Thistle. Rodion Rakhimov

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СКАЧАТЬ understand where it is so I’d. But apparently somewhere hard did you hit your head, that not only the body but the brain remained motionless. And I only subconscious knew where it went, I felt every cell of my still young body as the droplets, particles, took my may be worthless, but my own life. Then there was darkness. Oblivion… the Sky was lit up with a green shimmering light. In the rays of the laser projectors, filling all the sky, solemn rows of airplanes. Behind them stretched a huge piece of cloth with portraits of the rulers of the Earth from the great and Herod, to Yeltsin and Reagan. If it was Sabantuy, not a village or district, and, most likely, on an international scale. Where different skin colors people had fun, participated in the competition, struggled on the sashes and running in bags, and danced, and sang in all languages of the world, and that is interesting – I understood. “Happy holiday, dear friends”! – heard from the heavenly speaker.

      “Hurrah – Ah”! – cheered people into the air and flew colorful balloons. But suddenly the planes began to dive and with their hatches howling bombs rained down. He collapsed at home. The land was burning. A bright flash lit up the sky. Turning the space into a tube and started to grow a huge white mushroom.

      “Well, that’s all”! – I thought.

      But that was not all. The sky is again lit up in a disturbing flickering, half the sky closed silhouette have dried, stretched goat skins. She was illuminated, and there was visible blue veins dried. And here’s a vein started to throb and drip blue blood, from the edges to the middle, showing the outline of an inhuman face: hooked nose, glass eyes with red feline eyes, hairy ears, curved back horns, behind the membranous wings. Ahead stretched the hairy, with the dried traces of blood, clawed hand, cold eyes moved in search of something, then barabasi glance rested on me, and a hoarse voice shook the heavens: “it was his fault. He didn’t do anything”!

      “And that’s what I did”? I thought, feeling the spinal cord Arctic cold.

      Then the bed rattled opened, and I flew down.

      “What kind of joke is this,” thought I, passing by bags of potatoes, Vilkov cabbage and jars of jam in the underground. At the time I was supposed to stop the fall, hit the ground, but I flew further and saw more and more fluttered the ragged edges of sheets in the doorway of my bed.

      I was flying in an inverted funnel, creating a vacuum. In the neck, and it was my bed, now beginning to suck all.

      I flew into the abyss. Tore past me fragments of boards, bricks and broken glass. Behind them the cars with headlights on, bleating sheep. Aircraft, even falling, shelling each other with rockets. Seen as baby stroller, torn from the stopper, moved on the carriageway, which is accelerated, raced “BMW” with tinted Windows. They faced, too flew down. I tried to stop the wheelchair, reaching a hand, but suddenly his leaden arms and legs didn’t obey me…

      Fear, separated from me by a black shadow and becoming a shadow of the shaggy old woman, began to catch up to me, stretched her bony hands and gaping toothless mouth finally swallowed me whole.

      Tightened and the Earth, expanding it in the plane, like a map of the planet and the entire solar system…

      “I am not guilty!”, – I cried. But my words could not be heard.

      The world went to hell, with him and me. And I had to do something, to fix something and everything back in its place, but I, as the losers have a school Board, not to learn the lesson, stupidly looked around, waiting for clues, and nothing could think of. Right and left, colliding, exploding planet, the debris of which grew the letters, and the letters lined up into words: “Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!”

      Something is not clear, a dream, not a dream. We would have woke up, but I couldn’t. And somewhere deep down was aware of his involvement in what happened. But only partly.

      So I was sitting on his haunches in line. For me this pose has always been a handful, which could not be said about the prisoners in the shipment and the southerners, who can spend hours squatting at the bus stop waiting for a bus. Waiting for something, and what – is unclear. My foot is swollen to impossible, but getting up was impossible. Do not write the rules. Violators were sent to the end of the queue.

      The ceiling and walls was not. Maybe they were, but they were covered with a viscous twilight haze. There was only the floor that was moving like a conveyor belt. Began to bake, from somewhere below. The air was soaked with the stinking smell of rotting meat and the atmosphere of boundless horror. It was impossible to sit. Feet hurting horribly once received cuts and abrasions. Each pain swollen and festered. I tried to change the position of the body. And then got burned on something hot.

      – Reporting sung! Watch train! came to me from somewhere below, a faint voice.

      “Sorry,” I said.

      Took a closer look. It was with singed wings, June bug, very similar to those we caught in childhood and put in a matchbox, and then, feeling their fate was released over the fire. My eyes were like saucers!

      – What, rookie? asked beetle.

      “Yes,” I replied. – And what are we doing here?

      You’ll see him he, fluttering over a hot frying pan with high sides, like a roaster. Not being able neither to sit down, not to take off.

      I was surprised by the situation “admission” absolutely no service, no chairs, no Newspapers, no magazines to pass the time.

      – What seats then do not give? – I asked.

      – Give, for those who have georgoi, – burring, interfered with the neighbor on the right. I’ve heard that voice.

      I raised my head.

      – Academician Saharov, he introduced himself. It was a skinny camel, had fallen on the side of the hump. Its apparently been very thirsty and he was thirsty. Although there was gurgling ditch, but he was behind a high fence. Sometimes, when groans and heart-rending cries were a bit quiet, you could hear the sound of water. Water – the symbol of connection between past, present and future.

      – Yeah, – I was surprised.

      – And those who have hurt front legs, those waiting in limbo – said the academician, chewing his gum.

      – That the service honey did not seem, ' said the bass one-handed, fighting General, hanging on the other, a dislocated arm. Introduced. – General Lebed.

      From its camouflage of his jacket, pierced by shards of an exploding helicopter, it smelled more like gunpowder and kerosene.

      – Well, – I said, looking around the queue, consisting of all of the people who lived on Land which had no end or edge, and, as far as the review, they were:

      – Vernadsky.

      – Michelangelo.

      – Hemingway.

      – Bryullov.

      – Aivazovsky.

      – Chekhov.

      – Bulgakov.

      – Dostoevsky…

      – A long СКАЧАТЬ