Nightwill

 - Well, a buddy, how are you? - Yes, like in a fairy tale. The farther, the worse. We started every meeting with this dialogue. Still, Max Creepy Optimist. A little tight, too kind, in childhood he walked at Botany. He was not a special coward, but conflicts avoided. Too soft. Not at all from this world, but there is a good feature in it - my friend never dips. I poured tea, and here Maxim looked thoughtfully on my mug, through pain smiling with my thoughts. "You know," he spoke, "but it all started with tea." - What exactly? "Okay, let's go in order," he settled on the pillows more comfortably, he coughed himself, drove out and led his unhurried story. Remember, when I worked, after the change he was constantly sleeping like a grounding? He came on that day tired, zadolban. Even a new apartment in which the third day drove, rally the parent, did not please. I just wanted to sleep. Protect until midnight. After a heavy shift, I often happened. Even the door did not always close. You sometimes came, swore. I woke up from the sound of steps. Eyes to open laziness, thought you came, I say: "Put the teapot, please." In response, female voice: "Good." The brain is not fully woken up, so the presence of a woman did not cause shock. I finally woke up, I went to the kitchen. There, Irudoval with sandwiches unfamiliar a very cute girl. But beauty in this case is not important. How did she get here at all? - Who are you? - The only thing that I broke out. - I live here. "Wait, I live here," I almost took possession of himself. - This apartment bought three weeks ago, so I have to disappoint you. - A, it is what, - girl sat down, recovering the dress. And only here I got into my eyes what was supposed to be not just alert, but in a stupor. Brown spots on a blue dress and cuts on their hands. No matter how it happened, she continued: - And I think, where is the nervous psychopath? "By the way, the worthless woman," I considered my duty to stand up. - She even sold the apartment at a barn price, and helped with documents. - Clear, - Night Guest nodded. - Like all other owners. - I did not understand ... - Did you look into the documents? Here with the ninety-fifth more than a year no one lives. Since mom sold an apartment. Almost forty days did not pass. - Forty days after which? - No, the phrase "forty days" causes me only one association. Kisel, Cute, borsch. But how are the commemoration related to this strange girl? - From my death. You know, bro, we sometimes joke about the departure to the world of others, but at that moment I was afraid. Yes, what is scared there! I almost put in my pants! I felt like every hairs on my body rises. Watch yourself. Dress in the blood, hands cut, instead of rainbow shells, black spots, as if pupils spread. And then this miracle Yudo states his death. No, the mind, of course, brought the assumption about the madhouse, but here is part of the spinal cord, which is lower than the lower back, aggressively crushed about the opposite. - Listen, you just do not be offended, but you are not in a cemetery, you need to disguise. The girl looked thoughtfully: - Do not believe? - bli-and-in, - fear gave way to irritation. - Imagine, an unknown apartment comes to your apartment, brewing tea, makes sandwiches, by the way, very tasty, - I nodded to the plate, - and declares that he is from the world! "Look," she stretched out her hand, and the knife standing on the other table, stuck in my head. Immediately another hand stretched through the wall and removed the mobile phone from the bedside table. "Everything, everything, enough," I waved my hands, "I believe." And then you still grow apart. Breathing is a little bit. In front of me sat the most real ghost and drinking tea peacefully with me. Or sat. The ghost was sitting, hmm ... - And how will the ghost in the female genus? She shrugged: "I don't know." You can call me Irina. I kissed the cold, slightly tense hand. - Very nice, Maxim. Irina, you are intangible. How do you drink tea? - Silently and with pleasure. I do a lot with pleasure. We drank tea, talked. Irina turned out to be an interesting, pleasant girl. You know, Andryukh, what will I say? Ghosts are very voracious. Especially women. Nudgeon himself. You can eat and not get fat. One bad. The choice of outfits is limited, and people do not appreciate their beauty. For some reason, waking up at night and seeing a steaming girl in a fluttering Savane in front of him, a man instead of making a compliment, starts shouting, runs, wildly rotating his eyes, and baptizes. And Poltergeists even talk with no one with whom. Irina told me about all this. My request to put the kettle introduced it into a stupor. According to the script, I had to open my eyes, run away, and on the other day to file an advertisement for the sale of an apartment. Usually so all the owners and came. But I took the poor ghost all the plans. In the morning I really didn't want it to leave, but the sun shines only alive. Guest promised that in the winter we will see more, I smack me in a cheek and dissolved. In the evening I prepared my company pancakes, covered them with a lid and left a note. I really wanted to see the Irishka even time, but it was necessary to get over before changing. In the morning, the flavors of the kitchen were woken up. All the dishes were washed away, jars were stood on the table with a cutlets and a mustache. Dude, it was so awesome! So we began to live with the ghost of Irina. When I was on shift or slept at night, she hung around the apartment. A real domain with the best smile in the world. I pitch her favorite pancakes, told at night about my life, about work. Three months later, from the moment of our dating, his beloved had a birthday. I wanted to give her new fashionable clothes, jewels, but in time I learned one circumstance. Ira could not wear anything except the dress in which she died, clothes in which she was buried, and White Savan. For your birthday, the day of death and the day of our dating, I bought different goodies, brought flowers. True, the beloved was offended if the bouquet was an odd amount. Say, three roses give only alive. But, honestly, the black humor is the only drawback. Nudody himself: expensive phones, dresses and jewels do not need; prepares perfectly; do not saw; The head does not hurt if you understand what I mean. Yes, yes, sex ghosts are also engaged. And do not ask how. Quote: "Not silent, but with pleasure." From the moment of our dating, a year has passed with a little. Gradually, I learned that in the ninety-fifth year, when I studied in the seventh grade, my beloved, then another twenty-year-old girl, raped scumbags and left in the bushes. Without presting a shame, Irina cut a vein and dipped hands in a bucket with hot water. The end is a bit predictable. She died. Suicides do not accept anyone or in hell, and they hang out to a terrible court in our three dimensions. Someone has enough strength to leave the coffin and live regardless of the body, someone can visit the place of their death at night, but most remains to rot with the corpse. Suicidians themselves, as a rule, weak people, so remain there, underground, unable to overcome physics. The birthday of his beloved. Nothing foreshadowed trouble. We sat in front of the TV, looked at some movie and saw champagne, how suddenly Irina shouted with a wild voice. - What happened? - I looked at the face distorted and knew what to do. - Where does it hurt? - All! All hurts !!! Favorite, help !!! - What happened?! How to help you? - The third sector! Twenty fifth grave! Faster !!! I know that the dead do not sweat. But she suffocated from pain, and Spirin performed on his forehead. The fingers gently pushed the alarm, the steps were knocked before the eyes. After a minute, I rushed to the side of the cemetery to one hundred and fifty. Fortunately, we have one. The watchman jumped into my mats with a mount, ready to reflect any attack. - Father, the third sector, twenty-fifth grave! Quickly !!! "The cemetery is closed at night," the bearded grandfather replied. - Come tomorrow. - Five thousand! Only faster! - Okay, go. Was selected psychos ... Sunwalling in his pocket Borodachy Red Coveur, I took out a bit from the car and we went. The desired grave was seen from afar. It was buried bonfire, and the juvenile freaks were danced. Bratan, you know, my credo - the ability to negotiate, but here I could not stand. I just demolished the first body on my way and I was deeply spit on the fact that this female creature. There are no women among the geeks. They are geeks, and point. I broke my legs with a bony flap for sixteen from the genus. The rest of the three were sensed. A warm-eyed chick pulled the pennies, a healthy accelerat, whitening the chain, approached me, and the skinny-skinned schmuck in the dark hood went with a stake. Here I decided not for a joke. But behind their backs were burning the grave of my beloved. Fir-rods did not regret. The battle joined the sage with a mount. Unnoticed, with a disconnected flashlight, he scratched behind their backs and gadan a hood in his head. My bit went on a long arc, knocking the knife from the hands of the girl, and the fist is a direct strike of the accelerat in the nose. Lucky. The guy has gotten off from one blow. I quickly scattered a fire, Satanists quietly fell. We were saved factor of surprise. To take five - this is possible only in fairy tales. "We will find you, bitch," it woke up. The hoods carried the girls. Bony walked himself. - Zavaritsky five, apartment ninety eight, - My voice was full of threat. - And here I am almost every evening. Nikifor-Petrovich Ask. My grandfather and I were silent with a grave, washed a monument from the soot. - And who are you Irina? - asked Petrovich when we got a monument. What will I answer? You see, I live with a ghost, and it has become hurt. "Negotia," I can't lie. - Ai, not Tryndi. Ira was one in the family. I looked at the old man in a blankly. - I am her uncle. When Irka himself cut the veins, Mashka, my sister, almost crazy. So, grandson, what did you get so late? - Do you have coffee? - We have to tell the truth. For a cup of tea, I told Myikifor's grandfather, everything that happened to us, starting with the purchase of an apartment. "Mm," my interlocutor stroked his beard, "and I think the address is familiar." Listen, "the watchman handed out," you can visit her tomorrow? " - Well, in principle, why not. Only she does not come. - Yes, we still have insomnia. So wait for the visit. I had the idea of thought. - Uncle Nikifor, and went now? Irishki's birthday, I think, will be happy. I will not describe the meeting of my native people. There were also tears and joy after twelve annals. I did not bother them, lay down on the sofa, closed my eyes and began to think. The suicides remaining in the grave feel everything that happens around them. I saw the genuine pain of Irina, saw her suffering, even though she was outside the body. And it became, even being at home, the poor girl feels everything that happens in the grave. Listening to the votes in the kitchen, I grumbled until dawn, and in the morning I spent relatives and continued to think. Leave everything as I can not, but what to do? A pile of cigarette in the ashtray grew, and there was no solution. That day I first started praying. Prayer is the last refuge of desperate people. I stood in the temple on my knees and shouted: "You, being sinless, redeemed the sins of all mankind. I know that the unclean, sinny, but let me take her guilt. Is it really doomed? ". I remembered the biblical plots and shouted. I asked him to give her punishment to me, and this clean soul, guilty of only that I could not stand, pick up to myself. So I spent all the days when I was not on duty. Once I asked Iru, as it belongs to religion, the symbols of faith. I did not tell her that I go to church. It seemed to me that was too personal and shamed. "You know," she was silent, "I avoid the cross, icons, holy water, but not because it hurts or dangerous." No, I'm just ashamed. It's ashamed for my weakness, for refused to give a gift. I am ashamed of my mother, although thanks for led them to Uncle Nikifor. - That is, it is not a flour or an obstacle for you? - No. And what did you hit the religion? "No," I kissed silky hair, but I had existential questions. " I bought a few icons: Savior, Virgin, Nikolai Wonderworker. Do you remember the Chancellor Gi, Bathan? "This is not love, you're not the holy girl in the night." Well, if love is determined by this, then I had the real love. Even love with a capital letter. Every day I called God, asked to remove the curse with my beloved, and I was silence with the answer. At night, my sun was still coming to me. I noticed in every dash of her face a casual pain. And happiness. The pain of grave and happiness is here, with me. Eh, Andryukha, what happiness was filled with the first year and how the heart was poured when I saw the whole depth of the abyss, which Irina plunged. Once, when I slept, and Irishka was performed in the kitchen, the answer came. I dreamed of a huge wasteland. Behind me was the road that was split. One of the paths crumbled away in thousands of lines. The second went through ravines, thorns and thickets of herbs. It was direct and inexorable as a paw flight trajectory. And after him, Irina went to the sky in the radiance. I nodded and confidently stepped on him. And then there was a calm, full of love voice. - You can always refuse. Just ask, everything will stop. And on the anniversary of dating it became bad. Then you know. Cancer. First, the gastric cancer, right there. Doctors only clasily languages. Unique case. For several months, the first stage has grown to third. Now I am struck by everything you can. And when I manage to fall asleep, dream of raw grave, pain and longing. And nasty, dish, filled yes edges angry voice whispers me: "You can always refuse. Well, one word only, crying "no need" and everything will come back. Or do you want to die? ". And I just want Paradise. For her. Like Vysotsky. Putting the pale pink apples, and let her live. There, in paradise. I was silent for a long time, looking at Max. How he changed. At thirty years - a deep old man. Crash face, lip folds, pale yellow leather, like swirl fat. - You do not regret anything? Eyes unexpectedly misfortune. After a second, my friend exhaled: - Never ask me this question. You do not know what the answer will cost or at least thinking. One thought can destroy her. Of course, I did not believe in any other word from the story of a friend, but I took a chicken leg, who was once a powerful hand of the fireman: - Forgive me, brother. Come on, recover. We have talked to the obligatory dispute on the inevitability of death in this case. "I'll die soon" - "Yes, do not drive, we are still on your wedding," and so on, although both understood: the end is soon. Maxim Vershinin, a fireman, my friend, just a good man, died of fifteenth of August two thousand and thirteenth, without having survived three weeks to thirty-two years. Him him quietly, in his circle. Parents died in a fire in a two thousandth year, which influenced the choice of profession. My friend saved from burning buildings dozens of man. And on just four came to spend on the last path: I, an old watchman Nikifor Petrovich and his sister, and daily nurse, hired by me. Forty days coped with the same composition in the apartment of Max. I think he would approve my choice of place. While I was closed for guests, dark came. From a dutched window tree blew. Leaning behind the spoon, I felt a tangible kick under the ass. To say that I was scared, it means not to say anything. It will only understand the one who kicks under the ass in an absolutely empty apartment. - Brother, nothing personal. Your guardian angel requested to convey. Said you know what. Max stood with an unfamiliar to me with a red-haired girl and smiled, as before. In front of me was a strong fireman with a soft character and a good smile. - Meet. Irina, Andrey. Andrei, Irina. I sat down in a chair. Is everything that he told, is it true? And really, his flour turned out to be in vain? - Everything is fine, brother. We were put into paradise. Mom with dad too. I will be acquainted with the bride. Well, you still do not even soon. They dissolved in the air. Stunned, I rubbed the bruised ass: - E, and why was the kick for what? - In response, silence. Ugh, now you guess that I did not do it in this life. xxxx