A Trap for a Thought-Form. Playing Another Reality. M.A. Bulgakov award. Alexandra Kryuchkova
Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу A Trap for a Thought-Form. Playing Another Reality. M.A. Bulgakov award - Alexandra Kryuchkova страница 6

Название: A Trap for a Thought-Form. Playing Another Reality. M.A. Bulgakov award

Автор: Alexandra Kryuchkova

Издательство: Издательские решения

Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика

Серия:

isbn: 9785005660626

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ and “our one, our” the Moon Cat, according to Bulgakov’s apt statement, “will certainly make agreement with each other.”

      And, perhaps, by prior agreement, they deign to “lift the curtain by the edge” (Vladimir Vysotsky, songs for the audio performance “Alice in Wonderland”), that is, lift the veil of Mystery, for you personally as well. Just turn the first page of Alexandra Kryuchkova’s book and… start reading.

      You want your life to become an exciting Game, don’t you?

      Gunnar Arshinov,

      member of the Union of Writers of Russia,

      laureate of literary awards

      The newspaper “POETOGRAD” No. 1 (397), 2022, G. Arshinov, “Phenomena of Alexandra Kryuchkova’s literary work is Labyrinth of mysteries!”

      http://www.poetograd.ru/arch.html

      https://reading-hall.ru/publication.php?id=30302

      Thanks!

      The author expresses her great gratitude

      to all the characters and prototypes of the novel,

      including:

                       Alexander Lons,

                       Konstantin Bely,

                       Sergey Arshinov,

                       Boris Mikhin,

                       Ivan Borisov,

                       Grigory Samoilik,

                       Vitaly Volkov,

                       Boris Krasilnikov,

                       Natalya Sklyarova,

                       Alexey Beklemishev,

                       Roman Tyapugin,

                       Vladimir Morozov,

                       Ekaterina Kordyukova,

                       Irina Antonova,

      as well as:

      Ray, Pasha, Wanderer,

      my son Andrey, our cat Josephine

      and everybody else!

      A TRAP for a THOUGHT-FORM

                                      I dedicate my book

                                       to every reader!

                                       As well as to:

      my great-grandfather Viktor Glinsky-Safronov

      and his friend, the writer Mikhail A. Bulgakov,

      the Bulgakov House in Moscow and its inhabitants,

      including the Honorable Mister the Puss,

      the Moscow City Organization

      of the Union of Writers of Russia,

      and all of my thought-forms’ prototypes!

      Chapter 0. PROLOGUE. The GLOVES

      A few years before

      I stood by the sea, with my back pressed against the Dark Tower, looking up into the black starry sky. In August, the stars used to fall there. I wanted to catch one of them to make a wish (the most common one, for mutual love), when suddenly the phone rang.

      “Hello, Alice,” Ray called me, as usual, from an unidentified number.

      “Hi,” I said softly, being afraid he was only a dream.

      “How are you? Where are you now?”

      “I’m catching stars at the Dark Tower. It looks like your Tower. I wish you were here with me now…”

      “Don’t forget I am a ghost…”

      And I woke up…

      ***

      “You remind me of that man, so…”

      “The sorcerer?” Roman asked.

      “The Magician,” I clarified, being mentally in the Other Reality in search of my gloves. “We are going to give a performance on the 14th of February. I want you to play him.”

      “Whatever you want,” Roman smiled.

      Probably he admired me in some field and somehow, silently and somewhere in the depths of his soul. However, there was an invisible inner connection between us, which he probably did not feel. Roman reminded me of Ray…

      “What is the role?”

      “You will come to me out of the Mirror every night. Until you take me away from here…”

      ***

      “As usual? Seafood salad or chicken?” asked Pasha smiling. He was a good-natured boy, waiter in a restaurant on the seashore by the Dark Tower, and he spoke my language a little bit.

      “Yesterday I had chicken, so today bring me salad, please.”

      I glanced at my watch – “Almost midnight!” – but I wasn’t alone in the restaurant. However, it was always calm there, and I’d never got afraid to return home late. Or rather, to the house where I used to live in summer.

      “Okay. And coffee from me. Want, my girl?”

      I didn’t scold Pasha for addressing me as “his girl”, and I left one euro for tea. How many years had I been coming there? And always, with the exception of joint evenings with Dimitra, my friend, a local resident, I dined at that restaurant.

      ***

      Gloves… the black ones…

      “Where did they come from?”

      The Guardian of the Portal recorded their appearance in his diary. He loved numbers, dates. They were symbols. As well as the gloves.

      The СКАЧАТЬ