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К циклу о Дафне (оригинал, потом был использован перевод) |
It was huge, really really huge. And strangely shaped - a quadrangle with bent sides. And a frame of greenish bronze as heavy as the world. But not a single ornament - just pure plain heaviness.
And vast fields of sand, dunes after dunes of dry golden grains.
She stepped into the once all-reflecting glass. So hot. High heels drowining, but can't take shoes off. Too hot, almost scorching air, wobbling surface. Diamond blue skies once high above but closer and closer with every step.
No sense in moving forward, better just drop dead and breathe sand. It so easy, like life. Why do they always fight for everything? Love, money, success, status, lust. He was one of them. Cold and repulsive from the outside, but so much attractive. Could not believe that others thought him to be unpleasant and boring.
Sands, dunes after dunes of time particles, sloshing over the bronze brim. Faces pass before the glass, one by one, interesting, but boring.
Wisper nine ultimate rules under the breath, like rosary. He falls under them. Better not stay with those who have nothing but lust in their minds.
Damn, damn, damn. Time lost for something which was clear from the start. Or not clear, but muddy, slimy, s-s-s-snaky.
Scaled ribbon of death under the feet, so vulnerable, even in those spiky-heeled city shoes. And suddenly anger rises like hot lava. As it was there, 'Slash, stab'. Triangular head pierced through like a rotten apple. Already nine-limbed crustatians gather around struggling flesh. That's that. Das ist das. End. Limbo. Oblivion.
- Madam? Would you like this mirror purchased?
- Er? No, thanks. Some other day.
Новые книги авторов СИ, вышедшие из печати:
О.Болдырева "Крадуш. Чужие души"
М.Николаев "Вторжение на Землю"