I waited and not turned back, although this situation I was in, it was only that. But as трусящий skydiver novice delays before jumping every thousandth долечку seconds to push away this decisive step until despair will prevail over the real estate and not push it, and I suffered numbness.
I already thought I stand not in the house, not in a dark room, and in the vast space, the only filled, so it's dark emptiness in the middle of which soars lonely table covered with a tablecloth, red with black patterned. It панихидно lights dim sad light. And I'm dying in this eternity.
How long this horror, I could not determine. But she ended as suddenly as it began.
Someone had touched the back of my hand and I deeply and gave a sigh, and instantly jumped to the side, turning the lightning round, like a coiled spring, оттянувшись back and sat down on the right foot and put over the head of his hands relaxed. I myself could not understand how it is so I suddenly and turned out nicely. Through the darkness of fear in my mind flashed a bright spark of self-admiration and encouraged me with your light.
Peering into the darkness, I saw standing serenely my evening friend. In one hand he held a paunchy Nickel-plated coffee maker with аккуратнымкрасиво curved nose, in another managed to hold two earthenware cups and a teapot from the same service for welding of tea.
From all this there was steam, intricately swirling in the immaterial, неяснм light керосинки and уплывающий in the darkness.
The old man smiled weakly thin, pale lips, looking straight at me. A moment of standing, he suggested:
'Well, young man, that your young body needs reinforcements, ask to the table. Don't get offended modesty meal. I most humbly request to the table.
With этимим words he carefully put on the table of both the kettle and cups, and drew out somewhere in the darkness two chairs with высокимим headboards, оббитыми old, потершимся, but sturdy material, it seems Atlas. Then with a heavy сопением drew them to the table, put against each other and motioned for me to sit down.
I obeyed. We sat at the table. The old man poured on полчашечки boiled water and stared at me questioningly:
"Well, what do you drink? Tea? Coffee?
I was surprised by his manner разговора.я dumbfounded looked at him, and said:
-Coffee, if you can...
"Why not, " replied the old man, and his dry hand reached down, зашарила somewhere in my bosom of his jacket.
A little digging into his heart, the old man pulled out a small round tin box and squinted smiled toothless senile mouth:
-From the family inventory, so to say, on the occasion of the extraordinary guest, and looked at me fixedly bleary eyes, as if trying to see something in me through old поволоку, powder затянувшую them knows how many years ago.
I wanted to ask, what in me such extraordinary. An ordinary man, kid almost still. But I said nothing, and the old man, not explaining their obscure words, to prepare the drink immersed himself in this work.
I silently and with surprise observed, as he, like a magician, he pulled out of the small and not мельмиоровую, not even the silver spoon, and сыпанул bit brown powder from the banks themselves, and then me in a Cup. The old man seems to be not жмотничал, but there was something rational, selfish in his movements, as he watched, that not one speck of dust fell by, on the table and not be in vain.
When finished, he tightly corked the Bank, and she, along with a spoon disappeared in the depths of his jacket as mysteriously as it had appeared.
The old man turned to me and asked:
-You, the young people prefer to drink coffee with chocolate or brandy?
It knows where from undertaken way of talking to an old lad was not really surprised me how many, probably, irritated and frightened us. There was something unnatural, наигранное. He's not talking to me at the bar, and then somehow spoke. I felt that the old man is playing some kind of cunning, a captivating game, but I was wondering why he'd want to. This whole strange to mysticism evening so wrong and disturbed my heart some extraordinary aching longing. This dark house, this table in the middle of the room, immersed in the darkness, the kerosene lamp, a mysterious old man, then disappearing, appearing in the dark, but now decided to have a drink with me coffee with chocolate or brandy, — all this has floated past me vague own confused dream which I have dreamed myself weak-willed observer, and all around me were eligible , раскручивалось some kind of action that I was somehow the Central figure. Man cannot escape from the "I" even in a dream, and it haunts him everywhere.
My heart was suddenly calm as indeed I saw only a dream, though scary dreams plagued my mind whenever I start them swell. But I now became calm. In a relaxed сознаниисами, in addition to the will of surfaced lines:
Misty sleep, wrapped in a Grand piano,
Already playing on top of a day,
And snow, thrown into the sadness,
In the plate melts me.
They were born on their own, without any effort of the brain, безнапряжения memory and thought. Though some of chaotically moving experience between them, fluttering and again сталкивющиеся words units, participating in a mysterious game, light flirting, like individuals, have found each other on some mysterious laws, joined, forming a chain, formed in combination, creating out of chaos something natural, almost harmonious. Apparently, and MCA nature created yourself or the Lord God fingering variations, just as he created the world as we see it, once born and becoming part of it. May and now my brain served only as an instrument for the continuous creation. Why else would so easily and quietly, so quietly was on my mind, why is this miracle happened by itself without my participation, flowed like an aura words, not owned by me and came from nowhere. They flowed like a light smoke from autumn fire in a quiet windless weather, shimmered and brought bliss and tranquility, разливающиеся throughout the body. I almost physically felt their movement. Maybe it so people come to the revelation, the revelation of the Lord God:
Snow off the roads, dirty, old, evil
Is not going to melt
The smell of the street, bloated and rotten,
Kept on мукках fiery memory.
Poetic feelings come to me sometimes. But it happened so rarely, at the most inconvenient time and in such inappropriate places, that there was no way nor write, nor remember the beautiful lines, visited my head. I heard that Pushkin had often to jump up at night and record came in the head verses. Him like that, probably, like me suddenly dreamed of magic lines, and he rushed to the paper, lit a candle and wrote, wrote, wrote... Well, I? In fact I am not Pushkin, though I would be worth to try to do this. Maybe Muse would then more favorable to me and visit me more often than now. Probably, Pushkin and was a great poet, because it never missed a chance to write born in it stanza. Otherwise he disappeared into oblivion as destined, probably disappear for me.
Location my spirit was gradually returning to normal, and I was inclined to the conversation with the strange new friends. At first I tried to find out who he is. But the old man replied something vague, undefined, and this mumbled under his breath. So I understood nothing, but out of politeness pretended all to hear. In turn, the old man asked who I was. I parried his question hints and half-words. Each was left to his own.
Topic of conversation was over, and he was now alive. But here the old man said suddenly, of the other, and we were transported to another plane of conversation, none of us not directly related. And animated conversation.
Once inadvertently I touched that life has now become expensive and heavy, that when I was young, living was much easier. Then my old man how to break.
He started telling me how they lived in his childhood and youth and even in pre-revolutionary times. I wondered, did the old man lives for so long that remembers the time, but not asked him.
Here the old man remembered that we wanted to drink coffee, which has already order to cool down, cleared his throat disappointment, staring into the Cup with a sort of faded drink, порязмышял over it a moment, and then threw her the contents of a broad gesture somewhere in the darkness, made coffee for a new one.
-Chocolate or brandy? he asked me again.
I don't know what to say.
-With cognac...
"Very well, " replied the old man, again reached into his bosom, and his jacket, he pulled out a little, I felt value пузатенькую bottle of intricate configuration with a bright label and a screw cap and a small wooden box in which lay transcribed паралоном miniature crystal wine glasses, gleaming their faces in the flickering light of керосинки.
Then he carefully unscrewed the cork of the bottle, put the toy shots, pulling them out of the boxes, and one of them pushed me. Then he strongly squinting, so as not to miss in the darkness, poured a little brandy.
-Please, — he handed me a glass.
I never drank coffee with cognac, and therefore did not know how to do. I heard only, that coffee drinking. But how? in order not to embarrass myself in front of the master of the house, I drained стопочку, and then began to drink cognac hot coffee, barely while not choking and обжегши tongue and lips.
Carefully watching my steps, the old man smiled. Then he drank his coffee, I don't even pay attention to the way he did it, and put своюю Cup on the table.
When the pain from the burn a little отпусатила me, I asked him to distract:
-Please tell us why you don't include electricity?
The old man пошамкал lips, apparently пытаясьподобрать answer:
-The fact is, young man, that in this house there is no light. Not long ago.
I was surprised:
-I haven't quite understand...
-What is there to understand, " replied the old man, " no, that's all.
-But why?
The old man looked at me with a sly squint. His little eyes sparkled slyly a sparkle.
"Young man, " said he to me, you at least know where you are? You are standing on the threshold of the greatest secrets and ask any stupid questions about electric light! Give you to understand, that let you make a small, tiny step, very small, very miserable, and you will be introduced to the mysterious and unknown to the world to you. You will be involved in it, and it will be a burden, you will bear.
-Excuse me, why must I bear this burden? — immediately tried to defend myself, I still intrigued by his words, but it is not able to understand where he was headed.
-Because it is what will happen. You wanted to know, what is this place?
House, " I continued, instinctively protected taken aback such unexpected turn of conversation. — Actually, I don't see anything strange...
-Well, how? You've asked me a question, why there is no light, no?
"Actually, Yes, " I agreed, " but not more...
-Well, if I tell you why there's no light I'm sure you want to know and everything else.
I don't know, maybe...
"But I know I, — the old man lowered his voice. — You want to know further. I tell you but one условтем.
-With какми same? I inquired, зинтригованный the tone of voice of the elder.
"As long as it does not matter. But, having heard from me something that I'm going to tell you, you already cannot be released from the cargo that fall on your shoulders celebrate their good. Then, in virtue of the circumstances, you become his servant, and will bring his whole life, why would you not worth it.
-Yes, but why are you so sure? — I was amazed.
The old man leaned back somewhere in the darkness, and from there became visible only the pupils of his eyes, and then брызгающие tiny sparks:
-Because I know. I know, not because lived a life and I have some life experience. Any experience of mortal too small to even touch the secret laws of the existence and the overflowing of the forms of existence and non-existence, of darkness and light.
I for a moment thought that he is not his words, as if saying them under hypnosis. I have never been on sessions ventriloquists, and only heard about the terrible mystical view, but now it seemed to me that I attend this session.
Here the old man shook himself as if from his sleep and started to speak more human language, closer to the earth's substance of the conversation.
-I lived my life, son, " said he long, stretched and tired, — the whole life, and people taught me something to understand.
I pretended not to hear those first words said by my strange friend. I was scared.
-Tell, please, why did you choose me? How you found me, and who am I to trust me, you do not quite familiar person, some secrets? Is it the pub, where you met me there was no one with whom to do подобну joke?
-No joke. But I wanted among shit purest алмазик.
-I'm алмазик? — I had to once again surprised.
-I understand that you all that unusual, strange. Hooked on some old man at a table, invited, kind soul, a mug of beer, then something in the guests invited, took me into some strange, is more than strange house and carries nonsense. But the old man made a movement, and in the dark, somewhere up above his head забелел raised index finger. — But! You too inattentive, my friend. Let me call you so?
-You me so long ago already call, and I'm against it, it seems, did not object.
Yes, but now I ask you for permission. However, what was I saying? Ah, Yes. You too inconsiderate and it fails you... in Fact, with what joy or sorrow, you have to be careful? Youth, fun, naivety, carefree life... Isn't at that age condemn a man because he is poorly developed powers of observation and a little attention? You still owe nothing to anybody, don't owe anybody anything, you don't need to look around, not to be careful so you don't see who's watching you, who you are interested in.
-Unless someone is interested in me? I smiled, but said the old man for some reason strongly was flattered моегму self-esteem: "If you are interested, then you're not so small fry, a look for yourself.
-And how! "exclaimed the old man. — You still too poorly know the life and invisible , secret communications, which for most people is unknown to the death. Meanwhile, life goes according to the laws of these relations, it is not interested, do they know about the people or not. Human life is a funny thing, this is the devil переплетениеинтересов, intrigue and passion. Sometimes don't know what a turn in your destiny awaits you. Don't know if you are not familiar with the secret ties between the living, between the living and the dead between present, past and future. I already know, but this is a useless burden. Life is lived. And now that my knowledge of its laws? I wish I was your age with today my grey head. The vertices I would have soared. Now, all that's that. Wings collapsed and burned in life перепетиях. A regrettable paradox of life. When you're young and strong, stupid and vain, when you're leaning into the grave, then suddenly there is a terrible, passionate to leave a footprint on the earth. Bitter law of transition from quantity to quality: the number of years lived makes you wise, but the decrepit and powerless. Knowledge and expertise to thee for a long life, become vain, painfully oppressive heart load. Yeah... But what I began, however, do ye not remember? Oh Yes, you were asked whether you someone interested in. Well, I will answer: Yes, yeah, might not easy to be interested, and to ask with great force. For example, you, in particular, for a long time carefully and closely I am interested in.
