Don't look in mirrors. Edge of miracles

- Whose today turn to spill? – suddenly the question escaped at me.
- Washing, - quietly and measuredly he answered, having significantly added – Only …
- Just?.
- There, where we will go … This special place … Promise me two things...
- Well, - I easily agreed.
- The first. Never and under no circumstances release my hand. The second. Don't listen, don't trust and under no circumstances don't follow entities whatever they "benevolent" seemed to you. – Already I spilled a glass it.
- Well, - I agreed again, on a habit leaving an undershirt near a huge pool. – It can be dangerous?
- Yes. But at the correct actions at us it will turn out to catch two-three of very appetizing fields.
Having very firmly squeezed his hand this time I didn't close eyes – the curiosity got the best of fear. First transparent waves completely absorbed me and the picture immediately was replaced, changing over and over again as at already familiar rewind of a videotape forward. Videla I the rusted fencing with an inscription that the entrance is prohibited, behind it the old, decayed, abandoned building on height eleven floors with long corridors, the obpsharpanny and ornamented walls. The improvised rewind stopped near the wall revetted with a white rectangular tile.
"This hospital – the edge of miracles, came into it and there disappeared!!!" - red letters of an inscription, and lower said in black color:
"It precisely".
The first time goosebumps of fear ran on a back when I noticed the shadows sliding on walls, and except us there was nobody. The second time when from that long corridors of steel empty by sight reaches sounds: steps, rustles, gnashes, shouts, groans, entreaties about the help, monotonous ritual mantras, an echo of the stray dogs whining before death.
- Where we, Oleg? – I whispered for fear.
- Be afraid of nothing. Dee, - it pulled me for itself(himself).
Several minutes later from depth of one of corridors the inhuman voice which isn't expressing what metal intonations was distributed:
- Mister, at me didn't leave to hold him. – Immediately in air the anthropomorphous figure of speaking was also slowly shown.
It I was translucent almost through from falling through the glasses of a moonlight which are used up by mysterious runes, stanovyashchy gray passing through his intangible body. Standing at edge of an impressive hole in a floor it slowly receded back, leaving viscous gray marks.
- How could you miss the fresh field? – mixing a regret with rage Oleg approached this being shivering with fear – by sight a hybrid of the person and a shadow. – On your favor I and my companion we will remain hungry …
- But, Mister …
- On knees! – contemptuously Oleg threatened it with a finger, literally stepping on air on the place of a hole in a floor.
Meanwhile the being obediently kneeled.
- Never miss my production, - it spread slender long fingers on the head of a being, slowly, a finger behind a finger getting into a cranium. Contents in his right hand almost completely reminded a human brain except for unnatural dullness and unstable jellylike consistence. Having thrown back the head back it sent jelly to a mouth: cerebellum, occipital beats, temporal, parietal, frontal. Was possible even to consider the subcrustal structures of a brain eaten by it.
Not in forces to observe further I closed eyes, closed ears from heart-breaking mix of inhuman shout with a metal gnash. And everything abated, the shrouding waves of warm air installed in me tranquility, and its voice – confidence.
- Sorry, you shouldn't have done it at you. Simply … Each slave without due chronic punishment begins to think himself the owner.
- What, don't apologize. – Oh, what was delightful – to nestle on his strong, inspiring protection and confidence body.
- Now the whole week of Hunger … - there were we along streets, narrow and cozy from absolute lifelessness.
- About! Look, sea foam frames the gulf …
- Beautifully, Dee. I wasn't here earlier.
- Хм, - I was afraid to seem silly. – And it seemed to me, you here already know each grain of sand.
- Did you so understand nothing?!
- Didn't understand that?
- These empty houses, streets, the seas, oceans, trees, footpaths, a breeze, foam, the sky, walls, a voice, sensual pleasure – all this prison, infinite prison, endlessly and there won't be enough edge which to bypass and billions of years also I in it the prisoner.
- Prison? – it is dumbfounded I asked again having stopped. – But from here to leave. That is there is no wish to wake up. Here it is fine.
- Do you know what only similarity at me to people? You are people – you live in prison of reality: one it is pleasant, another isn't present, but none of you plainly can come to light, break open a door. When I asked it about a body, about own mortal physical and surely male body, being in which I would play in a sandbox being a little boy, would experience joy of an infancy, childhood, growing and withering. I would consider the growing old body, the wrinkles over the years appearing, a gray hair in a mirror and eventually would experience all charm of dying: as the rhythm of my heart as in vessels the tone falls slows down, and later under sounds of funeral orchestra the horse dragging the cart loaded with my open coffin would stop near a freshly exposed grave – a long-awaited feast for the colonies of worms living in its subsoil, only and the boards of my coffin waiting for rotting to leave only bones the storing my genetic code, my own genetic code. The father only laughed to my desire to find a mortal body and as a sign of falsehood of an enlightenment ground here. Only some sleeping as Conductors in a material world occasionally can pull out me for a while from here …
I woke up, hid a face in a pillow and began to cry.