Прохор Озорнин - On the Wings of Hope - Prose

“We will remind you of that through the writer. We remind someone through circumstances and someone through dreams. Some are already beyond help and reminding.”

“Seems clear enough.”

“Fine. Then please try on your personal watch.”

With these words, the Keeper put away from his glowing attire the small watch on a thin strap and stretched them to the guest.

“Sixty earth years, as we have agreed – if circumstances don’t change. Shortly before the end of your term, you will be able to feel how these watches start ringing and vibrating – that means that your time is running out. Don’t be afraid, put them on your hand.”

“In such moments you start feeling yourself like a time bomb,” the guest admitted confusedly.

“You should better ‘blow up’, in a good sense, the earth world of materialistic scientific ideas.”

“It’s done,” reported the guest, having clasped a strap of watches on his hand.

“I remind you the circumstances of your birth – poor family, kind mother, cruel father, sick younger brother and a loving elder sister.”

“Now I should manage not to forget all that when I am only one-two years old, and all I can really do is to piss under my shoes!” the guest burst out laughing on his move, walking to the opening portal.

“Time starts ticking,” replied the Keeper, observing how the revealed in the hall portal embraces the soul of future earth inhabitant. “It never ceases to go,” he added.

Tic. Tac.

The clocks as if answered to his thoughts.

They had no power only over immortal ones.

15.10.2017

You say, that God does not exist. And I tell you, that He exists no more exclusively for you.

You grieve, that He has forsaken your world long ago. And I reply, that it was you, who barricaded from Him in the smallest world of your own, which has nothing in common with the greater one.

You complain that life is cruel and unfair. And I recommend you to look at yourselves in a mirror in the upcoming morning.

You grieve of the dead ones as those lost to this world forever. And I am starting to assert that they were lost exclusively for the vanity of yours.

You curse your work, thinking of it as a routine which takes away the time of your life aimlessly. And I ask you, what will your life look like without your work on yourselves?

You despise your enemies. And I know, how they all become the stones of non-hindrance on the road of life, once you have finally grown the wings for flight.

You all thirst for love, but, finding none, are ready to jump from the rocks of broken hopes into abysses of hatred. And I desire to know the true value of such feelings.

You state that life makes no sense and holds no purpose. And I will whisper to you, that you did not even try to search.

You declare the impossibility of possible and deny incredibility of the obvious. And I see, how previously impossible becomes obvious, and incredible becomes possible.

You guess that life is inconceivable without movement. And I ask you not to confuse impulses of the soul to petty vanity.

You worry that you do not understand others. And I am interested in questioning you – “Do you even know yourselves?”

You pursue life's success in hopes to get it in time, and are ready to walk over others heads. And I tell you that you are always late, for you have chosen the wrong road.

You feel proud that belief is not necessary to the learned. And I ask you whether you could learn, not believing in the possibility of the learned?

You speak of generosity and share pieces of stale bread, continuing to consume red caviar over both your cheeks. You speak of goodwill and draw a knife behind each other's backs. You speak of wisdom and share thousand and one way to deceive those close to you. And I dare to believe that you will open your eyes one day and stop confusing darkness to the light.

You question, how I can state what I do not know. And I advise you to pour out ashes from bags of your knowledge.

You tell me that I repeat myself and cross spots, passed previously, again. And I will simply ask you to look up.

You will tell that it is banal. And I will continue hoping.

You will tell that you have heard and passed all this before. And with a grief in my eyes, I will watch you passing by once again…

17.09.2010

Rat-beauty rules over nasty women

“Goy-hey, over here! Hello-hello, slave of mine!” sang the Glamour, having suddenly jumped out from around the corner, and widely stretched his hands in the desire to seize his new victim as strongly and long as ever possible. “Hello, Nasty Woman!” he added in plain terms. “How are you doing?”

“Like that of a boy!” Nasty Woman sniffed and wrinkled her lips. “Always do you come with such silly jokes of yours. And I, by the way, is a woman secular, elegant, modern. And very much…”

“Glamorous!” joined her game Glamour.

“Well, certainly,” Nasty Woman was embarrassed. “Glamour rules over the world!”

“Well, precisely!” confirmed Glamour. “I won't fail to govern ones such as you. I am mighty and annoying, like sunray through skies I'm going!”

“Listen, Glamour,” Nasty Woman changed the topic suddenly, “how do you think – does this dress with that cut out from behind spot suits me well?” and Nasty Woman turned to Glamour with her back in anticipation of disgraceful assessment.

“Does it? Oh, certainly!” Glamour whispered with delight after a second of confusion. “Nasty Women wear all, yet forget of future toll!” – he added.

“I felt it with my tits that you would be satisfied,” guessed Nasty Woman. “That's a very modern and extremely creative dress, by the way, costing loads of money!”

“Got it from your new sponsor?” guessed Glamour. “And what has become with your previous lover?”

“Fuck him!” spat Nasty Woman, but smiled. “I have no need for such cheapskates as my former one. No reason to lend him my body any longer!”

“Body, yes… a good trade thing,” agreed Glamour. “Valuable, for the time being. And who else if not I can teach you, nasty women, how to trade it in successfully?” Glamour winked. “Was you smart enough to suit a cottage from your former one? All in all, you have been living together with him for half a year – almost your entire invaluable life you have already devoted to him!”

“It's in the process,” Nasty Woman answered uninvolved. “We are now preparing necessary documents with my lawyer.”

“Oh, so he is your new admirer?” Glamour burst out laughing. “Well, I got it, I got it. Bright and fast you are growing, good fellow, I approve! Fuck with this and fuck with that if he’s rich and not too fat.”

“I will fuck with him as well, pay for me he always shall!” Nasty Woman picked up a rhyme suddenly. “And how are these mascara and fondant for you?” she changed topic once again.

“Very sexually!” approved Glamour. “With such lips, you can kiss anyone to death,” he added, “approvingly examining Nasty Woman from feet to head and nodding. – And finally, I will join the feast, – he whispered slightly more silently.

“What-what?” Nasty Woman didn't get it.

“Don't distract yourself!” Glamour interrupted her. “Better show me your legs and hands with a pedicure for appreciation! That's good,” he added after a short pause. “You can scratch eyes of all competitors if you desire!”

“All women are like cats!” Nasty Woman readily agreed.

“Yes, but not all of them are stinkers,” wearily confirmed Glamour.

“What were you talking about?” Nasty Woman once again didn't understand her interlocutor.