Rus Articles Journal

About life and death

about life and death

Once in the childhood when to me there were years eight - nine, lead understanding that this world - the most mean of all worlds, and people - the most disgusting that the Creator thought up to the own harm, failed on me all the very heavy weight. Accident then of an event still corrodes me from within.

We then were on vacation and played in the yard. I and my friend Sashka - the Grasshopper. There we saw a red kitten who ran up to us and began to make up. “Hi, Saffron milk cap! What ridiculous muzzle at you! And huge green eyes! Probably, you are hungry and would not refuse a piece of doctor`s sausage?“. Sashka drove home behind sausage, we fed a kitten, played with it, and then he escaped, and we went for a walk for the Fence. The concrete fence surrounded all our military camp. And usually we remained in its limits, but this time we decided to diversify routine and go for a walk for the Fence. Behind the Fence it was possible to find many interesting shtukention. For example, sleeves from cartridges, lead battery plates from which, having melted them on fire in a can, we poured stuff, a live turtle. The world was full of interesting things. And everything was of genuine interest.

Having made a big hook, having come since one end of the Fence, we gradually left to another. In pockets empty sleeves from “Makarov“ and “Kalash“, a stopper from import beer, a piece of blue glass jingled. I long laughed when saw that short-sighted Sashka grabbed from the earth a small round sheep shit, having taken it for a pool. Mutton shit and boss! It`s killing! Here to tell boys! Here will amuse!

Having fun with all the heart from this thought, I, a boot sock, knocked on a box from - under cake which suddenly occurred to us in the path. And under it, having been dumbfounded from misunderstanding and horror, I saw what until now could not dream me in the most bad dream …

Quickly - quickly raising sides, not moving and having poluobmorochno rolled up eyes, with the smashed head and with the slightly opened mouth untidily bedaubed with blood under a piece of cardboard that Saffron milk cap died...

Later the feeling of a catastrophic nature and irrevocability of our thoughtless existence

will press down many times still me the very heavy oppression. Also as well as the feeling of full not thoughtfulness and a vseopravdannost made by us will cause in me more than once desire to die.

Death - as the finely and the most devoted of all, the bride in white, but not the bony old woman in a black loose overall and with a braid in a hand. Majestic, with a sweet smile on pale lips, attractive Mortiya. Oh, as often I dreamed of you! In what mad dreams you came to me to call with yourself. As often I dreamed of you and asked “Take away, take away me with yourself …“.

And you quietly called me as if you sang a lullaby to the firstborn. I remember when I stumbled and fell from break by the head down to sharp stones, I was sure that I fall in your gentle embraces, and nothing from now on will separate us. And surprise of the companions who ran away down behind my remains when they did not find on me any scratch.

When, owing to heavy intoxication, was hospitalized with enzymes in blood a hundred times exceeding admissible norm and the attending physician with the pupils expanded for horror called an ambulance, mentally saying goodbye to me. To me did not even give things to pack. And as after doctors were perplexed how it is possible to remain still live with such indicators. And as did not get out from - under droppers and saws handfuls any chemistry to stupid and mindnumbing stitches, and slept with a mad smile, knowing that you wait for me while nurses twisted a finger at a temple. My Mortiya. My fine. My beloved.

Once you were closer to me, than ever, so, that I felt your hot passionate breath on the neck. To me whereas time it was executed twenty five. At a party that guy appeared. Sergey. But he called himself in the French style: Serge. Serge was abrupt. Worked at some Turkish restaurant as the bartender. Dragged gin and whisky from there, smoked the presents of “Malboro“ and “Kent“ and still which - that. Here that evening he also suggested to try what it had - it postukat to itself(himself) on a breast pocket. “Rubbish“ - as he called it. That it was, I did not understand. We then ekperimentirovat everything. Who with alcohol, who with hemp. Who guzzled some wheels. Everything, except me. And here … Everything occurred quickly and unclear. “Rubbish“ turned out so worthless, or, maybe, the drunk alcohol added the, but I long could not recover.

I had a crisis. Literally, coma. Any tunnels, angels in white, universal love. In total - stories for inhabitants. You trust in tunnels and angels? Here to you some tunnels of various forms and coloring! Here to you angels and archangels with pipes and in white! Here to you afterlife! Well, or, maybe, I already then was so guilty that the Lord straight sent me to hell.

And felt everything that I saw - and I literally saw, heard, smelled and perceived at once and at once, and in a format 3D, or, can 4D, or 20D - so everything was “sverkhzhiznenno“ - at first, it such universal melancholy and grief that at first I burst out crying. But I cried not as even the most sad cries and unfortunate of us, and in twenty, hundred times is more sad and more unfortunate. The feeling was it as if all grieves of the world went in at me in the head, and I mourned each of them separately and all together at once as death of the hotly beloved mother who dies every minute at me on hands and I cannot do anything.

Then I appeared in a body of some car which went on the dusty road among absolutely naked hills on which nothing grew. All landscape was so ugly and inhospitable that I wanted to close eyes. The bumpy road a snake wound to the left, to the right. Shook the car, and I hardly kept for its boards on the run not to take off from a body. What the car is no that for the district and where we went - I had the slightest concept.

In air and in monotonous roar of the motor the disgusting, disgusted presentiment of accident hung. Having curtailed once again to the right, in the distance I began to distinguish outlines of some structure - plant, an elevator. Having come nearer, I heard something reminding an iron gnash, a jingle of some chains, noise of motors. I also saw that it was valid something like an elevator, with the conveyer belt which is slowly creeping up. Mechanisms, most likely, were old and not absolutely serviceable - so they creaked and gnashed. Then, having listened, I suddenly began to distinguish still some sounds. Bark, howl, that plaint.

Having approached closely, I got accustomed … What is it? What sounds are? What for howl? Dog bark? Or groans of the dead? What is it?

Having come very close to a structure, the truck dumped the speed as if in order that I could enjoy a show in full. On the rusty conveyor, in rumpled, in brown spots and smudges of some liquid, iron boxes, terrible and spoiled, in blood and bruises, with the broken extremities and the torn apart sides, in blood and Calais, dogs of all breeds and colors went up.

Bulldogs and collie, mastiffs and lap dogs, sheep-dogs and poodles. An eye was beaten out from one, and the empty eye-socket was only dirtied dirty - white rubbish. Another, without ceasing, hysterically whined, leaning on the killed forepaw, fell, vzvyvat from pain, rose and again fell. The third, without moving, lay on one side as a lot of dirty rags, and only gloss of eyes said that it is still live. One plaintively whined. Others quietly yelped. The third loudly barked. And all in eyes had it … such despair. Such melancholy and offense that I, having closed eyes hands, fell to a body bottom. But already in a second, deafened by bark also we howl, I jumped in all growth again, having nearly fallen, grasped overboard, and again, from all the tear-stained eyes peered into this conveyor of death.

Having reached the highest point, rusty container boxes, having braked, slowly overturned the freight in a black muzzle of this dog meat-processing plant then heart-breaking squeal, a disgusting crunch and champing was distributed, most likely, to the flesh milled alive. Some kind of huge meat grinder which alive devoured everything together: meat, bones, skin … still live animal.

The car passed factory of death, and, having added gas, raising red fruitless dust, cheerfully rushed off forward, carrying away me together with itself, and the plate only crumpled from rusty metal with the inscription “Chinese Hotdog Plant“ ominously looked to me following.

At first I without controlling itself sobbed violently, fought the head about truck boards, shouted that they stopped and released me. But the truck, having never braked, rushed further, quicker and quicker …

Next day, tell it was evening, I recovered. Tubes, droppers, dirty ceiling … Whether there was it a dreadful dream or narcotic nonsense, I did not understand. And that it meant - I did not know. And, maybe, I visited hell? Feelings were so real that just as after a dream we try to revive a dream in memory, remembering its details, I tried to forget the quicker. To erase from memory. To delete. But far from it. Once I closed eyes, everything repeated anew. Of course, it is not so distinct and realistic, but the picture of horror and death was always on my mind.

I felt ill at ease. In any case it “feel ill at ease“. I was captured by panic horror. I so got agitated that on the same day to me it became worse, and the nurse without hearing as I called her that I slid in a coma … again This time you me met

personally. My beautiful Mortiya. Oh, as you were beautiful. Your person was pale, lips red, and eyes Xing - cold. Your look got inside, and hands lasted towards. You passionately substituted under a kiss the krovavo - red lips and beckoned me. “Go, go, the little fool“.

On you there was a white veil. Yes, a veil as if you were going to get married. And who was that unfortunate whom you decided to okhomutat? Who was that poor fellow, that damned, that sentenced … And here I understood that this time you chose as the promised me.

- No, is not present and once again not! I loved you, loved more Life, and now I have to die?!

- Go, go, foolish. Or you want to return to the silly life where you only also do what you kill each other, torment, destroy?

- the Lie! Your lie! We still love, we build, we help each other!

- Silly. What you are silly. You love not Life. You love Death. Me. I am your bride, and each of you is married me! Let`s go with me. Let`s go, and I will show you as you love me.

And here Mortiya takes me by hand. Her hand surprisingly warm, as well as the very young girl, but not cold as I expected. I obediently follow it … and here I in that truck again, and again we rush through a lunar fruitless landscape. By naked hills, red dust, the gray sky …

I here we in some room rush. Walls dirty - gray, wall-paper hang down in pieces. A small window through which sunshine hardly get. In a corner a crib. In a bed someone is. Someone moves. Something rattles, hisses and gurgles.

Curiosity gets the best of fear, I approach a bed and I see the small child. By sight to it years three - four. Child as child. Only person … The person, as well as a rubber doll which it was pressed so that the lower jaw failed.

- What is it? - I in horror turn to Mortiya.

is? It is Lena - Mortiya answers, smiling.

- And what is with it? What with the person?

- the Wolf mouth.

I peer. The lower jaw at Lenochka has not enough. Top it is split, split in two. Lenochka all the time rattles. In a throat at it something gurgles, then escapes outside, and the saliva stream with the white remains of undigested food flows down through an oral crack on a blanket.

- And still Lenochka has a heart disease and there is no vagina. Lenochka from the city of Novoistyumsk that in twenty five kilometers from Semipalatinsk. Lenochka was born at parents who very much wanted that they gave birth to the girl. The little daughter with black eyes and white volosika. The girl was born. Only, as you see, not absolutely healthy. Semipalatinsk girl.

- But Semipalatinsk grounds are closed long ago. Tests are not carried out long ago.

- Such children will be born at allegedly absolutely healthy parents as early as years hundred. And in a year Lenochka will die. But at first she will enjoy Life. Besides three operations that by it was already made, by it will make five more. Will cut it so that she will spend the remained year of life in constant pain. Add here still indifference of officials, bribes which should be given to doctors that looked after, properly, constant shortage of means. Her father left in a month after its birth. Now becomes an inveterate drunkard. Did not sustain. Mother drinks too and in three years will get to a mental hospital. There it will be “treated“ also in a year, having finally gone crazy, she will die in the vomit as a mangy dog. But nothing, my Lenochka it will be better. I have it not at your Life.

I am struck. It is struck that I do not find words in protection of Life. Perhaps really the Death is finer than Life? Perhaps all illusion? Everything is only thought up by us? For us? Why such life, from which only one flour? Why to cling to such? Why to think out any fairy tales? Perhaps Greeks who dumped from the rock of weak and crippled children were right? Perhaps North American Indians when they sent the aged parents to Death Valley were right to be the torn to pieces wolves or to die for hunger, thirst and cold, at last, to find the world and rest?

We come back. And here I again in the chamber. And the same white ceiling. Same tubes and droppers. Somewhere behind a wall someone talks. Life goes on...