A Trap for a Thought-Form. Playing Another Reality. M.A. Bulgakov award. Alexandra Kryuchkova
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Название: A Trap for a Thought-Form. Playing Another Reality. M.A. Bulgakov award
Автор: Alexandra Kryuchkova
Издательство: Издательские решения
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
isbn: 9785005660626
isbn:
“Can ask? U love babies? I want job 1 year & make babies. I want babies. If u want. As God want… boy + girl. Yes? How u want? Tell me… Tell u want 2… Translation: Do you want children, Alice? How many children do you want? Tell me! Tell me the truth…”
I collapsed into bed and roared.
Chapter 8. PROFESSOR of the UNDEAD
I entered the room with a postbox for letters to the Creator. The Guardian sat on a chair by the door while I was scanning all the space in details.
“Each item is a portal,” I came to the conclusion.
“I agree with you,” the Guardian confirmed without any emotion.
“How does it work, inside the Portal?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Has anyone ever left?”
“Some books. Disappeared and appeared. Some others.”
“Are the others here, in the Mansion?”
“Of course,” the Guardian smiled, obviously with no intention of showing them to me.
“What else?” I asked as I slowly moved around the room.
“Just little things… Dresses, gloves…”
“Gloves?!” I looked at the Guardian. “By the way, there is a story about gloves in your book, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Haven’t you read it?”
“No… Sorry… It’s just…”
“Just? What do you mean?” the Guardian approached me.
“I know what it is about.”
“Do you?! Wow! It’s interesting! Tell me what it is about,” asked the Guardian, coming closer.
“The gloves I lost. You found them in the Portal. Then they came back to me, but I passed them to you, because you were looking for them. More or less like that.”
“What else?” the Guardian touched my third eye with his gaze, and it started vibrating. “Are you able to read information?”
I closed my eyes to get in There, but the door suddenly opened and the silence exploded with…
“MEOW???!!!”
***
I introduced to the audience an absolutely incredible Professor of the Undead, author of the “killing” book titled “The Killers’ Trade Union, or the Undead Boarding House”, and the guests began to bombard him with questions.
“Which way do spirits come into contact with the living?”
“Are there any statistics on the number of the Undead in Moscow and St. Petersburg per square meter of living space?”
“How long do thought-forms and mental entities live?”
“Do you have scars from vampire kisses?”
“What did you feel after you slept with a mermaid?”
Closer to the break, Roman appeared in the hall. When the guests lined up for a photo shoot with the Professor, I sat down at the table by Roman.
“Do you think that…” I asked him mentally.
“No, I don’t,” he answered without listening till the end.
“Give me a hug…” I said, and Roman hugged me. “I’m very tired… More and more often I feel like I live according to some script. As if I’m on a train that used to stop somewhere, but now rushes at full speed without stopping in order to… Well, you know… I can’t change anything, however, I wish you were able to…”
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