Lime Tree #17 13 марта 1996

Самиздат

Lit.Stranichka - The story of moss bog "(Part 1-3).

Sorry, a couple of words from the editor. Any copyright 
literature works, composed, and not copied from somewhere, not

subjected to the editorial process. Ie I retain literacy
author.



     Hello dear readers of the newspaper "LIME TREE".

Today I am with you again and I can say for sure that
it gives me considerable pleasure. And especially because
This time I'll speak a little out of the role which
I am speaking generally. Because usually you have seen my 
articles in the sections on a purely computerized information: 
I'm heading "NEWS" in the same newspaper, and before that he 
wrote on the same theme in "ZXMAGAZINE", besides there is a 
good many articles simply on various topics SPECTRUM'ovskie 
etc. And then suddenly you meet with my literary work. The 
reason is very simple. The thing is that my second hobby after 
the computer is the writer's craft. But the genre that appeals 
to me and in which I always write very specific - that "black 
literature" or, more simply, the literature of horror. 
Therefore, like would immediately notify you that much fun in 
my works you find little. I would even say that he did not find 
it. I dare to hope that if you're not even a fan of

this genre, you still experience a lot of pleasant sensations.
Because, frankly, people like being scared and kept in 
suspense. Fear - a great tool for stress. People feel it 
intuitively. Therefore, it is so popular horror films, 
detective stories, and generally anything that increases the 
level of adrenaline in the blood.

In general, I will not particularly hard to take your time. 
Read and Assess. I would like to say is that those parts that 
are divided the story (and this is the story), are very 
conditional, and they are not at all the heads (mainly because 
of its small size) and are more likely meaning, I mean, divided 
story into semantic parts. So, I bid you farewell until next 
time. By the way, next time I would like a little more to tell 
you about the history of this story and how her story in 
general come into my head. 

                                                 STEVER OF CHG.
-------------------------------------------------- -------------
FROM THE AUTHOR: All the characters are fictional and the 
coincidence with the real people who live no more than a 
coincidence. That As for the act, then this is the real 
terrain, suschesstvuyuschaya not only in the imagination of the 
author, but also on the map of Moscow region. The Legend of 
moss bog is also not clear fiction, as well as the very 
quagmire. 



                         Moss Swamp.


                               1


   Nezaasfaltirovannaya road wound in the middle of the field, 
stretching into the distance on an unimaginable distance. The 
young man, pryamotaki bent in an arc from the unbearable weight 
of its enormous backpack, calmly walked on this road itself 
(rather resembled not so much a footpath), apparently 
okanchatelno submit to her fate and decided to bring his own 
cross to the end. But with each step the direction of his 
thoughts more and more inclined toward the fact that it is time 
to stop taunt each other and stay at least three minutes for a 
little respite. Therefore, the motor noise emanating from 
behind the pedestrian, sounded in his ears the sweetest music - 
now he has, in at least was able to stop the car and ride a 
little bit, instead of covering the required distance on foot. 
Calculation did not disappoint. Whether the driver, or car 
passengers were people on the extremely compassionate, because 
the car stopped, only coming up with a pedestrian. He also lost 
no time to pause. The right side window and the car slowly sank 
out of a hole was put out someone's head. After a few seconds 
pedestrian heard addressed to his words: 

   - Far go?
A young man who does not giving a mad joy which is so
and pierced right through him, replied, trying to speak as much 
as possible more care:


   - The nearest village.

   - Well, you sit down - a lift. We were there, - said a 
passenger car. 

   - Thanks, - responded to this pedestrian and continued, - 
you me simply to save. See for yourself - I have a backpack is 
not small, but before this the village has about two 
kilometers, at a minimum. He opened the back door of the car, 
put his backpack on the seat, and then sat down himself. The 
car moved on. Young man, get comfortable, and began carefully 
examine its own satellites. They were three, along with the 
driver: two men on form which could give forty years, and one 
woman, about the same age. After about a minute one of these 
men, the one who sat next to a young man in the back seat asked 
him: 

   - You have also gathered the nuts, or a dacha here have?

   - For the nuts - briefly replied.

   - Well, right - all said the same man - he says
that the nuts in these places just nemerenoe number. We are, 
strictly speaking, only because of this and have arrived. I, 
incidentally, is called Vikkenty Ya - he introduced himself - 
so we are familiar. 

   - Michael, -, in turn, said the young man.

   - Well, you too say your middle name. And it is awkward to 
apply to you. 

   - V.. Mikhail V. Bogachev, - said the young man.

   - Well, that's ladnenko - said Vikkenty Yakovlevich - And now
I present to you the rest. This here is Viktor Nikolaevich. 
Kozankov. This is his wife - Victoria Petrovna. But am his 
friend. Dude, nomadic. Then the young man a little breathless. 
He saw driver's face in the rearview mirror and the person is 
aroused him some vague recollection. Somewhere in half a minute 
before he realized. The same was the same Victor N. Kozankov - 
one of the most famous Russian writers who have devoted their 
talents sverhestestvennogo literature of horror. Bogachev, as a 
lover of such things, was a very big fan of creative work 
Kozankova. And suddenly he found himself in a car together with 
his idol. This one it was enough to temporarily speechless. 
When this precious gift back to him came back, he decided to 
turn to a writer with a question: 

   - So you have the same Kozankov? Writer?
The driver smiled contentedly and said:

   - In general, yes - and went on to say - I did not know that 
I have many know in person.


   - Your picture is always printed in your books, - explained 
the Bogachev.


   - Ah, well then it's understandable - a nod Kozankov said.

   - I am the way, your very big fan - said the young man - I 
read almost everything that comes out of you. 

   - Do you like horror? - Asked Kozankov.

   - Yes. Pete's so weak - Bogachev said.

   - And here I must say, do not really understand how all these
horrors of the wing - butted into the conversation Vikkenty 
Yakovlevich - What would have been terrible, all these stories, 
they can scare, unless that baby.


   - Well, here you are wrong, - said the Bogachev - If scary
story to read, for example, at night, so even in the 
corresponding environment, sleepless night, or so on-at least, 
bad dreams I'll guarantee you.


   - That's so, Vikkenty - said Kozankov - Protect me my 
readers. So you're really wrong. Man on their nature, loves all 
the mysterious and incomprehensible. His bread is not feed, 
give scared. Meanwhile, a car podehal to the object of their 
desires - a small village, located three kilometers from the 
highway and surrounded by a huge forest. 


                             2


   Vikkenty Y. Yegorov critical eye looked all around. Before 
his eyes stretched typical village of that time. Of course, no 
longer what it was in the beginning of the century, but some 
shades of true rural strariny still preserved. Egorov slowly 
marched through the village, wondering at it this way: "A 
wonderful place. Three kilometers from the highway, or you 
exhaust, you either polluted air. Here is all you need a normal 
person for a rest. It would be nice to get here uchastochek, "- 
here Vikkenty Ya noticed an old man sitting on a bench front of 
his house and fingers probably just collected nuts. His 
thoughts immediately changed dramatically: "How many of his 
nuts! - Surprise he thought - Yes, if I knew where he scored so 
many, he himself, perhaps, more dial all. " Egorov few seconds 
going to the spirit, and then turned to old:


   - Where are you nuts such typed. Royal nuts after something.
Strarik displeasure interrupted his work, he raised his head 
and looked at Egorova faded eyes, asked: 

   - And what are you, summer resident, or what?
Surprised by such barbaric behavior of the old man, Vikkenty Y.
replied:

   - Yes. I recently bought a plot near your village.
There is now building a holiday village.
This message has not caused the old man is no 
entuziazma.Naprotiv, He frowned, and even more rudely asked:


   - And what you agreed to go into a kind of wilderness?

   - Well, why wilderness? In my opinion, quite a nice village 
- said in response Egorov. 

   - Well, it you think so, - said the old man.
Wanting to stop an unpleasant conversation, Egorov said:

   - So I ask, where are you nuts such typed.

   - We know where. Here one is not far off place. Rich in
nuts.

   - Where to spot something that? - Asked cautiously Vikkenty 
Y., anticipating how nuts he attains. The old man pointed to 
one corner of the forest surrounding the village, and said: 

   - Here is a piece of wood called us young grove. Hazel there
noble. Can gather, until they get tired, still not nuts
end. But do not go away.

   - This is why? - Said Yegorov.

   - Well ...,- handed the old man - not a good place ... And 
anyway ... 

   - What do?

   - Vobschem you do not understand.

   - What do you mean to understand? - Asked a little offended
Vikkenty Ya.

   - Yes, that's it! - Suddenly a loud old man answered, - 
August now. The time is nearing.


   - What time?
Then the old man realized that blurted out too much, and said:

   - Yes it is I, incidentally. You do not pay vnimaniya.No 
importantly, IU go deep into the forest.

Still do not understand, but a little calmer, Egorov
popraschalsya with the old man and went to the other side, 
where he said the old man. In his hands he held a small basket. 


                             3


   Victor N. Kozankov out of the woods first. Behind him barely
keep up with his wife and agreed to join the gathering of nuts
Bogachev.Oni out on a small road that led towards the village. 
At the roadside stood a machine Kozankova. Rays of the setting 
sun reflected from the windshield of the car blinded travelers, 
so that at first he could hardly Viktor Nikolaevich see the 
surrounding countryside. Out on the road, Bogachev asked 
Kozankova: 

   - So where's your friend? He also promised to be kind of 
like a machine at this time. 

   - It's the country - worried uttered in response to one - not
may well be that Yegorov stayed in the village for four
hours, and in the woods, he could not so much nahoditsya.Tut 
something wrong. As far as I know Egorova, he is a very 
punctual. And throughout. And if he says he will come to such a 
time, we can give head to cut off that it will come exactly the 
appointed time. 

   - Listen, Vit - butted into the conversation his wife 
Kozankova - maybe he just came across a good nut and lost count 
time? 

   - Well, I do not know - the answer to this Victor N. - Maybe
and so. But something I doubt he is four o'clock wandered 
through the woods, and so do not ever and do not remember that 
we are here waiting for you. In general, - has summed up 
Kozankov - looks like we'll have to stay here and wait for him 
some more time. 

   - Maybe some tea while popem? - Has offered Victoria 
Petrovna. 

   - Come on - said Kozankov and asked Bogacheva - you do not
against?
He felt like his stomach zaburlil from mere thought of
food, without hesitation, agreed.

   ... Only now, comfortably with a hot cup of tea
one hand and a sandwich in the other, Bogachev first time ever 
cast a glance its surroundings. Forest on both sides and a 
private road that is quite suitable for the drive. It seems to 
be nothing special, but Bogachev felt in all this is something 
bad, negative effect. He knew that there are places which, 
depending on the circumstances, affect nastoenie rights, and 
sometimes even on his zdorove.Sudya around it was one of such 
places. It tends to meditation. But looked more closer to their 
thoughts, Bogachev realized that fear of them blowing. And 
indeed, all around caused a very gloomy associations, and 
awakened in the soul of a wild terror of something unknown: 
every tree, every bump, every blade of grass. Seemed that even 
the air is saturated with viscous scent of danger. I was so 
Bogacheva oshuschenie that this whole area and has a heart of 
this horror. After all, the basis for any fear most are quite 
ordinary things and only need to correctly interpret them, to 
get the desired effect. Bogachev clearly felt some ominous 
warning, which says that no you can always trust the external 
placidity of the world and not everything is always as good as 
it seems. At some point, Bogachev Suddenly, with terrifying 
clarity realized that he and his companions come face to face 
with the unnameable - the quintessence of all the monstrous and 
nightmarish from the fact that there are in the world. It took 
him ten minutes to arrive at a little after such a flow of 
thoughts from feelings. Some time it is absolutely sat quietly 
and tried to expel from his mind all traces of fear and finally 
he succeeded. But he suddenly noticed a very strange pattern: 
As soon as the fear stopped Davletov over him, in its place has 
come a very strange and funny feeling as if its someone calling 
and beckoning to-to.Spustya few minutes Bogachev could not even 
determine where the call was imperious - of the forest. That 
very terrible in its grandeur of the forest, which rose over 
his head. Bogachev barely overcame the desire to jump up and 
run to meet this call, as well understood as all the nightmare 
that is happening in his head, looked like madness. It remains 
only to accept and wait for isolation ... It was seven o'clock 
in the evening. Darkness had just predyavlyala their right on 
the day, but worth wait for a while and she would okanchatelno 
obsessed with light. A Egorov not vozvraschalsya.Kozankov just 
do not stay in one place and was in a panic. He smoked 
incessantly and paced up and down near the machine, like 
clockwork. Viktoria Petrovna was trying a little to calm her 
husband and said she could still be good, but in vain. Viktor 
Nikolayevich even listen to nothing I wanted. He was firmly 
convinced that Yegorov befallen some trouble and he needs help. 
When Kozankova nerves were already stretched to the limit, 
Bogachev suddenly said: 

   - You know, I think we sit here aimlessly. The best option 
is to go to the village. There we ever be able to find 
overnight, and inquire about Yegorov, too. His proposal was 
accepted, because no one relish the prospect of sleeping in the 
woods. 


                    TO BE CONTINUED .....


          STEVER OF CENTRONICS HACKERS GROUP, 15.03.96. / 12:37.



Number edited LORD WINTER

Chief Editor: LORD WINTER, Alex, 300-1064
Editor, AAI: ARGON, Alexander, 401-9029
leading p. "News": STEVER, Oleg, 366-6084
leading p. "ABOUT": ANDY NIK, Andrew, 186-4850
leading p. "Through the Looking Glass: 583-SOFT, Alexander, 
583-8993 

(C) 1996 WINSOFT PRODUCTION