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the apartment is already falling evening, the silence is broken by a phone call.
- Vassenka, - a hateful voice murmurs in dynamics, - do not forget that the car was purchased in marriage. Mine is half. When will we divide?
- But you haven't worked with me for a single day. Which half?
- So what? - the voice on the wire is surprised. - I should not work. Rejoice that I have lived with you for ten years, although I could have left a hundred times already. It was to whom.
I press the call, because I do not have enough strength to talk. Because an atomic bomb explodes in my stupid head. She burns thoughts and feelings. What kind of idiot have I been all this time ?!
Have to sell a jeep. Like it or not, but she is right. And behind her back is a powerful defense: my half-brother. Divorce lawyer. What a twist of fate! About seven years ago he dropped the phrase:
- If you suddenly need my services - please.
Contact your mother. But no! She will not get my iron horse under any scenario.
I grab the keys and documents for the car from the shelf. Close the door behind me. I try to do everything quickly, until I change my mind.
Jeep flashing amiably towards and soothingly rumbling motor. "Farewell, my faithful friend," - I think under the soft squeak of snow under the wheels.
We ride with him along the long, long road. The engine obediently grows, and the speedometer stubbornly crawls over one hundred and twenty. I rush to an enchanted place, where every two weeks a new funeral wreath appears on the road pole. I do not know what will happen to me, but I hope for good luck and my car.
I drive up to the "crossroads of death" when the speedometer shows one hundred and seventy. I turn the steering wheel and direct the nose of the jeep into the concrete fencing of the road. Reflexively throwing speed and do not feel the impact. The last thing I see is an exploded airbag and windshield fragments flying into my eyes.
***
How strange. Why does nothing hurt? Why is it dark? Am I blind from the blow?
I do not feel any hands or feet. Wet darkness around is amazing ... safe and calm. Probably you feel that way in the womb.
I want to ask: "Is there anyone alive?", But suddenly I realize that I ... have no mouth. And there is nothing to ask. Somewhere in the back of the mind the thought sways, that there is no one. Around the soul, I'm alone. But for some reason I'm not scared. For some reason, I'm sure that I have someone to protect.
As if through a quilt the voice reaches. I can't hear him, because I don't have ears either. I FEEL him. This is such a ... native and hateful voice. So says my brother:
- If the child is born within three hundred days after the divorce, he will be considered the child of your husband.
A slightly breathless voice replies to him:
- I know, dear. You will help me with this? Even if Vassenka requires DNA analysis, what can he prove?
Brother laughs:
- We are with him - identical. DNA will show that he can be the father of a child as well as I am. 100% guarantee still no one will give.
They are silent. And during this time I am trying to understand what is happening.
- Dear, - her voice is again heard, - you thought of everything? Is the child exactly going to be the heir? I would not want to lose the company. Though small, but tasty.
“Of course,” her brother reassures. - Damn, now I regret myself that ten years ago I gave Vaska advice on how to secure assets. That damned marriage contract didn't give you any chances. But the child inherits the state in any case.
“You're so smart,” my wife admires for the time being. - Smart and cool. And what shall we do with Vassenka? I do not want him to suffer much. Still, I lived with him for ten years.
- Do not worry. I have already invented everything. He adores his car and serves it strictly in one workshop. This is a matter of time and ... money. Driving at high speeds is very dangerous. Sleep, baby doll.
Silence envelops me. Peace and quiet. A strange peace creeps into the soul and cradles brains, forcing them to disconnect from the world. That strange world in which I unexpectedly fell. I want to sleep.Long and hard. Everything that happened before the accident is gradually erased from memory. I forget everything and fall asleep. For a long nine months.
***
I am pushed out by some kind of force. And I resist, because I am afraid to leave the now-usual refuge. I hear some woman screaming. I feel how the fights are trying to throw me out of the shelter. Having no strength to resist, I swim, helping myself with my hands, through a narrow, dark and damp tunnel to the exit. Behind which is a bright light. He beckons to him more and more. And it already seems to me that I do not want anything so much as to be there - in the circle of fascinating light.
- There is! Shouts a triumphant voice. - Congratulations, Mom, you have a son.
I fall into someone's huge soft hands, feel a light slap and open my mouth. The lungs fill with air, and I scream.
- What a loud voice. - with emotion says the one that holds me in her arms. - What a strong little boy. All in daddy. It is a pity that he died so early and did not have time to see my son.
I open my eyes and try to get rid of the dull haze. It does not work, everything looks blurry, like on the old damaged film. But I see a woman with her legs spread. I do not know who she is, but I understand that this is my dearest person.
The door swings open, and I hear a male voice:
- Congratulations, Svetlana Igorevna. The heir to the company "Sun of the Worlds" was born. You become his official representative.
I know this voice. I heard him when I was blinking in the dark. He promised me a quick death. I still.
I understand that I am about to forget everything again and become an ordinary child. But I am sure of one thing: I will arrange for my parents a “heavenly” life.
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Your stories always shake, turn the soul, causing a flurry of emotions. And then 10 is just not enough, it is simply impossible to evaluate them, because all estimates are too low for unconditional talent. This is a high literature, and not a porn story. The text is so full of feelings that it can not leave indifferent, and under the impression of reading it, I, perhaps, will walk for several days as a somnambulist. Although of course the impression is heavy, and the picture of the world you created is somewhat bleak.
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Nettle, I read, not blinking. From my point of view it is great. There is no sophisticated fuck-tararaha, but it is stronger. What a pity, how terribly sorry I am that the “not porn” tag does not participate in the contest of stories of the month. Of course, CT would have attracted even more readers, he decided to put this story on the main page. Nettle, thanks for the plot depth, characters and beautiful, verified language without stupid illiterate sentences. The story is in my favorites.
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I will break my principles - I will comment.
Fiddled something, nicked))))
Put, of course, the highest score for the technique of performance and for artistry ...
And you own a pen, and the plot twist is interesting.
But do not behave like men. At least those that are worth writing about. Do not own the topic)))
Either wet, goat, or plump week. So that all the problems, in comparison with abstinence, seemed to be complete bullshit. What, in the ass, psychologists?
But absolutely normal peasants - do not care. They have spare airfields, and, more attractive, by this time there should be about a dozen)) A person should be in courage for a week with blackjack and whores)))
All the others - do not mind. They themselves Mother Nature threw out to the side. What do you care about them?
In short, it smacks of chernushnoy end in itself - to find dirt. And in general - in what world do you live?
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And can I object? Everything you wrote about is correct. But there are exceptions. But he loved, just loved this stuff. There are some loyal men! And he did not run to a psychologist, just a psychologist was his friend.Betrayal is the worst thing that can happen to a person. And there are no standard approaches to his experience.
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It is impossible)))
I am quoting Yerofeyev for the third time this week: “Well, I knew that I said: you will go to the right - you will definitely get to Kursk railway station. You were bored in these alleys, Venichka, you wanted a fuss - so get your fuss ...
- Come on, - I dismissed myself from myself, - do I really need your fuss? Do people really need yours? After all, the Redeemer is even, and even his own Mother - and he said: “what am I to you?” And even more so to me - what am I to these fussing and hateful?
I would rather lean against the pillar and squint so that it would not feel so sick ... ”
If we talk about exceptions - then what, then, is the target audience? Shortcomings, which after several years of marriage, even a child is not? But who needs them?
I told you, - I read “Mumu” and “Gray Neck” as a child, sympathized with the poor fellows, developed the necessary spiritual qualities - and that's enough for that.
What am I to the all orphaned and needy? I have enough of them at work. No one will regret me, in which case so that my bank account in a million replenished)))
Edak, you can go outside, look around and cry all day from what you see, until you go to Durkee))
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Now I believe that you are a cynic)))
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And then!))) We have it called - verification of the diagnosis. And my advice to you - you will see not a cynical doctor - run)))
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For sure! You are all like that :-) Sometimes I wonder :-) But for you it is something like the instinct of self-preservation.
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Why actually? Are you afraid of competition?
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I agree with the above written, men do not behave this way, but there are exceptions.
Although ... well, I can’t imagine that a peasant could break a favorite jeep from behind a woman, here’s to drive away garages and write a statement about the hijacking, so that it won’t get it, that’s what we can))))
But if briefly ... the story itself, the plot, the other characters are GREAT. What is called: written on the nerve, but I did not like the story.
So I do not consider myself entitled to make any assessment.
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Yes, there is just all the rules! Both brother and wife are from the “right world”. Only it is his (the world) and I want to bury!
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I'm not verbose, so it's easy - to go nuts!
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I liked it very much, it touched me and I believed it. I believed because I know - all people are different, and they experience shocks in different ways. Pity is a bad feeling, humiliating, because I express myself differently - the hero evokes sympathy. I would wait a little bit, endure it, and I would be alive ... And the moment with reincarnation was of course an unexpected one)))
I put the author ten, and I do not care that there is no porn)))
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It was interesting.
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Well, and Nettle woke up, good job, so long ago. There you are spiritually suffering somewhere, you are silent, and I don’t even sharpen my teeth. Right now, I'll start: well, like, I don’t know how you can write. Have you forgotten that guy who was falling asleep like an avalanche? Yes, such a hell forget! There, too, the emotions and suffering cart and cart. But they, damn it, some meaningful, all in the subject, all for something. Can you hold me dead, but I do not understand why I made the man a masochist, and even a nurse and a mess? Yes, and a suicide bomber? I have one answer: a process for the sake of a process. Chernukha for the sake of savoring and drinking in the process of self-pity for his beloved and resentment to the whole world. Well, tell me, isn't it in a pioneer and patzansky way: will I buy a ticket and in spite of the conductor will I go on foot? This is me about the car, if cho. And a man for schizo. category does not pass, like, normal. Then what's up? In our country, like, live smart psychologists and all the rest - shifted assholes? Somehow hard to believe. Well, and to whom some morality from this porridge to extract, to whom what a vivid example? I do not quite doper. Well, unless, to pick with nails, as in an epigraph.
Well, and in style, as if, order: you skillfully glow the atmosphere, not sparing epithets, the storyline with rebirth gives originality - it's good.
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I do not understand the outrage of men readers. If you think that you would not have acted as the hero of the story, this does not mean that such a variant is not possible for a man to do. All people are different. Moreover, the present is constantly slipping cases to us, proving that the behavior of men in stressful situations may be more than inconsistent. After a quarrel by his wife, one respected policeman went and shot innocent people in a supermarket. But recently there was a case, the husband of a deputy of the Novosibirsk parliament, allegedly out of jealousy, blew up a grenade in the car, killing himself, her orphan daughter. I am sure that in the first and in the second case, the men were, well, in any case, they seemed to be around, not at all schizo, but more than normal. But so the pancake did.
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I do not understand who was able to put a low score for such a beautiful piece. Apparently only those not far away, that used to read and, sorry, Masturbate. The story literally took out the soul. It’s a pity, of course, that the soul has moved into the body of a person entirely belonging to such rubbish, but otherwise everything is just fine. Emotions, experiences, plot, everything is on top. I put 10.
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