+-+----+ +- - +----+ +----+ +- - +--+ +- - +----+-+
|| || || | || || || || || | || | || | || ||
|| ++ || | || ++ || ++ || | || | || | || ++
++---+ || | || || || | |+---+ || | ++---+
|| || | || || || | || | || | ||
|| || | || || || | || | || | ||
|| || | || || || | || | || | ||
+- || || | || -+ || -+ || | || | || | +- ||
|| || || | || || || || || | || | || | || ||
+-++--++ ++---+ ++--++ ++--++ ++---+ ++---+ ++---+ ++--++ --+
+----------------------------------------------------------+|
| +------------ by ----------------------------+
: | |
. |------- Demiurge Ash ---------+ :
: | .
+--------------------------------------------|
| :
:
Это не рассказ и не новелла. Это ЭТЮД. Сначало родилось
Настроение, постепенно пeрeтeкшee в Чувство. Затем в руках
очутился карандаш и чистый лист - Чувство обрелоForm. But all
Only I felt the sketch, others did not see it completely, or
looked at him in a different light. So I had to use a pencil
complete the sketch with a sketch in words. Copies of the pencil sketch are available
only three people, fifteen more people saw him,
the rest will have to invent words with images...
Ruins of the Bright Abode. Piles of stones, broken glass
stained glass windows, moss-covered wooden beams. Frescoes from the walls are already
washed away by wind and rain. At the top of one of the walls stuck lightly
twisted rusty Orthodox cross with traces
gilding. It was not people who destroyed the Abode - Time.
I am lying in a rpahuthom crypt under a gravestone - found
eternal peace. The name and cross of St. Peter is carved on the slab
or, as it is better known, the Satanic cross. For me it's
the sign of opposition to Light is the sign of Darkness. The Dark One was erected nearby
Temple. I don't feel time and that's why it seems to me that he stood
here since that very moment...
The Twisted Cross and the Open Pentagram guard the walls of the Temple.
Succubus, my faithful Succubus protects my peace, for the forces of light
a myth arose that with the destruction of my grave theirs would be reborn
the power that my corpse conceals an artifact of Power. But it's not
So, in this world I have nothing left to desire. The only thing,what do I need
I needed it, I found it - paying for it with my life and soul.
My body is not subject to decay, my soul is chained to the body and,
perhaps this is a sign that the Gods will yet bring me to the Stage. And,
perhaps I have already become God. Dead God. Dead God
THIS world.
Moments of pleasure: another Fighter against Darkness in snow-white
cloak, having killed all the priests of the Temple, approaches my grave.
His sword, covered with all kinds of runes, entwined with spells
clerics, capable of much... but not here.
This is where Dark Love resides. On the Hero's path slowly
the dark gray figure of my Succubus appears.
Anticipating blood, a ruby pulsates on her neck - my last
gift.
She draws her weapon, it looks like a small one
an elegant sword, but it is the substance of naked feeling. Awkward
Hero's swing - it's hard to kill Beauty. Smooth movement from below
up the girl's sword, honed on hundreds of such heroes, and on
a rapidly enlarging purple stripe appears on a person’s chest.
His knees buckle, he lets out a cry that scares the flying
mice in the forest surrounding the Temple. Yes, it hurts a lot when together
With the death of the body, Dark Love enters the soul. And here's another soulrushes into the Darkness in order to remain there forever, not knowing otherwise
pain, except love...
The succubus gently strokes my tombstone. Death, in
gratitude for the Hero, gives us the opportunity to reunite on
brief moment...
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