Ловушка для Мыслеформы. A Trap for a Thought-Form. Премия им. М. Булгакова / M. Bulgakov Award (Билингва: Rus/Eng)

»

I glanced at my watch – «Almost midnight!» – but I wasn’t alone in the restaurant. However, it was always calm there, and I’d never got afraid to return home late. Or rather, to the house where I used to live in summer.

«Okay. And coffee from me. Want, my girl?»

I didn’t scold Pasha for addressing me as «his girl», and I left one euro for tea. How many years had I been coming there? And always, with the exception of joint evenings with Dimitra, my friend, a local resident, I dined at that restaurant.

***

Gloves… the black ones…

«Where did they come from?»

The Guardian of the Portal recorded their appearance in his diary. He loved numbers, dates. They were symbols. As well as the gloves.

The Guardian sighed, carefully took the ladies’ gloves in one hand and the antique lantern in the other, left the Portal for the room, and then descended into the Dungeon to hide his find in the gloomy dressing table of the pantry.

«Has she come back?»

***

A year before

Some boxes of shoes… I opened them one by one and took out three pairs of brand-new orange sandals.

A man approached me. I could clearly see his figure, but his face was foggy… I embraced the stranger and… I woke up.

«A man with a small belly appeared in my dream last night…»

«I’m losing weight! Review the dream! Probably he is already without a belly!»

«When are you coming back?»

«All flights are cancelled! The borders are closed! I’ve got tickets for August, but I’m not sure.

Thank God I’m alive and okay…»

«How long have you believed in God?» I thought sarcastically and involuntarily remembered Ray, and then, for some reason, Roman. So stealthily the Autumn used to creep up on me and, as usual, caused bouts of nostalgia.

***

«Where does Your Majesty wish to stroll?» asked the King of Swords.

Like all «Kings», he was married, as for the suit of «Swords», he was a military man, and for some reason the military men were fond of me.

Sometimes he walked me culturally in the city.

«Take me to the Mansion,» I answered suddenly.

«Maybe it’s better…»

«To the Mansion!» I kept insisting.

The rain was mixed with the evening mist. We turned into the courtyard, and I was ready to open the desired Door to my left, but the King of Swords didn’t allow me that.

«It’s the wrong door. You need the Right one.