Topics

1

Community Stories / Untitled

« on: June 26, 2012, 03:41:45 AM »

This one is a bit sentimental, but I really missed my friend 



Trying to get warm again, I was enjoying the hottest cup of coffee they could possibly offer at this place. I could actually feel this Americano merge with my blood. Preparing to spend some time watching Them carefully I took off my golden scarf. I put it on the table and recollected subconsciously the reason I had bought it. "Have you read Le Petit Prince? He had a scarf of this colour" said He. For several minutes I couldn't take my eyes off of it, staring at the thing blankly. I looked away with the effort. The darkness outside was already oppressing and this fact deprived me of any desire to go out. I felt extremely comfortable here and now sitting next to the window, peering into the blurry silhouettes of people outside, sipping my coffee. He said those who took a delight in the taste of coffee enjoyed sex. Now that I came to think of it I strongly believed in that though I still couldn’t see the connection between the two. Nevertheless, He was right.
   He had left for Canada a couple of weeks ago so it was not for nothing that He had collected so many lucky tickets – I wished I could go. I had just a few reasons to long for this country and on the face of it they were quite ridiculous. Canada meant a comfortable place to live in, a nice flag, French with a strange accent and Nickelback, the best rock-band ever. Not that much, huh? However even those points were reasonable enough to make me name this country every time I was asked about my “destinations préférées”. The news of His departure was quite predictable but I certainly hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Thus we had a fortnight and, fortunately, it turned out to be sufficient for me to find new ways of living. I learned a lot from Him.
   I looked out of the window and caught sight of Them. There were plenty of Them that day. They were spinning round and round, taking Their time. They were never in that much of a hurry. I’d been watching Them for quite a long time already, knew all Their habits and could tell what They were doing any moment if asked. They were so different and so unique that looking at Them I felt a kind of a poacher murdering Them with my indiscreet stare. They were certainly not aware of my surveillance of Them.
   He had taught me how to approach Them not quite knowing about it Himself. He had turned my slightest interest in Them into a passionate and obsessive idea. I had used to live ignoring Them. But for Him it would still be like this. Now I couldn’t give it up even if I wanted to. I had changed. Things could never be the same again and it was the main reason that kept me here gazing at Them, studying Them, following Them with my eyes.
   Having glanced at the watch I put an end to my Americano in one last sweetest gulp, stood up, twisted the golden scarf round my neck the way He did it and went out. I breathed in deeply feeling Their smell. The smell of snowflakes.

2

Community Stories / Spyglass

« on: June 25, 2012, 09:53:42 AM »

The chair staggered but, obviously, having read my thoughts on this matter, settled down and restored the balance. Clinging to the shelves and taking risks of getting hit on the head with a box of cassettes apt to fall down, I descended at last from heaven of my wardrobe to earth paved with linoleum. With the grace of a ballerina-suffering-from-radiculitis I stepped over hundreds of shabby books scattered all over the carpet in a hurry. Until now they had been crowding in dense rows on the upper shelves of the wardrobe, but in obedience to my momentary desire to tidy up the room at least once in a hundred years they found themselves on the floor, instantly giving the furnishings impressive and even intelligent appearance. As if some proud Gulliver I jumped over the whole of Paris which was so different for Dumas and Belyaev. Significantly cutting the air flows I rushed to the table, clutching a wonderful finding.
I had been looking for it for several years already. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that I had wanted to find it for several years but a single glance at my littery wardrobe was enough to drown out my desire for a few months ahead. And here it was, in a case that looked like a thermos bottle; it was folding, cool and heavy, with a considerable layer of dust covering all those billions of lenses to which there was no access; there were plenty of parts falling off so that you needed to hold them with all the muscles of your eye; - nevertheless, this glass was finally brought to daylight.
Having waited for the night impatiently, having studied the map of the Moon found in the Internet and having already settled down in my thoughts somewhere between the Gulf of Dew and the Sea of Serenity, I equipped myself with the glass and pulled the curtain. Uhuh. Naïve moron... The windows of my room overlooked the wrong side. So much for the Moon and the Bay of Rainbows and the Sea of Tranquility and, personally for me, the Ocean of Idiocy. All you could see from here was the yard, the swings and a house across the street. Having rapped out a proper oath, I sighed hopelessly. But it wasn’t for nothing that I had started an expedition to the window, was it?
I directed the glass to a nearby house. C’mon! Are you kidding me? Exactly the day when I was armed and extremely dangerous all the residents of this typical house on the outskirts of the “Chav” District had decided to withdraw into their bedchamber and fall asleep! Only the windows of the communal hallway were lit, all the rest was a picture of appeasement. All right. I tuned the sharpness so that I could see the tiniest cracks in the steps of the hallway through those goddamn windows.
Silence. The light was steady, nothing was breaking into it. The doors were standing frozen on the landings. Blackish peepholes were staring out of the doors. Probably right now there was somebody behind one of these peepholes peering intensely. Probably somebody behind one of these doors was lurking in the darkness feeling his own heart beating desperately. Probably there was emptiness behind one of these doors. Probably physical one. Probably spiritual one. Another couple of minutes like this, I suspected, would drive me mad from tension. I felt unutterably eerie. What if I see something wrong, something I shouldn’t see? It was an ordinary piffle taken from horror films but I recoiled from the window and drew the curtain back. Pretend to be content with what I’ve got? Thanks, but I’d rather find a way to look at the Moon.

3

Introduce Yourself / A hello from Russia=)

« on: June 25, 2012, 07:17:12 AM »

Hi there! I love playing Bully and I noticed u've got a pretty friendly atmosphere, guys, so here I am=) I'm Yana, but u can call me Jane=)