Stories about death

It happened to everyone to wake up among night from the nightmare born by Death. Everyone is afraid to face Death of an eye in eyes. It is not groundless. Death phantoms are live. They - generations of our conscience, our fear, our dreams. Ourselves produce them and we multiply … and then we try to run. To what? It is necessary to learn to live with thought on Death - it has hidden in each of us.

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Martha with Lena sat on kitchen at a round glass table, and drank wine. Red. Taste at it was little bit tart and hardly more sweet, than it would be desirable. But it only first so seemed. And all has then mixed up in a stomach – wine, cheese, fruit and became all the same.

-Flax, well after all you the clever woman. – Martha steadfastly also it is sad faced the girlfriend. – well to you occurs? Like fifth tens for a long time would exchange, and all you dream, you rush about, you suffer, you exhaust yourself in depression. When lives to rejoice will begin?

I do not know. – Lenka has sighed so hard, that, appear, the soul will just about be pulled out outside. But is not present – has managed. – earlier and most it seemed to me, that all these searches, melancholy, weariness from a life and apathy — no more, than the tightened awkward age.

Martha has meanly giggled.

-Yes it is fine to you, — the mistress was inflated – itself I know, that the diagnosis overdue. And it is a pity! So though it was possible to hope, that all this will pass sooner or later.

You-know, — Martha has in a pointed manner twisted lips, — to me you even to console it would not be desirable. You in all are guilty: you do not get out anywhere with anybody plainly you do not communicate. There was at you a para-three of friends – and those were dispersed. You sit that houses at job and it is silent all you hate. First of all —.

You understand, what's the matter, — Lena has put elbows on a table and has propped up a head which became suddenly painfully heavy, — to me all it is improbably boring. Melancholy and alone – that with colleagues, that with the husband, that with its friends, that with my were znakomtsami. Who has no value, nearby – the old friend or the neighbour in an armchair in the plane: I do not feel them. Everything, that is felt in the presence of people is an emptiness, a precipice, a chasm and a headache to a nausea. In general, and without all of them the same. What for the people once again the wildness to injure? To me than one is quieter.

-Well and the silly woman you, Lenka. – Martha has sighed and has tenderly put the palm over a hand of the girlfriend. – that, and with me to you as is bad?

No, that you, — not reflecting, have told lies Lenka – with you all in a full order. Even it is better. Only you also understand me. – she again with an anguish has sighed.

-Yes good to tell fairy tales. – Martha has laughed, has cleaned a hand and has seized a glass. – allow to drink further better. And that, despite your attempts something to me to explain, without half-litres line you will not disassemble.

Lena has freshened wine in glasses and has hardly lifted, seemed suddenly extremely heavy.

-For what? – Martha has playfully winked. – for us with you?

-Here still, — Lena has sniffed – only it did not suffice! We drink for a Spring. I do not know as you, and I already simply a skin feel it. Or a nose. It is difficult to tell. In a word, for it. Perhaps though it yes will change something.

Girlfriends have drunk. Lena has again filled glasses and has cleaned an empty bottle from a table.

-It that, all? – Martha has lifted a bottle from a floor and has glanced in a neck. – and I still absolutely even sober.

-Listen, well not be you the child. — Lenka has burst out laughing: so adult, magnificent enough, the lady who has got suddenly manners of a Winnie-the-Pooh comically looked. – That-that, and this good in the house as much as necessary.

-Then an order. – Martha has returned a bottle under a table and, having found again quite serious look, has looked at the girlfriend. — as about revelations?

About what? I to you and so all as is spread. To tell the truth, it is more to anybody than such delirium you will not tell: all houses will think still, that at the aunt not. Well, either the roof has gone. Or cockroaches in a head were got. Or as there still …

-Faugh, Lena, — Martha has frowned – stop to be expressed as the carrier. Though hardly poor carriers operated with such slovenly word-combinations. I not how you in a society feel yourself. About it precisely once again it is better to you to keep silent. I ask — that occurs? You, it is necessary to tell, today is worse, than usually.

What means – worse? – Lena was surprised.

-Yes you feel yourself worse. Is ill, something can? Perhaps a liver again? Listen, you would not drink then, and?

-At what here a liver?! – has out of place become angry Lenka. – I Spat on it. You understand, to me it is absolutely-absolutely melancholy recently. Earlier physical presence of people though somehow warmed. And feelings were. Let only to one person. Let it was always far. But were. And now – it is empty absolutely. As in a crypt.

-Poor your husband. – Martha it is upset looked at Lena. – after all not the bad muzhik: not the drunkard, not the ladies' man, not the lost. And you to it suit such life – just right to be hung up. And as soon as he with you lives?

-Yes let does not live. – it is angry she has snapped. – I about it speak for a long time to it. So is not present – has become attached as bannyj sheet.

The-person to you is betrayed, — Martha – so in it bad has seriously told? By such relation are not scattered.

It-is betrayed to me? – Lenka has writhed an awful grimace – Yes not to me, and to all volume, that I for these devil's years of home life in the house have brought. And to that else to a smog to extract. Till an old age. Martha, you though understand. Me have started up, as a pig on sausage, on decisions of household problems: apartment, the car, money. And me on it to spit!

-Yes good to say lies. Does not happen so. – Martha it is bad has blinked the eyes.

-Happens! – Lenka has flashed suddenly for a rage. And then has unexpectedly sobbed. – I to give birth to the child wanted. And it – «is not present, give that at first, then is». All. Late now. Was not in time. For nothing time has left. In vain. Also you know – it has passed to conspiratorial whisper — I feel, how I merge with it in one, I see myself in him as in a mirror: it the loser, and I the unlucky person, it untalented and I there, it – the grey mouse and I still seree.

-Stand you, will suffice already. – Martha has frowned and even has turned away – has found to itself of a whipping boy. Allow now all sins of the world to bring down on the near, yes?

-Yes is not present, certainly. – Lenka has gone out, — on anybody I will bring down nothing. Except itself. Itself in all it is guilty. Interestingly here only as it at other women happens, that the man to you both a support, and support, and confidence of tomorrow. Or it only fairy tales such napridumyvali. And actually there is nothing.

Lenka jerky has lifted the glass and has drained it.

Martha any more was not. Elena Aleksandrovna at first was surprised. Then, as always, has looked under a table, behind cases, was not too lazy to leave and look at all from kitchen behind a door. «Here rubbish! – she has told aloud and has kicked a chair from a rage – Again was gone. Only you will get to talking from it – at once evaporates, the swine. Too to hear wants nothing!» She has painfully sighed. Has returned into place, has bitterly grinned to itself. Has cleared the table ware, an empty glass, has put a plate with cheese in a refrigerator. Has gone to a bathroom, hardly reeling. In a head hooted, and it was good: not so the habitual headache was sharply felt. 

It has switched on light over a mirror and began to peer at the person. Already with appreciable deep wrinkles on a forehead, already with dark blue bags under eyes that in the afternoon, that at night, already with the colourless dried up lips. There is nothing to hope more. There is nobody to live. It was bent half-and-half and has failed in painful sensation of loneliness which gnawed, ate and tore apart it from within.    

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