linux newsgroup binary reader House number 9 - Read the mystical and fantastic, funny and scary,

linux newsgroup binary reader

You run, you fall, you will again run, but youre already running to the cars and drivers get out of their cars and start to chase you, but you laugh because you know that they will not catch you, you jumped down and running away from them on the road . On the road kartezh wedding and photographer standing in the middle of it, you ran up to him: - You need help man?

You nod to him. And it stops the crowd running after you. You keep going and the truck flies past you, the body which is full of gray guitars made as of the cement. But you do not care about some fucking truck and walking up to his house.

Ive been in this house. I know half the people living in it. With some of even friends. This house, cut through the leaden sky, and he was gray - to match.

Something frightening, he lured. By entering into the entrance, I wondered: indeed, what the hell? What am I doing here?

But I was wondering how it all ends. And I went. In the elevator, she asked me a few coins, and I gave. However, remembering that she told me they already owed. At the entrance to the apartment was her brother is no different from a prisoner, nor looks, nor manners.

We shook hands and I went inside, where once discovered a few friends, and opposed hello. After a few steps I heard the sound of four paws, just painfully uneven to be a dog . . . I got the bulls eye - it was not a dog.

Laya and saliva dripping, running up to me man, his neck collar with metal prongs, under the eyes green bags, and through this mask, I find another.

I could not believe my eyes. A month ago I talked to him and now he runs around like a dog and lick my shoes . . . Perhaps Seth was the nicest man I knew. When I first saw him, he cried while sitting in the bushes, holding the corpse of a little gray mouse. When he saw me, he stopped crying, he looked away, trying to hide the tears, and handed me a hand with them lying in the body.

I reached out to meet their own and not saying a word I picked up the corpse of the mouse in hand. Without exchanging a word together we dug a small hole, and put her body. We walked home together, and when we approached the woods, he said: - Seth. - Im Ed. - A little smile, " I replied. The next day I found him there. At first I did not understand, and stood rooted to the spot.

If I could see myself in the side, it probably would be surprised just as much slack in my jaw, nevertheless, I continued to stand, but he continued to bark and proceed to the impatience of the fact that I had finally poglazhu.

Then I saw his mother, watching Seth from the end of the corridor, stood a few moments she walked towards me and taking me by the hand pravela the living room. She was very nervous, and why not say, and whisper, she leaned to my ear: - Ed, - she looked at me with hope and manipulative self- restraint - he was crazy! I shook my head, not fully aware of the reality of what happened.

She grabbed my head, which I shook so hard, grabbed so that I could not have it, and move, not that shake and started screaming into my ear - He touched! HE Getting started ROOF!

What do not you understand? " - And she began to dig his nails into the skull, and I even felt a trickle of warm blood present in my head, and she continued to scream, not paying attention to what is trying to crush my skull - NOW He considers himself FUCKING Spaniel! And eats his freaking Chappa! - She let go of my head and began to cry. She left the room, and I was left alone with the " fucking spaniel" , which is still a couple of minutes ago he was ready to call Setom.

And he continued to drill me with a look, but he obviously did not want me to him stroking. He thinks I insulted his mistress and is now worth only to die in his own shit, even if it is what and was ready to share with me so it is thus crap, which I shall have to die. Of course, it was not like the beloved of Seth, but very much looked like a " fucking spaniel" , which he now is. However, he began to show signs of speech, he passed me - Bad- th . . . Seth does not like bad . . . - And he really looked like a dog, and ready to gnaw your throat, though it was not like the " fucking Spaniel" , but rather was like " fucking rottweiler" or " fucking rabid St.

Bernard, " but certainly not for the spaniel that even if he wanted to, could not jump so far up your neck. - Are you offended ho- ozyayku- y . . . The worst was that of Seth really have only a body, and in his sick, though very good, the brain has not lived Seth, and " fucking spaniel, " which closely resembled Rottweiler Killer. Scrolling through these thoughts in mind, little by little I began to realize that I do not really want to become a victim of a crazy boy of fifteen, and now a mad spaniel, who considers himself a Rottweiler Killer ready to gnaw through your throat and allow die in their own excrement.

And I suddenly realized - should be cut! - No, of course, Ill visit him, but later, at least when it stops to look at me like goulash.

I tried to look at him confidently and authoritatively, and for some reason thought that the dogs feel fear - but it is also not a dog, damn, its EST, the same set that CRIES OVER WELL Set as Advertising that in life no wrong a single living being! - Cried my inner voice. But, nevertheless, the fact remains a fact - I still want to live, so that in the next thirty seconds to come to terms with the fact that it is no longer Seth and crazy spaniel. Of course Seth was my friend, one might even say that the best, but it rang in my head, only one thought - Deri CLAWS moron, or also begin to figure DOG, AND ALSO Crazy! - I got up from his chair and began to move toward the exit, to which Seth counter blocked my way and grinned. But hell I Deri, it really looks like a dog. - You aesh value of what I Come uzhno from you? - Seth growled, and Im from, and could only wonder that shake their heads. - Let me out of here or I will not let you, at least, alive.

I suddenly realized that it was not Seth, no, not in the sense that it was " fucking spaniel, it was generally a very different creature, which could not have anything to do with Setom, even the brain, but in my mind the inner voice is still beating anxiety and I had to urgently get out of here - Come on, take off my chain. - Chain as luck was not so short that I was safe, and not so long that he could leave the house - remove, we will leave together, but let us go our separate ways. I had no reason to believe him, especially because in his eyes to read - let me out and Ill kill you immediately, you will not even suffer, no pain you certainly will feel about it then I do take care. I decided to jump over him, and as soon as I left the ground, dug into the neck of human incisors, and I am the second time that day felt the trickle of blood flowing through my skin, but this time it was bigger. The pain was not bearable, I wanted was to scream, but broke away from the throat only wheeze, with splashes of blood. Vocal cords, I felt it always compresses and decompresses the teeth, and have even felt its fetid breath, like a sharp pain and smell vile breath Seth began to disappear into oblivion.

Air was not enough, and I began to beat in the throes of trying to grab just a little air, and all teeth clenching and clenching, and instead of the desired air flowing into the lungs, my blood is still warm, seizures became more frequent, and I tried to grab the mouth air, as fish, which pulled out of the water. Darker. Champ Seth echoes, as if Im in a deep cave, and only my body writhing like a little stick on the engine super- car, and Im falling into that cave - so deep and so calm. There was no white light, no angels take you to the luxurious doors of paradise. There was a corridor.

Dark, with white walls, stained with tears. I walked, and seemed to be no end, I noticed a swinging lamp in a green shade, I walked to her, but she is moving away from me. I started to think that I followed her for thousands of years, and realized that Moses felt, I felt covering the void, hopelessness, because I only had two options - back and forth. And then she stopped. I went to her, and closer approaching, the darker it became.

When we were already quite a bit, suddenly became dark again. And here is the long awaited light.

But light is not bright, because Im on the landing of green homes, and from their apartments look out people, they whispered among themselves, but there are so calm, so quiet.

I did not care what they were whispering, and it was so clear, they were whispering about the newcomers - about me. I guess where I was, but they prefer to call it a city of the dead. In fact, it was not a city, it was House, House with a capital letter. The roots of this house went into the beginning of the twentieth century, and everyone living in this city, was ever killed in the House.

Killed settled exclusively in the field of their immediate slaughter, some, for example, lived on the stairs, someone in the toilet, and some " lucky" died in his bed. I was brought to my present abode, and how much I was surprised when I saw a huge black bull terrier, thanks to the jaws of which I was here, he smiled as only a dog could smile. Bull, before I had noticed, was the speaker, later told me that in fact it is not a dog, but only the body of it, that person administering it, lives inside her.

Simple, technically it turned out that his heart swallowed the dog stopped already within her. Of course the dog was just a murderer, but it does not matter, because he got control over it.

Therefore, a dog and could talk, though, it turned out particularly well, yet the structure of human speech is a bit different from the structure of the larynx dog . . . However, these worlds were, and remain, totally different, but not because everyone here was somehow killed, no difference was how the dead belonged to one another, was an unspoken agreement that did all if not friends, a nobody.

In this world much better than the one where you are now, believe me, this all can be trusted here all know the price of treachery and deceit. Worlds is just a matter, but what is the difference between fictional matter and one in which you now prisutstvuesh? If you see something, then it does not exist?

You see now the statue of liberty? None. You see now the ocean? You see, dear reader, the Egyptian pyramids, or at least my neighbor? Do you see yourself now?

And seeing someone you? Do not see any means not to know. Heres how things work in the City of the Dead, of course, you did not see, but if you happen to get into it? Just you try and tell me - no, and imagine how you will laugh when you happen to get there. If no one is none.

Exactly.

Number of friends in my case, it was clearly less than one sixth of those present here.

What surprised me was that I could surprise after what I experienced, or rather, vice versa - did not survive? Oh no, this was not such a surprising thing, at least here, only the number of arrivals has increased with each passing day - the car just started to gain momentum. Together with me on that ill- fated day arrived a few other people - or rather, three.

The next day, I watched the behavior of its neighbor sobakoobraznogo, which somehow did not feel weak, even anger, we are not talking, sometimes looked at, after which he was to blame lay on the floor, in a sign that no matter how sorry, and I indicative turned away, as if in a sign that I will not forgive her for killing couple slobbery, sorry looks. The same day I noticed, or rather felt that we had guests.

These were the four newcomers. As they told me, two of them were victims of not quite a healthy old man running around with a spare, and do not miss a cartridge for unexpected guests. Others, for some reason decided to keep silent about the reason for his being here, but a friendly neighbor with a spare, later told me that these are old residents of this house and died solely because of their own desires, by cutting his wrists in a hot tub.

They just do not see a way to associate themselves with bands of love. The next day the party arrivals rose to yet another victim.

And so throughout the week that I am here. The first three days I was interested in the reasons for their presence, but later I realized that the error is not the correct formulation of the problem, you need to ask not the reason for their death and their causes in this house.

As we already know, yet none of the guests of this house did not go back, at least, myself, and number of people who visit it each time ( day) increased by one victim. Yes, I am already dead and Im no road back, and I understand perfectly, but Im the only one of those present here, trying to get to the truth, the rest are engaged in two things: watch live and help, they will join a hundred, then another, Dead. To me, the wall had to write a slogan: " Each according to his needs - n- th number + 1 dead in a day" or better yet, " Implementation of the plan - the norm- fulfillment - Honor, " though I would not be surprised if by Droege I meet just such a poster.

What else could I do but nothing? Yes, Im already dead, but the damn house will soon reach hundreds of corpses per day ( Honor) , but . . . what exactly should I care about this fucking supplier of corpses, no, of course its not that I have such a right, not even that I want to save hundreds, of other lives, rather, I just hope . . . Is there a selfishness that is what I want? Of course there is!

Well, so what? Suppose Id rather live selfish, righteous than a ghost! But I have left out one. How much do I have here? Whole week, even anniversary can be celebrated, and nobody even tours not offered.

It remains to go to the reconnaissance in force.

I spent all week on the fifth floor, to be honest, there are enough interesting things, or repulsive. On the third floor for some reason the majority of those present had no legs, and they had to run to the cult, on the second situation was inversely proportional to: ground floor was divided into two camps, Camp Camp armless and assure themselves that they are asleep, but just do not awake. Part of it was true - you can call it a dream, however, very scary and the infinite, though, looking at the second camp, once it becomes clear why they do not believe in reality - they were ugly and not only during his lifetime, now we can say They have found their true nature. Going down to the first floor, I caught a couple of oblique views of the armless friends. Stairs ended the door.

First, just admired not daring to enter. And what I was waiting for her? Crazy fools, madmen freaks, freaks deprived eyes or limbs, and then all together . . . The door yielded at once. Having made a couple of steps, I could smell the Christmas fir.

As he was fine, here in this house, no smells, no feelings, there did not even need to breathe to live - not live here, but only there. The room was lit by many garlands, hung as a fir on the wall, it seemed, light they million colors, and on the table waiting for food and the smell of it made me rush to the table, but I could not. Between the table and I was an invisible wall, this was a distinction between living and dead, but to overcome it can only live.

I jumped and tried to jump and beat his body with a running start, but all my efforts were doomed - Im on the other side of life. I could not understand. Why?

A week ago I was burdened by millions of responsibilities, desires and uncountable billions of possibilities, but now I jump on an invisible wall, a wall that was a symbol of my insignificance, I was pathetic next to the wall, dead, unable to change anything in my life and now in its existence.

It was beyond my strength. I started to cry, but I have never flowed with tears.

I began to howl, and from my breasts are not pulled out any sound. I started beating on the wall. And I was not even hurt. What could be more terrible helplessness? Horrible insignificance?

After all, the owner of these very traits I now am. I thought I was crazy! Ha! Now, when the house started talking to me, Im crazy!

I hear it is as real as you can see those letters!

Do you think he offered me a deal? Thats how he did. He even relented to tell me that feeds the power of the dead, and now force him grow as never before. The meaning of the deal lay in the fact that either I will help him on his own or he would force me to do it.

But the stakes were high as ever.

With his hand trump was my life, he could give it to me for killing six people, and with my hand eternal service to him. Even if he would give me life, Ill be his slave, killed to order, and even without. If he had made the offer on the day of my arrival, I would not hesitate to agree, but no, not now. And ever.

Standing behind a wall, or rather the other side of it, I realized that way back there, and never will be. Life has become an illusion like the food side of the wall. None. Always. - Of course . . . - What else? - I do not know. - J. Stop!

I do not know. - Yes. Always.

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