Читать бесплатно онлайн книгу автора  Dead end

Vlad Vas

Contents

1. Dead end
2. Introduction
3. 1. Bridge
4. 2. Acquaintance
5. 3. First loss
6. 4. School
7. 5. After the second loss
8. 6. New life
9. 7. Love at first sight
10. 8. First date
11. 9. Continuation. Second date
12. 10. Wedding
13. 11. Family
14. 12. The calm before the storm
15. 13. The call
16. 14. Digesting reality
17. 15. Farewell
18. 16. Awaiting
19. 17. Judgement day
20. 18. Under convoy
21. 19. Photography
22. 20. cell
23. 21.Rehabilitation
24. 22 The Letter
25. 22 The Letter
26. 23. Freedom
27. 24. Bridge
28. Epilogue

Breath in is a drop of life. Breath out is a particle of death.

There is nothing between them except for the numerious scenarios and options to choose, and that choice you have to make every moment.

Any result received is a kind of examination taken in the process of studying the subject, which is viewed through the one’s in the lens of consciousness, and a causal link between the created and the tidal wave of the situation.

Life suggest its own options for death, and the death confirms the choice once it is taken.

In loving memory of my grandmother Maria.

Introduction

Life regularly brings us so much of unexpected, and the most of it is unpleasant, and sometimes really terrifying, taking away all our strength and breaking us. And then, when we appear in an extremely desperate situation and suppose that it just could not been worse, we have take much harder trials and tests. Only when having lost everything, we start understanding and being aware of the real values of life, of what is significant and what only lasts for a certain time period.

This story, so sad, that it can be even called a tragic story, is about one ordinary young man that does not differ from us in any way. He could hardly be noticed in the crowd due to his extraordinary appearance. There are thousands, or even millions of people like him.

But if you only glimpsed on what’s happening inside his soul, his consciousness, then, for sure, you would not remain indifferent. He constantly faces the difficulties that cut ground from under his feet, the grave losses, but it is not because of usual human absent-mindedness, but because of the tests and trials waiting for him: the death of the dearest, unjust accusations, prison, loss of his belongings and many other backblows of fortune that can bring any person to insanity, despair and, perhaps, even to the unwise disposal of their physical body, life…

What have happened with him and how he will finally act — will agree with the situation or take everything under his control and will leave all the grief aside, or maybe he will become so faint, that suicide will turn out to be the only reply to all the questions of him?

This will be told in details and in order while you turn the pages of this book.

1. Bridge

Night, November, and the weather there corresponds to the season — small drops of never-ending rain fall from the canopy of heaven, the air temperature is still barely above zero, the roads are wet and slippery, a little bit yellow from the sadly street lights, and the bright colors of the mighty city glyph far away.

“What a high bridge…” said the young man, slightly raising his voice from excitement and amazement, stepping over the fence separating the sidewalk from the roadway with the car parked next to it.

Carelessly stepping into the puddles, paying no special attention to them, he approached the railing, blocking his path into the cold stream of water from the procellous river, about twenty-five meters below. A fall from such a height if doesn’t kill right away, it will surely make a cripple of someone, and this will make self-rescue very difficult, taking into account the temperature of the water and the stream current. Even for a professional swimmer athlete, this is an almost impossible test with the less than minimum chance of survival.

The man about whom the story began, belonged to a middle-aged people, whose face is hard to notice, to make out, even with a great difficulty, only his silhouette and dark short hair were provided. He was of medium height, athletic build. Raising the collar of a black short coat, the central figure of the story was squinting from the rain, caught in the wind, flying straight to his face and running down his cheeks. Although it did bring him some discomfort, it didn’t disturb or worry too much. Inside him, and in this whole situation, there was some mystery, a certain dolor, sadness, and a huge bunch of lean questions.

“And what a beautiful view opens from here… A wonderful place to part with the world and life…”

2. Acquaintance

But first, let’s get acquainted. Let me introduce myself: my name is Harry. For thirty-six years I have been living on this beautiful Mother Earth, and this is a constant soul searching, a searching for answers to daily questions that arise.

My life was not simple, sweet and facile, I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth, rather with a wooden one, and then on my forehead. But my life was very colorful, vibrant, rich, it repeatedly threw me into the very abyss, but still did not allow me to be bogged down to the end, as if mocking me or trying to teach something new: worldview, feelings, relationships, understanding, values, and etc. There were many ups and downs in it, happiness always wandered somewhere nearby, but very often avoided me, I could hardly manage to catch hold of it, like a kitten running after a sunbeam.

Perhaps it’s better to start everything from the very beginning and we will move consistently, I will try not to miss anything, and also to tell what exactly made me come here.

So, my family was ordinary, I would even say, that it was the average family. In general, everything was as it should be, at least so it seemed to me at that time. Mother drank regularly; I have no brothers and sisters. I never saw my father, and if I did, then, probably, at such a small age that I did not even remember.

Mom, on the contrary, I was humbled to see every single day. Very often I would like not to see her, at least drunk, but I was left without this happiness. As they say, we do not choose parents, but I still assume that they are chosen for us somewhere above even before our conception. It is determined with precision when and into which family we must get in order to complete the certain tasks assigned by the Lord to gain the power of the soul encased in the locked chest.

I think, they send us with definite goals, either to improve the family we fall into, or not to spoil yourself and with all the terrifying things around not to come apart, but, on the contrary, to become stronger, better and kinder. I think so now, but then nobody explained it to me, there were no such assistants, at least not in my locality, therefore it was very often difficult and painful, because I had to learn via trial and error.

I did not have childhood as such. I did not go for a walk to the park, to the sea, to the zoo with my parents; I did not visit attraction, of course. I did not even attend kindergarten. I played at home with empty bottles and with watchdog named Jack the Ripper — the best childhood friend. Our main game was to find a safe place, so that our mother’s drinking buddies wouldn’t beat us, and the search for something to eat. The place where we lived, was hard to call home, so unhygienic with anti-human conditions there were. But it turns out that any member of the human race can adapt and get used to everything, even sleep on old things instead of a bed or at least a mattress, walk barefoot on such a sticky floor, that with great effort the legs come off, breathe the drunk waste and stink from rotten food and garbage, eat from dirty dishes, if you ever managed to find food. We used a hole in the floor as a toilet, and I heard about the existence of a bath only in fairy tales. But in what fairy tales? Just heard.

3. First loss

When I was six years old, my beloved mother died. Unfortunately, she never was able to stop drinking, and maybe she did not want to, I could never get an answer to this question.

Jack also died just a few months before my mother’s death, was kicked by some drunkard, which was enough in my environment, or rather, in the environment of my mother.

So, the seriousness of mother’s absence was unbearable, such as she may be, she still remained my only family and beloved person, even though she never gave me neither love, nor tenderness, nor attention, but only pushed me away at any convenient occasion. And also I was terribly missing my faithful dog, which had left irretrievably to the place where they did not return from, they were my family.

Initially, I was sent to an orphanage, but, fortunately, I didn’t have to stay there for long, as my grandmother was found later — my mother’s mother, who became my guardian, took me to her place and helped me to survive the pain of loneliness and the grief of loss.

This is rather large aged woman, with dark hair, a wide smile and bright sea-green eyes, which sparkled and radiated genuine joy and care, prepossessed so much and even tampered with her kindness, as she greeted me with strong, friendly arms. From the first seconds of our meeting, it became clear to me that I could trust her.

Living conditions in her apartment were much more attractive and satisfactory, and compared to where I lived before, I can easily call them royal chambers. I even had my own room. Some old things, clothes and toys were given to us by the neighbors, so I always had something to wear and what to do at any time. I even ate every day for three times, and sometimes it happened, that grandmother spoiled me with sweets. I brightened up and became happier every new moment as possible.

But, unfortunately, my grandmother was a middle-aged, and also an invalid, often having problems with her legs, which refused from time to time because of a serious spinal injury in early childhood, therefore she moved with great difficulty, so she did not work, and respectively, had little money: her pension and my child allowance, but it was practically enough for the living essentials. Sometimes she sewed and sold something, which resulted in a small additional income, which many times saved us from unpleasant situations. Because of her difficulties, there was less time left for me, so she played with me so rarely, paid little attention, but it was quite enough, because before I was receiving much less. So it’s a sin to complain, so I was always content and rejoiced at every minute spent with her, until it was time to go to school.

4. School

From the very first days I met child aggression towards myself, connected with my appearance: worn, big or, on the contrary, small clothes, slightly disheveled hair. In addition, I was rather curious, childishly naive, always carefully considered everyone who did not like others, and at the same time was very shy. When I was asked something, I could not answer, since I had little experience in communication. Because of this, I suffered, because I often remained silent and could not correctly state any thought, point of view, or simply to say a couple of words.