Necrophilia... (Even things cry...)

"Necrophilia (Greek nekros – dead, philia – love), a sexual deviation consisting in engaging in sexual intercourse with a deceased person. Legally treated as desecration of a corpse."

Encyclopedic Dictionary of Love and Sex

"Even things cry, and hearts

moved by human pain. "

Virgil

– "Aren't you so afraid to walk alone in the forest?" He bared his nicotine-stained teeth, staring at me with the expression of a lazy elf.

He was about fifty-five or sixty. His gray hair, meticulously combed to

the side to conceal his bald head, looked like a cheap toupee in the bright sunlight filtering through the tree branches. A brown leather leash hung around his neck. He reeked of cheap cologne, and the strong scent of nicotine and sweat permeated his skin. He watched me carefully, and when he didn't hear a reply, he continued.

"This is a dangerous place for a woman alone.............and such a pretty one at that." He grinned again, glaring.

"How do you know that..." My voice hung in the air for a moment. "........... I'm ALONE???" He hesitated, looking around uncertainly. The thicket of trees and bushes around me could have hidden almost anything:............. a pack of teenagers with knives............. a murderous maniac............. a pack of werewolves............. "And you're not afraid of walking like that............. ALONE in the forest?"

I stared at his wrinkled face. I could read

the uncertainty in it, which with each passing second was turning into panic. The fear in his eyes.............

"Bingo......... Bingo!!!" – He practically shouted at the dog, which a moment later emerged from the nearby bushes like a large, hairy rat, padding lazily towards its master.

– Let's go, dog, let's go.... – He urged it on, practically running ahead. Every now and then, he looked over his shoulder at me, as if to make sure I was still there and that no one or nothing was following him....

I followed him with my eyes until he disappeared from my field of vision around a bend in the path.... He probably won't be back here anytime soon....

The forest after the rain is beautiful. The gentle rays of the morning sun peek out from behind the leafy treetops, falling on the ground glistening with moisture. The ground is full of grasses, soft mosses, stunted lichens, and life...that hidden, invisible, microscopic life as busy and bustling as the center of a large city on an early, sunny morning: hundreds of insects, thousands of bugs, and millions of microorganisms constantly transforming this mysterious land in an endless process of construction and destruction. The air is like a cloud of vapor hovering over a vast vat full of magical brew...the aroma of fragrant herbs, fresh grasses, and wet earth. I love immersing myself in this world, it's another world.............. its border is marked by a belt of brownish-green, towering trees and shrubs, bordering concrete skyscrapers and houses, a world full of winding paths and forgotten roads, a world as it was thousands of years ago, when human consciousness was filled with demons, witches, and imps, a world where everything was simpler, more stable, easier.............. a world that is gone forever.

I walked slowly along a wide road full of mounds of black, dried mud, passing puddles glistening in the sun, shimmering in the depressions of the uneven, earthy ground. There was no need to rush. Near a small wooden hut for tourists (an evening gathering place for local herb enthusiasts), I turned aside, following the edge of a young pine forest planted there only a few years earlier. This path was very rarely used, constantly uphill, effectively deterring most walkers and cyclists. At the end, it joined a larger forest road that cut across the forest and connected two opposite districts of the city. In winter, it was practically impassable, and in summer, it served more as a bicycle or walking route, but it was early August, and with a little effort and a sufficiently high suspension, it was passable. I set off north. After about ten minutes of walking, I turned off onto a small, winding path that wound through the trees like an earthworm. A metal fence barrier stood before me. A rusty gate next to it stood wide open, as if inviting entry.

The cemetery was bathed in the warm rays of the morning sun. They reflected on the granite and marble monuments as if on the surfaces of tiny, dark lakes, deep and murky. Right next to the fence stood enormous stone tombs in shades of light gray, brown, and deep black. Marble plaques bearing names, surnames, and dates adorned their smooth surfaces. I found the one I was looking for...........I'll come back here after dark...........

The coffee had a strange metallic aftertaste. The apartment was stuffy, so I opened another window. A gentle breeze filled the kitchen. I sat at the table. My car keys, wrapped in a leather case, lay on the countertop... waiting. Evening fell very slowly, lazily and unhurriedly, extinguishing the blood-red sun, whose rays still streamed through the open window, creating a strange interplay of light and shadow on the cream-colored floor tiles. Gray clouds gradually began to cover the sky, heralding another heavy rain. Time stood still..........memories..............memories..............memories..............

Sometimes when we're lost, when we'd give anything just to feel someone's hand squeeze ours and there's no one waiting for us, when tears well up in our eyes and inside there's only coldness...........then we do these things, trying to give ourselves even a few moments of artificial happiness...........these are strange things...........bad things..............things that leave only pain and shame...........

The disco was full of sound, smoke, and lights..............

"I can't take my eyes off you." He stood staring at me with eyes full of alcohol.

"That's how I affect some people." I swayed slightly.

"Would you like something to drink?" He had a nice voice...........so warm and soft..............

I nodded..............

A DJ in a shiny sleeveless shirt with green hair glistening with gel was raging behind the console, striking strange poses...........as if he were high. The dance floor was packed. They jiggled to the loud, noisy music like wooden puppets on strings, controlled by the trembling hand of a drunken puppeteer. He grabbed me around the waist, pulling me toward him. I felt his tongue in my mouth, the taste of nicotine and beer. Colorful flashes of light played over the dancing bodies, blinding my eyes, clouding my mind....

"You're so beautiful..." He squeezed my buttocks with both hands. "Let's get out of here....please, let's go..."

He entered me in the backseat of his car, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

Outside, there was only darkness...rain and wind. He moved quickly, his hands gripping my body painfully. He was saying something, I don't remember the words...I could hear his frantic breathing. The rain lashed the car with increasing force. My hands gripped the leather headrests of the front seats. I felt it was about to end....Bright lightning streaked across the sky....a dull clap of thunder shook the air....and I screamed, falling limply against him. Outside, a storm began....

The dim lights of the streetlamps glinted in the darkness, drenched in streams of enormous drops. When I was a child, I was told that rain was nothing but the tears of angels; if that was how God himself cried that night, we drove in silence, passing deserted streets, and I finally dared to ask:

"What will happen now...........?" He gripped the steering wheel; he was nervous, I could feel it...........

I gently touched his arm. He slapped my hand away.

"Nothing will happen..............what should happen?" His nervousness turned to irritation. "I'll take you home and give you some money..............for shopping."

He looked at me..............I remember that look, I try to forget it every day..............

only pain and shame...........

I stood in the rain with a roll of banknotes in my hand. He drove away..............the darkness and rain swallowed him. A man from nowhere..............after him came others. Men without names or faces, I felt them inside me in dirty disco restrooms, in the back seats of cars, in the beds of cheap, second-rate hotels.........................

Too many of them to remember their gestures, too many to remember their words......................... They came and went.........................only pain and shame....................................

The sun had long since faded, the first raindrops fell from grayish clouds onto the heat-cracked earth, the clock in the hallway struck midnight....................it was time. I grabbed the keys from the counter.................................

"Give me back my shovel........... Mom!!!" A little girl with curly blond hair squealed and ran up to the chubby matron in a peach-colored, voluminous, sleeveless dress. "Mom!!! .........Mom!!...........Shovel!!!" She whimpered shrilly, bursting into tears and pointing towards the sandbox where a chubby boy in red shorts was clearly hiding something behind his back.

The bony blonde with fish eyes rose briskly from the wooden bench.

"David, give her back the shovel!" She snatched the yellow plastic object from his hands, handing it back to its clearly pleased owner. "How are you behaving! You have your own toys!" Then, clearly embarrassed, she turned meekly to the matron. "I'm so sorry...........I..........

" "It doesn't matter." The other woman interrupted. "That's just how it is with kids." She cackled good-naturedly, popping a slice of golden-orange peach into her plump mouth.

Then a long exchange of advice ensued, in which the older apprentice lectured the younger in

the difficult art of raising children, periodically interrupted by the blonde's chattering laughter and the matron's booming cackle.

I clutched my shopping bag and headed through the park. I shouldn't be walking this way, it's bad for me.

I was sitting in a snow-white office, on an impossibly hard, backless chair. To my right stood an enormous metal gynecological chair from which I'd dragged myself, aching, moments earlier. It resembled a prop from one of those low-quality, illegal pornographic films, films full of violence, semen, and blood.

The doctor hesitated for a moment, searching my name in the chart. Ten weeks. He looked at me carefully, as if waiting for a bout of hysteria.

"I understand." I replied calmly.

"How old are you?" His voice was cold, metallic.

"31.

" "Do you work?

" "No.

" "Well, everything seems fine." He looked at me slyly from behind round glasses with thick, plastic frames. He could have been forty, maybe fifty. "I think that you and......" He paused eloquently. "...the child's father, you have nothing to worry about.

" "He's not interested." "...As if I knew who he was...

" "Ah, yes...I understand..." He narrowed his eyes. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Well, you know, with a little good will and..." Another eloquent pause. "...certain measures, so to speak...complications can be quickly and easily...neutralized." He now resembled a large hissing snake, a snake in a snow-white, carefully ironed smock. He stared at me expectantly. "You know what I'm talking about...right?

" "Yes, I know..." He smiled at the sound of my words.

"If so, maybe we can agree.............."

"Yes, I know..." I cut him off mid-sentence. "...what did you mean, but.............I won't take advantage of it." – He looked at me as if not understanding............ – Thank you, sir..............goodbye.

He was sitting at his desk as I left his office, his eyes fixed on

the floor, his face all red, in his snow-white smock and thick, plastic-framed glasses...........

He didn't understand, couldn't understand. For the first time, I was supposed to have something of my own, something to own, something for myself, only myself. It was supposed to be mine, only mine.............forever. I had it under my heart, inside me, inside me...my little one, my darling.............my child. I wanted to have it.............I wanted it so badly!!! Because when you have nothing, absolutely nothing.............when you're nobody, when you come home to an empty house, an empty room, an empty bed.............when you wait for the phone that never rings, listen to the doorbell, and it's always silent.............when you eat breakfasts and dinners alone, tasteless.............bread, bread, bread.............and strawberry jam like blood.............when you stare in the mirror, drinking another bottle of cheap imported wine, and tears well up in your eyes...you want it so much, so much.............to have that something of your own. I was supposed to have HER, I wanted it to be a girl so much...........my little angel, my pearl, my daughter. I wanted HER so much!!!

The world was drowning in a layer of soft, white fluff...........like in a dream. I held her in my hands and watched, fascinated, as the warmth of my hands transformed her into wet droplets of moisture, like when I was a little girl, when everything was so clear and simple. Shop windows were full of twinkling lights, colorful ornaments, and chocolate. I could smell the air full of Christmas trees, firs, and spruces. I entered the street glistening with frost, and the car braked suddenly....

I remember the rest as if through a haze: the ambulance ride, the hospital in the snow, doctors in white coats, nurses, voices, cold and darkness....

Anesthesia, sleep..............

I woke up and she was gone. They took her out of me, took her away....

The lanky doctor with blond hair said he was sorry. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. I don't remember everything he said. Finally, he pronounced his verdict:

"There will never be another one.

There was no funeral. Fetuses that don't reach a certain weight are not human. She burned in

the crematorium in the hospital basement, along with piles of used bandages, expired medications, and garbage.

And again, I had nothing.

I turned the key in the lock. The apartment was shrouded in semi-darkness, paper blinds jealously blocking out sunlight. I pulled one aside, and cascades of bright light illuminated the kitchen. I placed the groceries on the table next to a half-empty cup of black coffee. The morning slowly transformed into a sunny, dry, and hot early morning.

I quietly opened the door to the room. Adam was still in bed. He was lying crosswise with the down comforter thrown aside. He looked adorable in his red cotton teddy bear boxers. I couldn't help but smile to myself. I tiptoed to the edge of the enormous mahogany bed and gently inched closer to him, placing my hand on his hips. These were just a few stolen moments before I had to enter a new day for good, a day full of hustle and bustle, rush, and exhaustion. I snuggled closer to him. He was everything I had and ever wanted. Forever.

I remember the first time I saw him. The sun was already setting, bathing everything in a warm, blood-red glow. The seaside boulevard was bathed in its rays. I walked slowly, passing wooden benches full of underage beer drinkers, gathered in noisy groups of a dozen or so. He sat astride the stone wall separating the promenade from the seashore. He sat and watched, occasionally raising the glass neck of a bottle wrapped in crumpled gray paper to his lips. His gaze was fixed on the sea, motionless, like a statue frozen in stillness. Suddenly, he turned his head, and his eyes met mine. I froze; I saw surprise in his eyes, but he didn't look away. I turned, confused, and quickly moved forward. A moment later, I heard his voice behind me.

"Wait..." He ran after me, gasping for breath.

I glanced over my shoulder; he stood behind me with a confused expression. He couldn't have been

more than twenty. His dark brown hair fell messily over his forehead, contrasting with his fair complexion. A loose black T-shirt fell over dark green, pocketed trousers that reached just below his knees.

"What do you want?!" – I almost growled, which seemed to confuse him even more.

– I… – he hesitated for a moment, then finally asked – ......................... who are you?

– And who are you?! – He stood, every now and then shifting his gaze from my face to the stone floor of the boulevard, as if he would find the answer there

. I turned, wanting to leave....................

– Wait........... – His voice trembled. – ................. don't go. – His gaze went to the bottle in gray paper and then to my face. – I thought maybe…….. you'd like to…..

– Do you always drink with women much older than you? – I interrupted him. He smiled, embarrassed.

– No…….................. – He hesitated again. – ......................... lately I tend to drink alone.

He extended his hand to me in a questioning gesture.........................

We were sitting on the sun-warmed sand of the beach. The sun was half hidden behind

The horizon line, playing on the smooth surface of the sea with thousands of pink-yellow rays. I don't remember everything we talked about; it was hundreds of things, hundreds of those small, insignificant things that fill our lives every day: songs we heard on the radio, the price of breakfast cereal, the colors of the rainbow..............the taste of strawberries, cinnamon, and coffee.............. As children, we splashed each other with water, standing ankle-deep in the warm sea, collecting shells, building castles.............. I laughed..............

The wine we drank had a sweet, pleasant aftertaste, quickly going to the head. I remember telling him everything..............about my child, about all those men, about all those lonely evenings..............all those FUCKING years.............. Tears welled up in my eyes, streaming down my face in salty, wet streams. He put his arm around me and pulled me close. I clung to him, hiding my face in the crook of his neck.

"Don't cry, princess.............it's alright, I'm with you now."

The sun had long since set. The warm summer evening had given way to a warm, summer night.

He walked me home.

"Will we see each other tomorrow?" He stroked my hair with his hand.

"Am I too............................. old for you?" He smiled at the sound of my words.

He slipped his hands into mine and pulled me towards him. I saw his eyes staring

straight into mine.............

"Why do you think it matters?"

"I don't know................doesn't it?" He smiled again. He

leaned over me. With a gentle movement, he brushed my hair away from my face. I felt his

lips touch mine. He smiled again.

"I'll call tomorrow morning.............." He stared at me questioningly. "............. ...........will you wait?

" "I will.............

He didn't call............. I drank three days in a row, and on the fourth, I dragged myself into the forest.

Bottle in hand, swaying and staggering, I made my way along the forest paths. I don't even know how I reached the cemetery gates. In front of the white chapel building stood a hearse and two men in black. They stood, smoking cigarettes.

"So young, the family is devastated." The older man inhaled.

"They expected this." The younger man played with a bright yellow plastic lighter. "Congenital heart defect, he didn't have a donor."

I stepped closer, tripping over a granite tombstone and landing limply on the ground.

A glass bottle full of cheap liquor shattered on impact with the hard ground. Both men looked at me, shocked.

"Decent people die..............and such a drunk.............." The older man practically hissed, spitting eloquently on the ground.

I don't know what came over me then; maybe I already knew. I practically stumbled into

the chapel, past rows of mourners too surprised to react. I reached the open lid of the coffin..............and there he was, in an elegant black suit, with his hair slicked back, a layer of light powder on his face....cold, stiff, and dead..............................

On the sixth day, a series of doorbells began, followed by pounding with fists. On the tenth, a police car pulled up to the building. I could hear my neighbor's clearly hysterical voice through the door.

"Do something, damn it, the stench is unbearable!!!

" "But, dear lady, I can't....we don't have a warrant."

On the fourteenth day, they broke down the door with a crowbar. Four policemen in dark blue

uniforms burst into the apartment. The first one, who entered the bedroom, almost fell out, dropping his own vomit in the hallway. The senior officer, after opening the door a crack, froze, and with shaking hands, raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth.

"Central...Central!!!" His voice trembled. "Send the investigation team here....QUICKLY...!!!

They took him away from me.............................. and once again I had nothing.................... only pain and

shame..............................

"There is no art without the fear of life

or the fear of death."