remnants of the skin, which covered the skull with a dry tarpaulin. White hair was developing the wind. A familiar picture, but I did not pay attention to her before, when I saw her at Dvorak's house. But Arseny decided to bring her. I think he considers it successful. I did not even know what it was called. He stepped forward and leaned over to the nameplate: "Immortality." I raised my eyebrows after reading the title. Then looked at the picture. Where did he see immortality? Well, what can I say ... this is Dvorak. In my opinion, not the most successful picture. Perhaps Arseny took it for high-quality detail. She was here on top. Okay, I once again looked around the picture, going a few steps back. Although, here, on the wall, among other paintings, it looks quite serious work.

I looked in the direction where Arseny went, in the hope of seeing him. But no. Well, while I continue to watch myself. New pictures were not. All of them I saw at home at Arseny. Having looked at another five minutes at the coffins, bones, fences of dead people tightly knit together, I heard hastily approaching footsteps floating in the boundless seas. My intuition did not let me down, it was Arseny.

- Damn, Seryog, I'm sorry. There were questions with the head of the House. Well, how are you? Are you watching

- Yes. And what is not one new is not? I remember all these with you.

- I have not finished one yet. The other two seemed to me not the most successful. And these already at my house some friends saw, appreciated. So I decided them.

- I see. And where are you still surrealists. I want to see, compare. Here, what is in this room?

- Yes. Behind the wall, here is the extreme. But even in that room hung out. Not a lot of places. Therefore, they are there, with landscapes side by side. - Arseny actively showed with his hands so that I, apparently, certainly did not make a mistake when I look.

Having made me a company for ten minutes, he again apologized and had to leave. I crossed with him only when I was about to leave. He thanked me for visiting, and I, in turn, for the invitation. I really liked it. Although a little thought gnawed at my brain like a mouse gnawing a bag of millet. Persistent and true. It was necessary to invite Julia. Why didn't I do this? But it was too late to regret. It was not too late to look for answers. But I did not want to carry out any complex analysis, having decided to simply surrender to my feelings. If I want, I want, if not, then no.

Tonight I washed all the dishes, swept the floors, took out the garbage. Going to the bathroom, I saw a tablecloth lying in dirty linen. Clean up, so clean up. I poured water into the basin and soaked it. While the tablecloth was soaking, I washed the sink with a cleaning agent. Cleaning the house so lured me that I did not notice how the time came to twelve nights. Here it is. I have to go to work tomorrow. Tomorrow begins a new cycle. Only now this cycle will run, it seems, is still a circle.

The room smelled damp and laundry detergent. My clothes dryer was completely covered with wet things, part of them had to be hung on the open doors of the slate, as there was no longer any space left on the dryer.

I sat in the chair and looked around. Pure linoleum, on which it is pleasant to walk barefoot, and various small crumbs and sand, a clean computer desk, a bed with new fresh linen do not stick to the feet. So it would be every day. But such enthusiasm I have from strength once a month.

I lay down on the bed, put the phone next to me, and gave myself to a sneaking sleep.

Who abruptly and without warning threw me again at the citadel. I only saw the back of the little one opening the door.

- Well, stop. - I quickly navigated, already accustomed to such abrupt changes in the situation.

- Do not be afraid. Come on. It's good there. - Spoke baby. Grabbing my arm, he pulled into the door that opened. We entered a room that was slightly smaller than the previous one. It was filled with orange pale light, and a light, barely noticeable mist.Everywhere in it were large, shapeless heaps, long, large, short. Baby went to one of them and flopped on it. Under his weight, the shapeless mass prodded, allowing him to plunge into himself. I approached him, cautiously looking around.

- Let's start to understand. Who are you? And what are you doing here? - I squatted down next to him. He stroked his hands with this object, currently playing his chair. He was slippery and soft. Small dents remained under his small fingers, which, by the way, were quickly straightened.

- I am. Your subconscious. You put. Locked up You yourself wanted to. I feel good here.

- Not. This is not good. Let's get out of here, follow me, I know the way out.

- Why from here? You just do not know. Be here You will see everything.

I wake up. My subconscious ... Now, scattered pieces begin to gather in a less clear picture. My thoughts. It seems that my subconscious gives birth to them. Or, this citadel is my thoughts. And they locked my subconscious. And it now requires of me debauchery. These thoughts come from me, from the very depths. From here. Here they live, in this citadel. And my subconscious is captured by this nightmare. But I must not destroy it. The old man told me to just get the subconscious out of here. Apparently, this will be enough so that my lustful thoughts no longer creep into my head. It seemed that an insight came upon me. Here it is, the key to my torment. In my hands. This little man. I'll just get him out of here and that's it. And my real life will be different. I walked around the room, looking at the amorphous masses laid out on it. Touched a finger. Very smooth surface and terribly pleasant. Then put the whole palm. How nice to iron it. I don't even know what it is. I pressed, and she got under pressure from my hand. Trying to sit down carefully. Mass is forced through. So soft and comfortable. She seems to know how my body wants to settle down, how easier it will be for the muscles to relax. My pleasures were interrupted by a growl. I turned to my subconscious. He also sat in his chair and stroked two huge hyenas. They pressed their ears and wagged their tails. Licked his hands, then slipped their muzzles closer, began to poke their noses into his cheek, lick her. He sat and giggled like a little boy fondled with homemade puppies.

I wake up. A hammer pounded in his chest. I took a couple of hesitant steps.

- Not. Do not touch them. - I told him.

- Why? They are good. Watch it. Pat them. It's them. They are very strong.

- Do not touch them, they are not good at all, you probably do not even understand what they can do.

Hyenas turned their heads on me, raised their ears to the point. The upper lips twitch slightly for a moment, exposing white sparkling teeth.

- Come here, fast! - I angrily shouted at the baby. Frightened, he climbed down from his chair and walked over to me. I hugged him and pulled me close. - Go from here. Need to leave.

The hyenas opened their mouths and began to growl. Their hair reared at the withers, transparent saliva dripping from the large white teeth. I, having pressed the kid, stepped back, turned my head fluently to see where I was stepping.

Behind another door. I opened it, and we went out into a wide corridor. I closed the door.

- These are bad animals, do not touch them anymore. Do you understand?

- Yes. - He raised his eyes on me. - There are a lot of them. Sometimes they sleep. Sometimes not. They are hungry. Is always.

- I know.

I looked around. For a moment, I was struck by the fact that I quickly adapted to new situations in a series of my dreams in the citadel. If you remember how it all began ... the desert, a huge scary tower, without entrances and windows. And now, a couple of weeks have passed, and I'm already saving the prisoner of the citadel from a pack of huge hungry hyenas. Long corridors, gigantic halls, old man, hyenas, subconscious. I treat them as if it was all in the order of things, as if every day I come across this in real life.

“Do you know how to get out of here?” I don't want to go back there. - I nodded in the direction of the door closed by me.

- Yes. - He barely heard him. - Come on.

He took my hand and led me down the wide corridor in which we found ourselves.And I dutifully followed ... Read more →