Cross ❌ stitch pattern

 

Cross ❌ stitch pattern

 

Cross ❌ stitch pattern

 

Looking for Death

He opened his eyes; dawn was slowly breaking outside, time to get up, he thought. He reached for a cigarette and lit one. He was still considering what he wanted to do today. He had the day off and didn't have to go to work, choosing between sitting in front of the TV or agonizing over the computer. He decided to dedicate himself to both. He finished his cigarette, slowly got out of bed, and went to the bathroom to tidy himself up. Refreshed and dressed, he was on his way to the kitchen when he heard a rustle outside his door. Like a gentle scratching, something difficult to define. He reached into his holster, drew and cocked his gun, and quietly approached the door. The scratching continued, he quickly opened it, and... He wouldn't have the slightest chance of firing anyway; they had burst into the apartment faster than a tornado. He felt himself fall, his head bouncing off the wall; for a moment, he lost touch with reality.

He slowly came back to himself. First he heard voices, snatches of conversation, an argument.

"I told you to be careful, but you didn't, you had to hurry, you blew into this apartment like a hurricane. Gosh, if something happened to him, you know what the rest of us will do," said a tearful female voice. Her companion spoke quickly, as if afraid he would soon run out of time to say anything

. "I didn't want to do anything to him, you know I would never have dared. It was an accident. I saw the door opening and wanted to get inside as quickly as possible, it's really not my fault..."

He opened his eyes and looked at the arguing couple, Despair and Madness. What were they looking for here? His headache was preventing him from fully concentrating.

"Listen," he said, "you've got the wrong door. The guy whose wife left lives upstairs." They looked at him, of course Madness couldn't take it anymore and took off towards him at breakneck speed, calling out.

"You're okay, I'm sorry, it was an accident, it was Despair that pushed me to do this." He said this, checking if he was truly okay. Of course, he did it with frantic speed and violence. He felt that any more of these procedures and he would indeed need a doctor. "Enough, step aside and be quiet for a moment, both of you!" He shouted, needing to gather his thoughts. Madness's presence was having a negative effect on him; he was only human. He tried to calm down, observing his guests, seeing them together many times, but why today, and why the hell in his apartment? Was someone trying to get rid of him? But why? He hadn't crossed any Power's path lately. And even if he had, they usually turned a blind eye. For the first time in a long time, he didn't know what was going on. They couldn't kill him, he knew that. Death wouldn't come for him; after all, he was her only friend. They could drive him mad, and that would be equivalent to eliminating him from the game; he might as well be dead. Madness and Despair, had they come to drive him mad? He didn't know; he had no choice anyway; in the real world, he was hopeless against them. He had to improvise. "What do you want?" he asked. "Speak, but slowly and clearly, and not one over the other," he added, seeing them both open their mouths. "Hunter," Despair began. "A terrible, downright dramatic thing has happened. Such a disaster hasn't happened in centuries," she despaired. "We are in a very difficult situation from which, it seems to me, there is no way out, I fear there is no salvation for us..." "Stop," he interrupted her, realizing he would learn nothing from her; in any case, he already knew they weren't after him. He felt much more confident; now he could concentrate on what they wanted to tell him and help them get it out. They were the most incompetent messengers he had ever seen.

"Madness, you'll try to explain this to me, but slowly and in as few words as possible. Try," he pleaded. Poor Madness, it might have been too much for him, saying just a few words, and slowly at that. He could see how tense he was and choked out, "The Powers have gathered, we have a big problem. The Council said only a Hunter can help us, we've come to ask for help." Only Madness could speak so incoherently. He began to wonder what this could be about. He'd never heard of the Powers meeting, much less of them asking a mortal for help, even if he was a Hunter. After all, he had nothing to lose; he could go with them; he knew the Powers never asked any human for anything. This intrigued him, a rare feeling, and he decided to join the game. "All right, take me to the others," he said. Madness approached him, grabbed him tightly, and whispered apologetically,

"This will hurt a little, but I can't help it, I'll hurry." "A little," was too mild a word; he thought he wouldn't make it to the end of the journey. They had arrived successfully; no one had noticed their arrival yet, so he had time to survey the gathering. He knew most of them, if not personally, then by sight. For example, Zemsta, they had traveled together many times, and now she sat and shouted

, "People, it's the people's fault, we should get even, punish them, let them know who's in charge

." "That's not true, mortals are innocent, Envy is to blame for everything, let's lock her up somewhere, let's do it for her own good," Love cried. "But my dear, I wasn't there, and besides, I've only been dealing with politics lately," Envy defended herself. The Hunter smiled to himself, worse than little children, he thought. Lucifer and Gabriel were an even funnier sight, standing opposite each other, blaming each other. Lucek shouted

, "Admit where you hid it. We know it was you. After all, you promised people immortality, and you had to solve this pressing problem somehow. Only you had the resources to deal with it..."

"We? Look what's happening on Earth, it's one big nightmare, hell. Do you think we've created a situation we've been defending ourselves against for all eternity?" Gabriel seemed genuinely outraged. He began to wonder what they were talking about. Everyone had some sort of grudge against each other, blaming themselves for something. He didn't know what was going on. He had to find someone to explain it to him, someone who wouldn't lose their temper. He looked around the room, wondering who else could be sitting there alone. Reason, yes, this was the Power he wanted to talk to. They knew each other quite well, but they didn't like each other, and they both knew why. The Hunter wasn't a reasonable man. It didn't matter now; they had to talk. He approached Reason, sat down next to him, and asked

, "Will you tell me what's going on?" The Hunter looked at him and smiled sadly

. "Yes. We have a grim situation. Death has disappeared. We only noticed it a few hours ago. No one can say where he might be. Chaos is beginning to reign on Earth, and this is only the beginning." It's getting worse by the moment. We're helpless, we've exhausted all possible means. All hope lies with you—the last words weren't very comforting. The Hunter felt as if someone had placed a huge burden on his shoulders, a burden he never intended to bear. "Why me? If you couldn't handle it, what could a grain of sand like me do? You have unlimited powers, abilities, and yet you haven't found her. I'm only human, I wander through dreams, I possess no skill you don't possess—"You're mistaken, Hunter—" he didn't even notice when Wisdom joined in. "You possess all our abilities, some you can use, others you can't, but nevertheless, each of us is a part of you. You don't have to understand this; perhaps one day you'll understand what I'm saying. But you have an advantage over us, you're human, you'll always think differently than we do, follow different paths. You have a much greater chance of finding Death than we did. Besides, as far as I know, you were friends, so you certainly know much more about it than we do..."

"Yes, but it was a different kind of friendship. Hell, we didn't even exchange a word. We just spent a lot of time together." "Did someone call me?" Lucifer seemed to spring from the ground. "Don't be afraid, boy, we know you'll succeed, you always do, my boss has always taken care of that..." "Your boss?" Gabriel was shaking with indignation. "If it weren't for the care we provide for him..." The Hunter thought he'd go mad. First, they'd put such responsibility on his shoulders, now a devil and an angel were butting heads, just to see who had the greater influence over a single mortal. The entire room was abuzz with arguments. Everyone wanted to prove their point, old arguments, mutual grievances were rekindled. Fortunately, Reason found him in the crowd and dragged him out of the room

. "Now you know why the Powers never meet in such large numbers. There's no point in you participating in this comedy any longer. I think you should be on your way." "What if I can't cope, if I can't handle it?" "Easy, I'm here, let me help you." It was Faith, approaching him and hugging him tightly. He felt much better, calmer. He believed in success. He was ready, about to set off when someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait. You need my help, because you see, you'll have to look for Death not only WHERE, but also WHEN." And Time branded him. Just then, Hope ran up to him and gently kissed him goodbye. The hunter left.

In truth, he had no idea where to begin searching. The very fact that Death had disappeared was improbable, especially since she had been with him even during the night. She must have vanished before dawn. He had no trace, no point of contact. He sat down on the grass and put the clod of earth he had found moments earlier into his mouth. He began to suck it slowly. He began to think: perhaps it was one of the powers that be, deciding to get rid of Death as an inconvenient rival? He immediately ruled out humans; none of them would have the strength to eliminate Death. Perhaps Death had grown tired, decided to rest for a moment, and fallen into a long sleep; after all, she had only been gone a few hours. It was a possibility worth exploring. He drifted off to sleep, ran through millions of minds in a single sigh, achieving nothing, and just as he was about to return, he felt something, tried to cling to it with all his might, but he didn't make it. Death woke up. "Fuck." He was close, he knew it, but he needed a split second. "Damn it," he repeated. He began to consider all the possibilities again. People were falling away, he knew that, so only the Powers remained. But what interest could any of the Powers have in getting rid of Death? He'd ruled out Lucek and Gabrysia from the outset; he knew their kingdoms operated primarily on the fear of Death. Perhaps Fear was terrified that he himself would die one day and decided to destroy Death somehow. Impossible, he knew that well. If such an idea had occurred to Fear, the poor thing would probably have been so terrified that he wouldn't have left some hole for several days. So who? Maybe Love couldn't bear to watch her beloved children die? Envy, refusing to accept the fact that she was beside Death, meaningless? Oblivion, having forgotten why she was doing this? Life, unable to lose anymore? Madness, suddenly going crazy? There were so many possibilities, each plausible. A vicious circle. He had to make a decision; he couldn't wait any longer. Searching the earth would be pointless; the Powers had already done that, so there was little chance he'd find anything more. Where to look for her? Where or when? That was also a big problem; he knew Time had examined every corner of history since Adam and Eve. Another dead end. They'd left him no option, he was hopeless. "Get a grip, show what you've got, don't give up, extinguish your defeat..." a fragment of a song echoed in his head. He relaxed, decided to rest for a moment. Suddenly, he realized he had something in his mouth, a bit of sand, the remains of a lump he'd sucked on some time ago. He spat out what was left, a bit of dust, the beginning and end of everything, that's what he'd always thought. He stared at that little bit of sand, the beginning and end of everything... Everything? Not just Earth, nothing else. The end didn't interest him, but the beginning, yes. What came first? Chaos. This posed a big problem. A damn big problem. In the beginning there was Chaos. And nothing more, no people, no Powers, nothing. The one place the Powers definitely didn't go. Chaos,Everything and nothing, a place with no exit. The one place where they had no right to exist. Just like people. He felt himself sweating, Reason was right to stay away from him. He knew there was no chance of returning; at least, he had never heard of anyone succeeding, just as he had never heard of anyone trying to get there. And therein lay his chance. A shadow of it, in fact...

Without further hesitation, he rose, sprinted, and quickly ran through Earth's history, stopping at the threshold. The place separating his world from Chaos, a thin, almost invisible line. He didn't look back, having already made his decision, he took a step forward...

This wasn't how he'd imagined it. He'd thought Chaos would be full of images, things, colors, sounds, and that it would all be just what? Chaotic? Something had gotten to him. He didn't think about it anymore. He was stuck in the middle of a white desert, nothingness. As if he were walking in a fog thick as milk. Whiteness and a terrifying silence. The powers that had once given him the Powers had vanished; besides, he wouldn't be able to use them here anyway. He was just an ordinary man again. I'm gone, he thought, stuck here for all eternity. When he realized this, he felt much better, as if a huge burden had been lifted from his heart. "So, since I'm here, I'll look around," he said to himself and laughed. As if there was something to see. Infinite nothingness. Was Death here? Possibly, but the chance of finding it was slim to none. Well, he had nothing else to do, he started walking. He walked for a very long time—was it hours, days, years? In nothingness, time doesn't exist. He could have been there forever. He decided he might as well just sleep. What else was there? He wasn't tired, really, just utterly bored by the monotony surrounding him. He lay down and began to feel something, something he couldn't quite pinpoint, something he'd felt hundreds of times. He tried to remember, to reawaken his mind. Tears. He felt them clearly, the ground strewn with dried tears. Someone lost was crying. The hunter rose. His instincts had awakened, so he hadn't lost them. Chaos had only stripped him of his power, unable to kill his senses. He might not be able to escape from here, but he could certainly find the person who was crying. Perhaps it would be Death? He wished so much. He followed the trail of tears, tracking like a wolf following a wounded doe. Sometimes the trail would break, but he managed to find it. He kept running, not knowing how long his chase would last, but one thing he was certain of: he was getting closer. Suddenly he realized something had changed, it took him a moment to realize it. It had gone dark, but that couldn't be possible, not in this place. Something was wrong. "Fuck, I'm such a complete idiot, how could I not have thought of that? The blind, great Hunter went blind because he's a complete idiot!" He screamed. He blamed himself unfairly; he couldn't think of everything, he was only human. He knew where he'd gone wrong. The omnipresent whiteness blinded him; he knew so many mountaineers it had happened to. Most of them had their blindness reversed, some remained blind for the rest of their lives. Well, it had happened, he thought, it must have been meant to be. He just couldn't accept that he hadn't foreseen it. Now he had to complete the mission. After all, he still had other senses. He moved on, still running, his goal so close. Yes, it was her, Death himself, he could already smell her scent. He felt truly wonderful, he had won again. He approached her; she was sleeping. He debated whether to wake her, then decided there was no point. Besides, he needed rest. He sat down next to her. He would love to see her now; he knew she was beautiful, almost like an angel.He didn't quite understand why people always portrayed her as a scythe-wielding Grim Reaper. Probably out of fear. For a moment, he felt tempted to peer into her dreams, but he resisted; he respected her too much. He could feel her sleeping fitfully, that she was crying in her sleep. He placed his hand on her chest and poured peace into her heart. Her breathing evened out, and sleep brought solace. The Hunter sat beside her, wondering what to do next. He had found Death, now he would have to figure out some way to return home, to escape Chaos. He knew he had a problem, and besides, blindness significantly limited his options. Maybe it didn't matter here, but you never knew. Would I ever see again? The question rattled in his head like peas in a rattle. He decided he'd think about it later. He turned his feelings toward Death; they'd known each other for so many years, spent a lot of time together, and even though they'd never exchanged a word, they were probably friends, which was probably why he'd undertaken this mission. He would never have done so much for any other Power. He never told anyone, but he loved her in his own way. Perhaps Love knew; it had to be her doing. Did Death feel something for him? He didn't know, she should have taken him away so many times, but she never did. Maybe she liked him, or maybe she just needed him. Regardless, they were inseparable, working together. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice her beginning to wake up. She opened her eyes, she was having a very pleasant dream, she was dreaming... She glanced to the side, was she still dreaming? A hunter? Impossible. Her mind was deceiving her; he looked just like him, only his eyes, white as snow, the eyes of a blind man. She decided she was still dreaming; he would never reach here, he was an ordinary mortal, well, maybe not ordinary, but... Besides, there was no chance he would find her here in Chaos. She wondered if she could touch him; after all, it was her dream, she could do whatever she pleased. Gently, so as not to frighten the dream apparition, she touched his hand. "You're awake, which is good, because I was just about to go to the nearest bar for a beer," she heard his warm voice. She hadn't known dreams could be so real. The dreamlike nightmare was behaving just like the Hunter, completely unpredictable.He decided he'd think about it later. He directed his feelings toward Death; they'd known each other for so many years, spent a lot of time together, and even though they'd never exchanged a word, they were probably friends, which was probably why he'd undertaken this mission. He would never have done so much for any other Power. He'd never told anyone, but he loved her in his own way. Perhaps Love knew; it had to be her doing. Did Death feel something for him? He didn't know; she should have taken him away so many times, but she never did. Maybe she liked him, or maybe she just needed him. Regardless, they were inseparable, working together. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice her beginning to wake up. She opened her eyes; she was having a very pleasant dream, dreaming... She glanced to the side, could she still be dreaming? A hunter? Impossible. Her mind was deceiving her; he looked just like him, except for his eyes, white as snow, the eyes of a blind man. She decided she was still dreaming; he would never make it here; he was an ordinary mortal, well, maybe not ordinary, but... Besides, there was no chance he would find her here in Chaos. She wondered if she could touch him; after all, it was her dream, she could do whatever she pleased. Gently, so as not to frighten the dream apparition, she touched his hand. "You're awake now, good, because I was about to go to the nearest bar for a beer," she heard his warm voice. She hadn't known dreams could be so real. The dream apparition was behaving just like the Hunter, completely unpredictable.He decided he'd think about it later. He directed his feelings toward Death; they'd known each other for so many years, spent a lot of time together, and even though they'd never exchanged a word, they were probably friends, which was probably why he'd undertaken this mission. He would never have done so much for any other Power. He'd never told anyone, but he loved her in his own way. Perhaps Love knew; it had to be her doing. Did Death feel something for him? He didn't know; she should have taken him away so many times, but she never did. Maybe she liked him, or maybe she just needed him. Regardless, they were inseparable, working together. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice her beginning to wake up. She opened her eyes; she was having a very pleasant dream, dreaming... She glanced to the side, could she still be dreaming? A hunter? Impossible. Her mind was deceiving her; he looked just like him, except for his eyes, white as snow, the eyes of a blind man. She decided she was still dreaming; he would never make it here; he was an ordinary mortal, well, maybe not ordinary, but... Besides, there was no chance he would find her here in Chaos. She wondered if she could touch him; after all, it was her dream, she could do whatever she pleased. Gently, so as not to frighten the dream apparition, she touched his hand. "You're awake now, good, because I was about to go to the nearest bar for a beer," she heard his warm voice. She hadn't known dreams could be so real. The dream apparition was behaving just like the Hunter, completely unpredictable.one hundred percent unpredictable.one hundred percent unpredictable.

"No, you're not sleeping, I'm perfectly real," he said. "I'm glad to see you. It means I've found you, because as you can see, my vision isn't very good. You still don't believe me? I'm as real as you and as the nothingness that surrounds us. Trust me. Please. Until you do, I can't help us..."

She began to wonder; the Hunter almost never asked anyone for anything. Maybe Chaos was mocking her, confusing her senses.

"I don't believe you, it's impossible for you to be here. You'll never convince me!!!" she said, her voice rising. "Never is too long, even for me, you know that. You can find out very easily if I'm telling the truth." "Excuse me?" "Kill me, nightmares don't die, real people do..." It was a powerful argument. For a moment, she felt like doing it. She put her hand to his head without thinking about what she was doing. In that moment, she felt life. So he was telling the truth. She sat down next to him, buried her face in her hands, and started crying. She didn't know why she was crying, maybe from happiness, or maybe because she'd almost killed the only person who mattered to her? He touched her shoulder. "Relax, you didn't do anything to me, don't cry, everything will be alright now." He hugged her, she embraced him, but she didn't stop crying. He understood, she expected she'd spend eternity here, alone. And now he had appeared, the situation hadn't improved much, but at least she wouldn't be alone anymore. She calmed down, feeling him trying to free himself from her embrace. "No, hold me, just a moment longer, please, I really need it, just this once, can you do it for me?" Of course he could, he didn't know why she cared so much, but he didn't bother, he hugged her and stroked her head. Poor, little, lost Death... She felt so safe, she already knew why Destiny had chosen him as a Hunter. With him, there was no fear of anything, or fear of everything. She thought of his eyes with regret; they were completely dead, she could feel it, he would never see her again. "How did you come to be here?" she asked. "I was looking for you. The Powers asked me for help, they couldn't find you, so they sent me. It took a while, but as you can see, I found you. Now I just have to figure out how to get us out of here." "You know that's impossible, we're in Chaos, in nothingness, we can't escape this place." "Perhaps, but I'm not going to give up. I believe I'll succeed. We have to at least try, we have nothing to lose.

" "I'll do whatever it takes to help you," Death said. One quick thought flashed through the hunter's mind; well, he was only human.

"I didn't know that side of you... you prankster." He'd forgotten that she could read minds too. He could even swear she smiled when she said that.

"I'm sorry..." he stammered, feeling himself blushing. "Stop, you have no idea how flattered you were. This has never happened to me before. It never occurred to me that..." He felt her blush this time. Indeed, it was clear that a situation like this had never happened to her. Yes, they were undoubtedly a perfect team. He blocked his thoughts so she couldn't see them and began to consider what to do next. On the one hand, he wanted to stay like this forever, clinging to her, but on the other, he knew they had to get out. If you can get in, you can definitely get out. There's always a door. It's worse if it's locked from the outside. But any gate can be forced open. He didn't know how yet, but he had a slim chance of succeeding. But where could he find that door? It could be anywhere, even a meter away. If he could just get back to where he started, where he'd fallen into Chaos, the entrance and exit would be nearby. But how could he get there? How can you traverse a path you've already traveled, yet which doesn't truly exist? If he knew this was Chaos, he'd take a handful of sand with him, and as he went, he'd throw a grain every now and then to find his way back. It would be Ariadne's Thread, only in his version. It dawned on him that the entire path was marked, the thread existed. Death's tears, if she'd been crying since the moment she arrived, had a chance. He snapped out of his reverie. Death was still nestled against him, but as if absent, like him, lost in thought. He felt a terrible temptation to check what she was thinking. It was appropriate or not, after all, this was someone, one of the Powers, and a very dangerous one at that. He was fighting with himself. Whatever, Reason had never been his friend. He peered into her thoughts... He'd never fled someone's mind at such dizzying speed. And he'd never been so red. Even a Hunter can be ashamed. Fortunately, she didn't notice his transgression; she remained lost in thought. He gently stroked her hair, waiting for her attention. "Tell me, have you been crying from the very beginning, from the moment you found yourself in Chaos?" He sensed that she either didn't understand him or was ashamed. "There's no shame in that, tell me, it's very important. Our future depends on it.

" "Yes, probably from the very beginning..." "My sweet girl, you may have saved us. Get up, let's go, we'll try to get home."

She looked at him, tears welling up in her pitch-black eyes. The poor boy, not only was he blind, but he was also mentally deranged. She knew she would never be able to repay him for what he had done for her. "No, I'm not crazy, trust me, I promised I'd do everything in my power to get us out, but I have no chance if you don't come with me."

She was so sure of what she was saying, it was impossible not to trust him. She stood up, took his hand, and allowed herself to be led into nothingness. The Hunter was still sniffing her tears, leading them along a path they had both traveled before. A blind man leading Death. How long had their walk been? Probably centuries, or maybe a few seconds. The Hunter stopped, they were there.

"This is where you shed your first tear." "How do you know? This place is no different from the rest of Chaos. Perhaps you should rest?

" She began to worry about him.

"My dear child, have you forgotten who I am? What do I do? I am a Hunter, I have skills you don't have and never will. I feel your first tear; it's different, full of surprise, doubt, uncertainty, and despair. The next ones were full of sadness, nothing more." "She did. But did it matter? There's no way out of Chaos." "I'm sorry, I know who you are, and I believe you when you say it all began here. Are you sure this will help us in some way?" I don't see any doors anywhere, so how are we supposed to get out? Look around and you'll see what I mean.

"I'll never see anything again, you know that perfectly well. No, don't even try to lie to me, my eyes are dead. I feel it..." "I'm sorry, I didn't think..." "You don't have to apologize, you should be glad I'm blind, because thanks to that, we'll get through to our world. I've lost my sight, but I still have my other senses, which have been constantly sharpening since I went blind. And I hear the voices of our world more and more clearly, I feel the threshold between nothingness and it. Say goodbye to Chaos." He took her hand and pulled her along. They took a step and were in their own world. "This is where it all began," said Death. "Whenever I'm tired, I come here to rest. It's rare for anyone to come here; everyone fears this place, so it's very peaceful." I sat there and thought. I didn't notice, but somewhere nearby, Joy, Madness, Despair, Revenge, and a few other Powers were playing hide-and-seek. And it was Madness that caused it all. Like them, it rushed in search of a hiding place and didn't even notice that it had pushed me into Chaos. I don't blame it; you know well that's how it is, unpredictable and crazy. It was no one's fault...

"Yes, if you say so..." the Hunter said. "Well, I think it's high time we parted ways. You're terribly behind on work," he added in a sad voice. In truth, he wanted her to stay with him, even if only for a few minutes. She knew it too; they both had their responsibilities; in their world, there was no room for "I want to," it was a luxury they couldn't afford. She had to go, but first...

" "I know you saw one of my dreams, remember, the future is unknown, so maybe someday... Who knows?" She walked up to the Hunter and kissed him. It was the sweetest kiss he'd ever felt and the most bitter at the same time...

Death was already far away; he could feel it, hear the people it was taking...

"And how do you feel, Hunter? You've won again, aren't you tired of it yet?" Wisdom, who had sat down next to him, said. "I'm starting to fear you. You've grown, you've grown so much that you could replace most powers...

" "You know that's impossible, I'm too smart for that," he smiled. "Could you walk me home?" I'm very tired, and I don't want to get lost somewhere along the way. "Of course, hold on a little, it'll hurt a little." Some things hurt much more…

Wisdom said nothing; she knew what he meant; she was wisdom, after all.

He returned home and went to bed; he needed to rest; he was only human.

The Powers watched him sleep.

"And what will we do with him?" Lucifer asked. "He could pose a serious threat to us; he's become too powerful." "We won't do anything, he's no threat to us, believe me, we'll need him many more times…" Wisdom said. "If you say so…" Doubt spoke up

. The Powers went their separate ways. Only Death stayed a moment longer, looking at the Hunter with hope in his eyes. He was so calm…"

Gray reality....

"I'm pregnant!" she said. She blurted it out in one breath, having been preparing for it for a long time. Fragile and petite, she might seem defenseless and inexperienced. And yet, a whore for money. Experienced. Shapely and dainty. That fetched a higher price. She was caught. Fuck! They forgot about protection! She got carried away by the moment, and now she regretted it. Regret after the fact is the most pathetic. Him? A businessman, two children, a mansion... He didn't give a damn about any whores he fucked. His reaction was predictable... He was irresponsible. Or rather, he wasn't responsible for her. Sure, he cared about his family, about raising his children properly. But not her. She didn't exist. She couldn't expect anything from him. She knew... He was irresponsible, but he paid well for it. They forgot about protection... A slip-up. Not his slip-up! It was her slip-up and hers alone. Hers. Not his. He had nothing to do with it. The fault was hers, he had nothing to do with it. And everyone knew it. Wherever she went, she would learn the same thing. She should have stopped whoring without protection.

A blow. Her face hurt, her pride hurt, her heart ached? Does anyone like that still have a heart? A teenager drained of knowledge—heartless. Such people can't have hearts. (God! Do you hear? Comforter of the afflicted...!) The kiss gave her a black eye. Automatically, her hand went to her stomach. Her... treasure? Bullshit. More like a problem. A problem.

"It's none of my business, bitch!" That was all, that was all. A few words—bitter, sharp, utterly meaningless—ended her life, the young life of a seventeen-year-old. All that remained was the certainty that she would never see him again. He would no longer sponsor her. He would no longer dress her in fashionable finery, take her to restaurants, on business trips, boast to his friends, or even have sex with her...

She was left alone, completely alone, and had to make a decision on her own. A difficult one. As always. When someone needs you, they're not there. It's always like that. There's no helping hand these days. Unless you're the one who pulls you out of trouble. Oh yes! Pull yourself out of trouble only to get yourself into even bigger trouble... Decisions always have consequences. They have consequences. That's all. Consequences. Have you forgotten? There's such a thing... Every action, every step, everything you've done is important. And you're responsible for it. No matter what she decides, that decision will affect her life, her future. After all, each of us has a future, a damned, gray future with no prospects. But you can always offer comfort, "You have a future ahead of you"—the pointlessness of comforting her. If she kills, it will haunt her for the rest of her life. After all, that little baby isn't guilty of anything... Of course, she's guilty of nothing, nothing except her mother's failure. The failure of another human being. And that's nothing unusual these days. Every day someone passes away, falls into decline, and what about us? We pass by indifferently, just not too close, so as not to become an unwitting witness. So as not to accidentally help... After all, they say death is death. She was superstitious. Perhaps it's silly, but still. And if she gives birth...—no! She can't do that, she's too young, she's incapable of being a mother. And she won't be able to work. If she decides to give birth, who will help her survive those nine months? She'll lose her figure. The cost of living will double. Even those simple numbers appealed to her. Times two... Times two... Times two... No one will support her for those nine months. No one will sponsor her. She'll be alone... alone... saamaa... The words echoed in her head. These days, we're all alone. Alone in the "big city," among people, alone with ourselves. No one will hook up with a pregnant whore. Because that was the only way to put it.

She lived in the attic of an old house slated for demolition. The building was in a terrible state. The roof leaked, and the wind seeped in through every crack. In the summer, however, the heat was relentless. A house, a house. Thousands of such houses, here and there. You can find them everywhere. Neglected, their glory days behind them. Beloved homes of the residents—with a hole in the roof. With a leaky pipe. Slated for demolition. But they are there. And they are... And they will be... Sentiment.

She no longer had her parents. She'd forgotten about them since they'd told her to leave the house two years ago. The fight was terrible, and it was about a boy. Apparently, great love... He left, leaving her in the attic. Pride wouldn't let her return to her parents. At least it reinforced the statistics; after all, one in four children had run away from home at some point, fights were a daily occurrence in almost every home, and disagreements were always present in everyone. And thousands of children—small children—who preferred life on the streets to living under the same roof as their father or mother. Statistics. They're not scary. Not anymore. Was he having a hard time at home? Maybe he'd be better off on the streets. He'd learn to live. He'd get a taste of independence. And then there's belated regret. Fuck you with your regret. Too late. There's no such thing as forgiveness, not after what happened. Too late.

Next parts coming soon :)

Tick ​​2005

My intuition can be very wrong sometimes, but this time I feel it's not lying. It tells me I'll remember this vacation for the rest of my life, and I—perhaps for the first time—trust it and feel it's telling the truth.

It all started on a rather quiet July evening. My intuition was hiding in the distant recesses of my subconscious, so I had a moment of peace. I was sitting on Gadu-Gadu, talking to my friend Martyna. In the next room, my dad was watching TV, and my mom was having a long and incredibly exhausting phone conversation. I even wondered who I was talking to (it couldn't have been Mrs. Małgosia, probably not Mrs. Jasia, Grandma Basia is out of the question—strange!).

So I sat on Gadu-Gadu, having what I call a conversation about nothing. From the room came the typical voices of people saying goodbye—"yes, yes, okay, bye, bye, well, kisses, kisses, see you later." And finally, the sound of the phone being hung up. A moment later, my mother appeared in my room and announced,

"Well, Monisia, on Friday we're going to the countryside. To Kleszczówka. What do you think?

What do I think?! Guess what! What do I think?!

***

Dozens of hours later, I was there. Me, Ganca, my mother, and Aunt Miecia (she was the one my mother was talking to) were traveling in a strange, ridiculously small bus. Martyna found a "Stars Say..." magazine on the luggage rack, and since it seemed unrelated at first glance, we appropriated it and, to liven up the otherwise boring journey, devoted ourselves to studying the secrets of magic and sorcery.

Finally, the bus-like thing stopped in front of a rather pretty, two-story stone house. We got off the bus and headed toward the house. But we passed it and, along a green path adorned with numerous spruces, came to a small, wooden, and somewhat inconspicuous-looking cottage.

I admit, I had mixed feelings. I'd secretly hoped to spend the next week in a large, brick cottage, not a wooden one. And the cottage I'd been assigned wasn't exactly a sizeable one. Inside, there might have been three small rooms at most. The garden was more inviting. Green and surrounded by spruce trees, like the path that led up to it. A few meters from the side wall of the cottage, a table and bench, then a pear tree, proudly representing its species among so many spruces. There was also a stately walnut tree, whose branches stealthily slipped through the wire mesh that separated Aunt Miecia's estate from the neighbors' modest apartment.

And my fingers were tapping out a lesson for me, one I urge you to remember: appearances can be deceiving, and you mustn't be fooled. Yes. Remember.

Who knows, maybe the evenings (oh! those beautiful, stormy evenings, quiet, warm, and peaceful!) in such a stone residence wouldn't have been any different?

Anyway, those evenings were... Hmm... I don't know what word to use to let you know what those evenings were really like. No, I don't want to risk it. The tiled stove and the crackling wood, the bright lightning streaking across the sky every few moments, the flypaper (and the swatter! oh yes, the swatter, and Martyna, flying around the cottage with the swatter!), my grandmother repeating over and over, "Go away!", her friend Wandzia, patting herself in the bathroom, fearing cellulite, my mother, engrossed in her book—and my aunt, or rather, my mother's aunt—Aunt Miecia, and her enchanting stories about my ancestors, which we listened to with bated breath—it's impossible to sum up in a single word (right...?).

Then to bed, from which we rose in the morning fresh, cheerful, and rested. A typical country breakfast: fresh rolls, milk straight from the cow (which didn't make Martyna sneeze, despite its protein starch), cottage cheese with chives, or challah (which, given Martyna's preferences, had to be bought in bulk—that was obviously a metaphor, please don't take it literally). Then it was time to get dressed. Wash and dress. Well, yes, I admit it took me, hmm, a little longer than others. Well, everyone has their own pace...

By noon, I was usually fully recovered. That's when real country life began. I'd like to describe this life, but I don't know, I simply don't know how! There are things you can't describe because you might disgrace them and diminish their beauty. How can I, for example, describe the smell of hay? The soft chirping of crickets? The crowing of a rooster? The mooing of a cow? The barking of dogs at dusk? A gentle breeze that gently and delicately cools your face as you sit on a pile of wood, watching the fiery ball of sunlight slowly disappear over the distant horizon, behind the emerald line of trees? How can I describe all this so that it's clear that these aren't mere, empty words, written out of necessity, but that they're true, the absolute truth? Do you think you know what hay smells like? How crickets chirp? Well, maybe you do. But it's worth it (it's worth it—I'm telling you!) to experience it again. Maybe someone knows but has forgotten? Well, let them remember.

I hope you've learned the moral by now? If not, I'll make it clear to you. If you're spending a very boring, endlessly drawn-out evening, and suddenly your mother bursts into your room, all larks, and announces joyfully,

"Well, honey, we're going to the country on Friday!"—you should throw your arms around her neck and start packing your backpack. Or... suitcase!

It's all their fault!

Ratsclig sat at home, staring at the ceiling. He nervously glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eleven-thirty. The light in the room was off, only the cold moonlight and the bluish glow of the gas lamps on the street filtered in through the window, mingled with the warm summer air. Mawfreen was already sleeping like a baby. He wasn't particularly concerned about Ratsclig's mission. Askern would wake him when it was time, and he wanted to get some sleep. Mawfreen's bed was large and soft, incomparably better than Ratsclig's. He tried to use it as much as possible, because he never had the chance. Ratsclig stood and began pacing the room. The floorboards creaked loudly, but Mawfreen wasn't bothered; he continued snoring as if he'd been drinking heavily. Ratsclig was ready to leave, but he told himself he'd leave at exactly twenty to twelve. Ratsclig had such obsessions; once he'd made up his mind to do something, he had to do it. He had to, and that was it. The clock, illuminated by the dim light, showed one past twelve. Ratsclig sat down in a chair, laced up his high boots, pocketed his tiger-eye dagger, tucked his baton into his thigh pocket, and waited. Finally, as the clock hand pointed to eleven forty, Ratsclig stepped out the door. The corridor was pitch black, and he was immediately struck by the unbearable stench of stale air. He covered his mouth with his sweatshirt and groped his way to the exit door, stumbling several times over various strange objects on the stairs. The street was dimly lit. Poles with gas lamps hanging from them protruded from the black tenement houses. The air was unusually fresh and clean. There was a hint of the sea breeze in it, and it was completely out of place against the black buildings illuminated by a faint blue light. Ratsclig felt a bit strange. It was unnatural... He didn't stop any longer and quickly set off down the main street. Only closer to the port would he turn into less frequented areas. Ratsclig entered a wide street that didn't resemble the rest of the city at all. It was brightly lit, full of shops and... people. He tried to avoid attracting attention. Although he clearly looked suspicious, in high, soft-soled boots, a black sweatshirt with pockets, and matching trousers, passersby somehow didn't notice him. He was relieved when he turned into the dark areas he found so pleasant. He tiptoed through the dark park that bisected the city and found himself on the coast. He saw tall, pointed masts nearby. He ran quickly along the beach toward them and jumped the fence in one bound. He found no one there. Moreover, there was no lighting in the harbor. In the building outside the windows, he could only see some hooded figures, but there was no chance they would see him in the darkness. He wandered around the harbor for a while and found the perfect escape boat: a small fishing boat. He took a Kestrel from his pocket and whistled loudly at it. A loud sound, like a fire engine siren, echoed throughout the harbor. Ratsclig himself was startled by the sound.His heart began to leap into his throat, and his legs turned to jelly. More soldiers dressed in navy blue uniforms and armed with long straight swords emerged from the buildings.

"Hey you!" a voice came from behind Ratsclig. "Come here, jump onto the boat, you stupid idiot!" But Ratsclig instead started to run. He hadn't made it three meters when a strong hand stopped him and knocked him to the ground. A moment later, someone picked him up and threw him forcefully onto the boat, straight into the wet stain of the fish lock. He looked up and saw six figures quickly unhitching the boat and rowing towards the open sea. He sat up slowly, half-conscious after hitting his head on the side, observing the situation. Two soldiers ran onto the quay and a moment later jumped onto the boat. A man in a purple cloak embroidered with a white, two-armed cross jumped out in front of them. The first soldier swung wide at Kafrenfaen, and the second jumped behind him. Before the soldier could reach him, Kafrenfaen jumped aside and drew his golden sword from its sheath. He swung his sword in a wide circle in the air and drove it into the bottom of the ship. The soldiers looked at each other in astonishment and then suddenly took a swing at the cloaked figure. At that moment, Kafrenfaen pulled two tiny daggers from his belt and plunged them simultaneously into the soldiers' necks. They dropped their swords limply to the ground and collapsed on top of their tormentor. He threw them into the sea in disgust.

"King!" A crew member fell to his knees before Kafrenfaen. "That was extraordinary! I have the utmost respect—"

"Stop and grab the oars, Marvin!" Askern interrupted. "And you," he pointed at the king, "the other oar!

" "But..." Askern. Nelis, dressed only in a nightgown and blouse, was already at the helm. She turned and looked at Askern in astonishment. Askern returned the look.

Suddenly, a gleaming object appeared in the sky, flying towards them.

"Oh! Look!" Mawfreen angrily pointed at the flying object and picked up a large stone that had somehow made it onto the deck. The object flew towards the ship and stopped a few meters above it. It was shaped like a thin, oblong cigar, with the letters XQ engraved on its side in large circles.

"You bloody idiot!" Mawfreen shouted, and with all his might, he threw the stone at the object. The object shuddered, growled, and then rocketed into the air, creating a huge gust of wind before disappearing from sight. The boat nearly capsized from the rush of air. Mawfreen himself fell with great force to the floor, ran the length of the boat on his back, and came to rest on the side. He immediately got up, dusted himself off, and said, "They're stupid cunts!"