понадобилось пять минут, чтобы его найти.
Видел ли я Джека хоть раз? Я думаю, что да. Я шёл к Хранителю Мира, когда я его увидел. Он просил о встрече с Хранителем Стоимости, и я, увидев его, почти закричал. То, как он двигался... это не имело ничего общего с людьми! Он мог стоять совершенно недвижимо, но, когда он двигался, он делал это так быстро, что на том месте, где он был раньше, можно было даже увидеть его последовательный образ. Чарли, мой друг, говорил, что добыл Объект Хранителя Славы. И я поверил ему - до этого он не находил ни одного Объекта, а твой первый уже меняет тебя. Чарли об этом никому не проболтался, я не сказал об этом ни душе, но через две недели после этого Джек появился у его дверей. Всё, что он сказал мне, прежде чем я убил его. Бедолага. А Джек - конченый ублюдок. Джек мог бы просто убить его, но вместо этого он сделал... это.
Найдя Джона, Джек улыбнулся своей слишком широкой улыбкой. Джон не заметил этого. Дети никогда ничего не замечают. - Ух ты! - сказал Джек. - Да у тебя хорошо это получается! - Спасибо. Я с друзьями всегда играю в прятки после обеда. И ты знаешь больше мест, где можно спрятаться, чем они. - Возможно, - ухмыльнулся Джек. - Но мне они не всегда помогают. - Что ты имеешь в виду? - спросил Джон в замешательстве. - Зачем взрослому прятаться? - Ну, за мной гонится нехороший человек, и от него я спрятаться не могу. Хотя если бы ты... хотя нет, - продолжал улыбаться Джек, уже строя планы. - Что тебе нужно? Я могу помочь? - спросил Джон, горя от желания быть Джеку полезным. Джек казался ему довольно приятным взрослым, а Джон никогда не мог помочь своей матери, когда она тихо плакала, засыпая. - В общем, мне нужно кое-что, что есть у тебя. Эта вещь называется Ба. Если ты дашь её мне, то я обещаю, что когда-нибудь я поговорю с этим злым стариком, о котором я говорил, и мы поиграем снова. - А что такое Ба? Я никогда её не видел. - А ты и не мог, - продолжал ухмыляться Джек. - Она невидимая. - А, вот как! Ну тогда ты можешь её забрать. Улыбка Джека стала чуть уже. - Понимаешь, это не из тех вещей, которые можно так просто отдать. Для этого нужен... слушай, у меня есть одно специальное место для того, чтобы прятаться. Если ты меня там не найдёшь, я заберу твою Ба. Если же найдёшь меня, я дам тебе их. С этими словами Джек показал Джону свои бриллиантовые запонки. Дети любят блестящее, и эти запонки были достаточно ценными для того, чтобы игра была честной. Почти что честной. - Хорошо, - сказал Джон, улыбаясь. В его понимании он выигрывал в любом случае. Если он проиграет, он поможет Джеку, если выиграет - то получит эти блестящие штучки. - Отлично, - сказал Джек, ускальзывая с этими словами на Жёлтую Дорогу.
Порой среди старых историй ты сможешь услышать о том, как Джек одолел Дьявола и выиграл несколько душ, на которые имел свои виды. Именно тогда Джек и попал на Жёлтую Дорогу. Говорят, что это место находится между кошмарами и смертью. Старое, гнилое место, наполненное ненавистью и отчаянием. Говорят, что Джек прошёл по Жёлтой Дороге, которая на самом деле не жёлтая и не совсем дорога, созданная светом гигантского Изумруда. А этот Изумруд - даже, точнее, вещи рядом с Изумрудом - дали Джеку множество денег. Но было и нечто, в миллионы раз худшее. Я слышал, что... что Он был там. Они говорили о тёмных, бесчеловечных вещах. О концах миров, о местах, где отчаяние теряет ценность, а самоубийство - смысл. Говорят, что тогда было сделано злое, тёмное дело. Что за дело? Даже Бог об этом не знает, а мы можем лишь надеяться, что оно не принесло никакой выгоды. Но Джек из любых дел может извлечь для себя выгоду.
Игра длилась долго, даже после этого вызова, ибо Джеку было весело. Он вспомнил, какова была его жизнь до того, как он стал Джеком Эмпти. Он вспомнил своё детство. Он вспомнил, как охотился за грызунами и ломал им шеи. И ещё кое-что. - Джон, - обратился к нему Джек, - можно спросить тебя кое о чём? - Конечно! - выкрикнул тот из того места, где прятался. - Какая у тебя фамилия? - Демпти. Джек почувствовал, как в его голову упёрлось дуло пистолета. Он сидел спокойно. - Джон, уходи в свою комнату! - велела Сэнди Эмпти. - Но я и Джек... - ДЖОН, ЖИВО ИДИ В СВОЮ КОМНАТУ! - Я уже там. - Ты назвала его в честь меня, - улыбнулся Джек. - Ты эгоистичный ублюдок. - Так что же - то, что сына моей питомицы зовут так же, как её хозяина, - лишь совпадение? - Заткнись. Почему ты всё-таки пришёл сюда? - А почему ты оставила меня со своим отродьем? - Мне надо было купить пистолет. - Ты могла отправить бы его к своим друзьям прошлой ночью, - улыбнулся Джек. Этот разговор даже напомнил ему о былых счастливых временах. Он вспомнил, как отрывал конечности своему первому Хранителю. - Почему. Ты. Здесь?! Сэнди ненавидела Джека. Она мечтала выпотрошить его все последние десять лет своей жизни. Она хотела, чтобы он сполна ответил за все свои хитрости, фальшивые улыбки, то, как он смотрел на неё, и то, как она притворялась, что не видела этого. Взгляды, которые позволили ей осознать, что он никогда её не полюбит. Для него она была лишь питомцем. - Почему же ты принесла меня к себе домой? Почему я не мёртв до сих пор? Опусти пистолет, Сэнди. Я обязан тебе многим, равно как и в тот день, когда я нашёл тебя. Джек встал. И Джек улыбнулся. Это была вполне человеческая улыбка, ничего общего с издевательской насмешкой, всегда играющей на его губах, не имеющая. Она была единственным, что могло сделать его ещё более ужасным. - Позаботься о мальчике. Я верю, что когда-нибудь он станет невероятно важным. И Джек вышел из дома на улицу. Хранитель Конца его уже ждал. - Что же, Йоханан, Мы полагали, что ты пробудешь в Убежище, пока твоё время не истечёт, и за твои ошибки заплатят эти люди. Вместо этого ты закрываешь их от Нас и жертвуешь собой. Почему? - У меня было дело. И я должен его закончить. Надеюсь, этот мальчик будет счастлив наедине с собой, - рассмеялся Джек долгим, жестоким, беспощадным смехом. - А вообще я не знал, что ты можешь разговаривать. - Этот носитель не говорит. Говорим Мы. Ты не сделал ничего, но лишь перетасовал карты. Ты не действуешь ради жадности. Ты не хочешь уничтожить этот мир. Ты даже Нас не желаешь уничтожить. Мы устали от тебя, - говорил Хранитель, на чьих губах играла улыбка, бывшая даже хуже улыбки Джека. - Но Мы получим от твоих криков несравненное удовольствие. Сказав это, Хранитель Конца схватил Джека. - Нет, - ответил Джек, смеясь. - Не получите. Он смеялся, пока его волокли обратно, в ту самую палату в психиатрической лечебнице. Он смеялся всю дорогу. Говорят, что если ты отправлялся к Хранителю Конца в девяностых, то вместо голоса, разговаривающего с самим собой, ты слышал смех. Никто не знает, почему. Другие говорят, что если ты до этого слышал смех Джека, ты бы отметил определённое сходство.
Считаю ли я Джека мёртвым? Вряд ли. А если же он умер, то я благодарен всем богам, что у него нет души. Потому что говорят, что он старше Легиона, и он живёт лишь благодаря мрачным делам и богохульным договорам. Говорят, что большинство из Них побывало в его руках как минимум однажды. Говорят, что он уже не Искатель, ещё не Хранитель - нечто посередине. Говорят, что он побывал в центре Ада и смог вернуться.
* - английский каламбур. "jack empty" - "пустая пропасть".
Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
Как вы знаете, я - человек, не особо обременённый моралью, и за многие вещи, которые я одобряю, меня во времена инквизиции три раза бы сожгли и скормили бы прах собакам. По правде говоря, я плохо переношу такую вещь как ханжество, и на свете есть очень мало вещей при виде которых я буду орать "фу!111это же аморально!11уберите эту дрянь!11" Но блять, даже я не смог стерпеть того, что передо мной в метро, в час пик сегодня стоял гопник и его шлюха, и эта шлюха вовсю надрачивала своему ёбырю хуец, заботливо вытащенный из ширинки. И теперь я даже жалею, что я не сказал им, что кроме них есть ещё целый вагон, и что почему бы им не порадовать весь вагон своими брачными играми. Возможно, всё дело в том, что меня ни капли не возбуждает московское метро.
Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
Если бы меня не отвлекали так чудовищно в пятницу, я бы сделала куда больше дел, чем успела. А в итоге презентация моя так и не допилена, переводы завтра буду в спешке писать в метро, а что делать с тем самым рисунком на годовщину и одной да-когда-же-я-её-уже-допишу-рассказявкой я просто не знаю.
Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
А я так и не написала об этом, хотя собиралась. Не так давно довелось мне поиграть в этого всеми расхваленного слендера. Буду откровенна - я скачала эту игрулу исключительно потому, что мне обещали, что у меня уже после первых пяти шагов кирпичи посыплются. Поиграла. Прошла за пять дней с учётом моего постоянного местонахождения далеко от дома. Играла долгими, безрадостными, бессонными ночами с выключенной лампой, чтобы уж окончательно не издеваться над бабкой, с которой я делю комнату. Кирпичей так и не дождалась, неожиданным появление этой твари было только первые несколько раз (возглас: "внезапно!" про себя кирпичами счесть вряд ли можно), а потом меня уже просто задрало, что меня убивают и убивают, а я никак не могу отбиться. Ощущения от этого геймплея как у здорового человека, которого зачем-то усадили в инвалидную коляску и запрещают вставать. А не так давно показала я эту игрушку своему отцу. И мы с моим отцом впервые за последние чёрт знает сколько лет пришли к согласию хоть в чём-то. Не страшно, бессмысленное ограничение, катастрофически не хватает нашего общего старого друга, плазмагана. Ибо иногда, когда у тебя вооружённый, но бессильный что-либо сделать герой, тебе становится намного страшнее, чем когда ты знаешь, что тебя всё равно укокошат ещё не раз и не два, и ты можешь только с этим смириться. В первый раз неожиданно, в пятый - обидно, дальше уже просто раздражает. И я даже не знаю, печалиться ли мне насчёт того, что я зачем-то повелась на мнение народа, скачав очередную хрень, или же радоваться, что хрень иногда людей сближает.
Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
как же я ненавижу, когда кто-то из моих родственников остаётся дома в мой ЕДИНСТВЕННЫЙ, БЛЯТЬ, ЗАПЛАНИРОВАННЫЙ ВЫХОДНОЙ, КОТОРЫЙ Я ХОТЕЛА ПРОВЕСТИ ЗАЕБЕННО и начинает каждую грёбаную секунду так или иначе портить мне жизнь, влезая в мои дела и манеру их делания. Блять, если мне удобно изображать из себя Юлия Цезаря - одной рукой делая одно, другой - другое, смотря туда и при этом ещё и разговаривая по телефону - то мне так удобно, блять. Не первый год так живу, и мне заебца. И нехуй говорить мне, что я нихуя на деле не делаю. Нихуя бы не делала - давно бы попёрли бы меня отовсюду. А я ведь ещё сегодня хотела очередную ежемесячную презентацию допилить. А вот хуй мне с гренками - меня же сейчас затрахают во всех смыслах. Уже идти надо, а я в итоге не сделала нихуя.
Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
Знаете, что я терпеть не могу? "Переводчиков", которые куда-то там лезут, свой хуй в каждую дырку суют, а на деле не могут даже понять, в чём разница между "fate" и "destiny". Блять, да вот из-за вас, да-да, именно из-за вас мне порой становится стыдно за мою будущую профессию. Хочешь переводить? Так лучше уйми свою хотелку, пока не отчекрыжили. Я тоже много чего хочу. Например, стать доктором математических наук, в то время как я от тысячи отнимаю 120 и получаю 780. Или же чтобы мои картины в Третьяковке висели. Хотя "художник" я от другого всем известного слова. Знаешь английский на уровень своей средней школоло, даже если ты в ней писал контрольные на пятёрки? Знаешь любой другой язык на уровне той же школоло или "ну-у... я там когда-то в инете самоучитель прочёл, что-то понимал, потом забросил"? Тогда руки вот от того, на что покусился. Хватит делать из хороших текстов малочитабельное говно "зато на русском!1111" Это уже просто надоело. Бездарный - так не выпячивай свою бездарность.
Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
Дождь, холодно, холодно, дождь, я опять где-то приложился пальцем, надо рисовать, а руки словно издеваются надо мной, не желая вставать под правильный угол, вай-фая в этом универе как будто бы нет, и я никогда не думал, что буду так зависеть от интернета.
Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
Ыаааааа... Ну почему, почему, почему только я найду какой-то более-менее себе уютный мирок - так приходит хуё-моё реформатор и разве что не разносит всё подчистую - начинаем, ребятки, сначала, вы сами хотели качества! Это настолько нечестно, что я скоро от такого расклада буду бегать по потолку. Дабл трабл, как говорится.