never asked Eugene about why did he leave me there to be eaten by the wild dogs, and he never asked how I managed to escape. And all of us kept complete silence about us leaving the airlock open when we were fleeing the Gardens as fast as we could.
We tried to close it manually, but it was really hard to move. Then I told “to hell with it!”, Vitali and Eugene looked at me with either a reproach or gratitude and left that scrap metal alone. We all became accomplices in the same crime, but it was me who told “to hell with it!”.
Why? Maybe, because I didn't forget everything?
Because the traces of what had happened came back to me? Because they were trying to escape the cellars of conscience where I'd locked them, seeping into my dreams, taking me completely unprepared?
I prevented myself from remembering, since whatever happened was incredibly scary – and probably forbidden. And when the Dark Ones started descending into Metro using the airlock we left open… That's when I felt really uncomfortable.
That old geezer who's supposedly writing a book about me… I gave him a rather complete account of my dreams, describing some of the nightmares in detail. Still, I never talked to him about the vision that visited me much more often than any other. Maybe that's because I always suspected it might have not been a dream.
…The huge dog jumps at me, aiming its yellow fangs directly at my throat. The others are ready to join in as soon as the leader drops me. I'm going to die within seconds, my time has run out.
The dog goes limp in the middle of its jump and drops to the ground like a rag doll. The other dogs tuck their tails, whine and crawl back... I turn around and freeze.
There's a huge black shadow standing right behind my shoulder. Incredible, indescribable terror envelops me – then I feel something on my head... a palm?
A second passes, then another – I'm trying to wrestle away, but the long and incredibly strong fingers securely hold my head. I understand: this is the end.
Then the pain and fear suddenly fade away like a lump of sugar in a cup of tea.
The dogs are running, one of them shits itself, the other convulses uncontrollably. But I no longer care for the dogs. Abandoning my attempts to get away from the grip of the black hand, I raise my eyes slowly and gaze upon the mysterious creature holding my soul at the palm of its hand.
The Dark One…
It is humanoid and is way higher than even the highest of the adults I've seen. Its skin is darker than a darkest night and its unblinking round eyes are jet black, too. And yet they contain much more wisdom than many those blessed with whites of the eyes.
There's no doubt it's no beast, no monster.
A human stands before me.
And stares right into me with his strange eyes. He sees everything: the Botanical Gardens of the past I longed to enter and that of the present which I'd almost entered... He sees the colorful ice-cream stand, the queue, the small clouds speeding across the sky, the mandarin ducks in the pond and my mother. He sees her death, sees me wondering along the empty tunnels, my sadness and my loneliness, my inability to grow attached to another of my kind.
He sees a Dark One, a strange, little and clumsy one. A strangely colored one. A stranger in this land and the whole wide world. Abandoned and unable to reach out for anyone. An orphan.
And he pities me. Sympathizes with me and blesses me…
For a tiny little moment, instead of his imposing dark silhouette, I see…
Mother. She is smiling, whispering something tender to me and stroking my hair. She hands me an ice-cream. The leaves above our heads rustle in the wind, the silver clouds float in the sky, and people around us laugh happily... Everything is just the way it was that day.
When I came to, I could not recall her face anymore, and I never saw it in any of my dreams ever since. Though I know
We tried to close it manually, but it was really hard to move. Then I told “to hell with it!”, Vitali and Eugene looked at me with either a reproach or gratitude and left that scrap metal alone. We all became accomplices in the same crime, but it was me who told “to hell with it!”.
Why? Maybe, because I didn't forget everything?
Because the traces of what had happened came back to me? Because they were trying to escape the cellars of conscience where I'd locked them, seeping into my dreams, taking me completely unprepared?
I prevented myself from remembering, since whatever happened was incredibly scary – and probably forbidden. And when the Dark Ones started descending into Metro using the airlock we left open… That's when I felt really uncomfortable.
That old geezer who's supposedly writing a book about me… I gave him a rather complete account of my dreams, describing some of the nightmares in detail. Still, I never talked to him about the vision that visited me much more often than any other. Maybe that's because I always suspected it might have not been a dream.
…The huge dog jumps at me, aiming its yellow fangs directly at my throat. The others are ready to join in as soon as the leader drops me. I'm going to die within seconds, my time has run out.
The dog goes limp in the middle of its jump and drops to the ground like a rag doll. The other dogs tuck their tails, whine and crawl back... I turn around and freeze.
There's a huge black shadow standing right behind my shoulder. Incredible, indescribable terror envelops me – then I feel something on my head... a palm?
A second passes, then another – I'm trying to wrestle away, but the long and incredibly strong fingers securely hold my head. I understand: this is the end.
Then the pain and fear suddenly fade away like a lump of sugar in a cup of tea.
The dogs are running, one of them shits itself, the other convulses uncontrollably. But I no longer care for the dogs. Abandoning my attempts to get away from the grip of the black hand, I raise my eyes slowly and gaze upon the mysterious creature holding my soul at the palm of its hand.
The Dark One…
It is humanoid and is way higher than even the highest of the adults I've seen. Its skin is darker than a darkest night and its unblinking round eyes are jet black, too. And yet they contain much more wisdom than many those blessed with whites of the eyes.
There's no doubt it's no beast, no monster.
A human stands before me.
And stares right into me with his strange eyes. He sees everything: the Botanical Gardens of the past I longed to enter and that of the present which I'd almost entered... He sees the colorful ice-cream stand, the queue, the small clouds speeding across the sky, the mandarin ducks in the pond and my mother. He sees her death, sees me wondering along the empty tunnels, my sadness and my loneliness, my inability to grow attached to another of my kind.
He sees a Dark One, a strange, little and clumsy one. A strangely colored one. A stranger in this land and the whole wide world. Abandoned and unable to reach out for anyone. An orphan.
And he pities me. Sympathizes with me and blesses me…
For a tiny little moment, instead of his imposing dark silhouette, I see…
Mother. She is smiling, whispering something tender to me and stroking my hair. She hands me an ice-cream. The leaves above our heads rustle in the wind, the silver clouds float in the sky, and people around us laugh happily... Everything is just the way it was that day.
When I came to, I could not recall her face anymore, and I never saw it in any of my dreams ever since. Though I know
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