Demons. Joanna's Page 38. Door 5

Yulia Ivanova

Demons. Joanna's Page 38. Door 5

* * *
She took French leave.

'Anton, I need you. No, it;s secret... All sorts of things - take me in. Where-where, in bed. Givi does not let Denis go but I have all the lights out.'

In the lobby, sitting on the windowsill open window, smoking a lonely Helge. She almost looked with fear at approaching Yana. Ian listened to himself: it was all the same soundless void.

She asked Helge to bring Denis' a jacket, they forgot to back of the chair, she throws herself headlong perform.
How are they, in Tartu, where the river and the blood flew slowly
Or, how was John now, smile to them with a smile of Giaconda and let them go?

She and Anton decided not to catch Taxi but have some fresh air and: just a walk for four or five miles.
The night was warm, the cicadas were crackling and the sea was lapping nearby.
They went merrily, both of them were slightly swaying, talking, humming different songs; so they've ever before, along with the return of any collective action.

But it was something different. Something that embarrassed Yana. And this 'something' was Denis' wig, jacket and smell. His grimaces and phrases, which finally Anton who imitated Denis successfully amused.
Now it no longer amused but confused her; he was too similar. Not even at the present, and the addition of exotic Peacock, whose heart she had once unsuccessfully stormed.
Either way his arm around her waist excited her. This was not enough!

'Take off that stupid makeup, hot now!'

"But no one requests for an autograph. Look, they do not stick and even not turn around.
No, I will probably remain so. Imagine tomorrow so I am taking pictures, common greetings to everyone... So, gentlemen, and where is our Kravchenko?

Yana roared with laughter: so he mimicked like Denis. Contriving, she tore his wig of bald Denis, and Anton's golden and ever bleached hair broke free, and Denis became Anton.
She scraped his make-up from his face with a handkerchief, he fought back with a laugh, more and more becoming Kravchenko, and now some Zhiguli braked sharply, someone's ecstatic face appeared in the side window frame.

"It's really Kolchugin. Anton, take a seat! Where whould you like to go, dear&

They fled in panic towards the sea, made their way to a departmental beach. Anton went into the sea to wash off and disappeared for a long time. She had heard only, as he happily splashed and bawled.
She could not resist and also dived into the water, swam near the shore. The water was warm in summer, truly velvet, the big southern stars overhead lights climbs up the mountain magic of the city - oh the sea in Gagra!
She got out first, wiped Kravchenko's tank top, threw off wet clothes and pulled on her naked body corporate her dress.

Kravchenko, finally, also went out of the water. He was perfectly composed, and they always come up to him on the set of winning going out of the water: sea, river, swimming pool, bath. Pavel Kolchugin Coming out of the had been was a stamp for her for a long tome.

But now, again, something changed, she seemed to see him first. From now on she was destined to see him as Denis, an improved considerably younger-looking copy.
It was like an obsession. Why she had not noticed this striking similarity? She gave him a wet tank top, staring corner of his eye as he wiped off, then smoke, sitting next to the pile too wet foam rubber mats...

"OK, come on, get up, she gave him her hand - Get dressed, you will catch a cold."

He caught her hand, jumped up abruptly and sharply pulled over, and she could not resist, fell on his chest, the iron legs that do not close up slow.

Normally reserved, Anton, 'teetotal, moral stability, the Nordic character' if he got drunk now and then, invariably became impudent and gave will to his hands, no matter what the skirt provided at a time on his warped extra degrees of his life's journey.
He happened pinched Yana too somewhere in the corner secretly, it became a kind of ritual, I had only to click on his nose, "Lay off, blockhead!"

He waited for her to flip, pull up, repel, the hand slowly slid over her dress, under which there was nothing. They were separated only by ephemerally, silky scales of French products, Yana bought under the counter in a commission shop in Herzen street.

His face was so like at Denis' in the twilight...
Now everything was mixed up: it was now Denis, now Anton, no unbending Pavel invented by her.
And suddenly a strange predatory gleam flashed in the eyes of Anton's, in which she languished in the arms of Denis...
Sweetly agonizing death-triumph of prey, which a hunter yearns for, and thus belongs to his prey, so stupefied her, that she has missed a momentconventionally separates them.
For which the impossible becomes possible.

He was always subconsciously wanted her who was an arbiters of his fate. There were implicated both their swearing on the set and their dependence on the will to Denis, and her unconscious hatred and to Denis even to herself.
Revolt of freedom, rebellion against the creation of the creator...

In short, she saw with horror as moderately drunk, cocky, and moderately well controlled Anton turned suddenly into a fire-breathing monster.
This fire has devoured both her and himself. Liberated suddenly dark element it was impossible to put back into the bottle.

Yana tried to escape but he growled, as if a tiger trainer who takes away the bone, he was completely insane.
Only hell knew what muffled Kravchenkov's subconscious inhibitions, thoughts and desires broke free due to careless behavior of her. Eyes, lips, hands demanded from her victim, at the same time laying his head on the block.

Denis face distorted from passion. Incredible! Burning dying ice on which she had always languished.

She thought they were probably good drunk. It was a thought-alibi.
"Beast, animal, drunk" to Anton was also an alibi.

And finally, meekly, nasty 'let it be' as in her childhood she looked at two in her exercise book, smeared on a puddle or a torn dress.
If so, well, let it be. It then can break off the exercise book, the dress and the whole world in tatters, and herself too.
Sweet craving destruction, self-destruction when pierced its claws.

"Well, let it be" she thought, and ceased to resist.

What happened that night on a pile of wet foam rubber mat of some departmental beach, just knocked her astray.

"Animal!" she thought nothing of herself lying down, depressed as a rag in the clutches of a fire-breathing Anton. It was as if it was not she, but only her silk skin - a blissfully dead emptiness inside.

"I am - an animal". This shocking discovery (she always thought of myself as a high spiritual being, with contempt for the "priests of the flesh) for some reason not too saddened her.
She simply stated a fact.

Kravchenko moved.

"Just try to blether!" she hissed.
But he was not going to blether, he now had one in mind. Of course he sobered up long ago but pretended to be a master drunk - so it was comfortable.

"It was only a hop that solves everything," - as it was sung in her favorite childhood romance.

Genie went out of the bottle. Finally, not she and Denis and cooked Kravchenko's fate in the family kitchen; this episode in the wet foam mats was not foreseen in the script.
Now the author has he, Kravchenko.
His finest hour came, he decided to prove it and he was spit on everything. Though fight, though biting.

She managed to steer developments at least in a civilized fashion, promising to move the location of the Otar's room.
Claws reluctantly relaxed.
She had to abandon attempts to reach the shore. Anton continually stopped and squeezed it as a young man, seizing up to classmates.
She dragged him into the road, forcing again pulled on the wig and glasses - rare night passers-by now paid them no attention. There are a lot strange-looking couples in the resort who had a drop too much?

Anton would not give up all, he was again more like a Denis, he smelled of Denis, his lotion.
Denis' jacket hung it on him, then on her shoulders, every now and then dumping on the sidewalk when he was her paw, all the more becoming impudent.

" Stop pretending to be drunk, blockhead!"

I twisted the iron gate she made a last-ditch attempt to get rid of him at the hotel - where there!
She urged him to stop playing the 'Egyptian Nights', threatened Denis that can come at any moment.
Anton just laughed and said that even if Denis would find them in one bed, and he wouldn't think of something like that. And it was true.

Kravchenko went hawking. The reminder about Denis affected him as a lobster on a bull. However, as at Yana. Emerged from the darkness, freckled face Helge, and then the other Denis' friends circled the diabolic whirl around them...

Yana and Anton with the face of Denis, Denis Anton face, clinging to her stranglehold on the bulldog with the pressure of the jaws.

"Calm down, the owners can wake up!"

"But this last trump will only further inspired the chain torn from Anton. How did - she is afraid of him! It is in his power... And let the whole house wakes up, Gagra wake up, wake up the world - he does not care.
For his hour struck.

She linked the deeper, while by no means was trapped - in the attic, a matchbox, which is the salvation of Kravchenko was not. Where to even fight back from it was impossible not to make a fuss. Where you could only tolerate with clenched teeth, hoping that he should finally settle down and fall asleep!

However, this forced her resignation only adds fuel to the fire. This is his sudden rapture of sudden authority over it certainly was something demonic.
Worst of all was that he could fire again and again and demons that flame.
She was not a victim but an accomplice. An equal player in the complex amorous game on several boards: Anton, Denis, Helge, Denisov, girlfriends and their own systems.
Where Denis-Anton finally belonged to her.
Where posessingshe was released from it. Where revenging she forgave him.

And with them, she and Kravchenko, avenged Denis, getting rid of him, and were at the same time in this game.
Hated two-faced god, the dominance of Anton Yana-Denis, suddenly splitted. It is now, Anton, destroying it. Now he was a god.

Each spark, which he managed to carve out a body enslaved Yana was his trophy, Promethean fire, stolen from Mount Olympus, from which he lighted.

Only at dawn when the roosters cry landlady, Anton, as befits the evil spirits will disappear.
On the morning of shooting was appointed in heavenly place a few miles from Gagra. Where were magically painted the southern mountains in autumn, and rapid mountain river, and the suspension bridge ... And the hut by the river with a fire in the middle, over which the goat roasted on a spit for guests puffed hominy in the pot, the wine was served in pitchers with high-eastern bottleneck.

Where superman Kolchugin went from lured gangsters him into a tra; it was a dashing classic chase scene, so adorable by Denis, Anton and the audience.
From lashing out riddled with wine barrels bloody jets, with jumping on tables and steep mountain slopes, from the bridge into the river foam, with a violent clash somewhere over the abyss... And finally, with racing on a mountain road - all this John could not stand because it was cheap!

But, alas, people liked it. And had to write these stupid chase.
A dashing director, a dashing operator, dashing doubles, but mostly myself Kravchenko without backup was a dashing nature - these scenes to consistently disrupted screenings of applause.

Everything was exciting and beautiful in this paradise - especially the flying bandit into the abyss of the white 'Volga' was beautiful.
Even the ruined old building 'Volga' - not sorry - out as the "Volga", white, and different, licked, festooned with all sorts of trinkets worn back and forth from one meal to another!

Then, many years ahead, there will be war.
Blood, tanks, fires, frantic face of refugees fleeing across the bridge...

Then she thought about something like that seemed absurd, nothing that could not happen here either, where the band was still at home, albeit at a party, or anywhere in the country.

And Caucasians, when they came to Moscow, though they were guests, but it was their capital too.

But when Shevardnadze was ferocious about because of corruption of Georgian elite, during the filming of John on the Riga coast met in the 'Pearl', a cheerful company of the South, get away from the secretary's all-seeing eye under the wing of fellow Balts who were drinking at their cost.
And Helge was at home when they came for the summer to the southern sea and sun.

'My address is not a house and not a street, my address is the Soviet Union', - it was her country with all the absurdities and weaknesses, which she loved with all her heart.
In general it is absurd to prove a frog that a sea is better than a swamp, or polar bear that his native Arctic worse in the tropics, because it is cold and there are no lianas.

But to the future, although it was to 'a stone throw from', but there were still a half decades. And Yana, forcing himself on that crazy day still drag on shooting in the heat at the local bus cracked, held up his cheeks for kisses - one to David, and another to an unbending Pavel Kolchugin.
Who, fortunately, as the whole group, as always on the shootings, paid no attention to her.

The world Invented by her lived its own life. The group was nervous, hurried, fearful that the weather is about to go bad because there was a wind from the sea.
Everyone raced off to shoot scribbler's Denis' masterpiece, the scene over the precipice, where Kolchugin in mortal combat, overcame a shepherd, a secret owner of a poppy field, for some reason, karate - this episode is John still in Moscow had called 'the abyss of lies'.

Leaving them to shoot over the precipice sleepy Kravchenko, Yana sat alone for several hours in cine minibus, in the parking lot next to the toilet.

'Children of different nations' who came to rest on tourist vouchers and campers by the fabulously cheap tickets and even cheaper - by rail, ate and drank.
Not knowing that they live in an evil empire and prison of people. What is not far off happy time when they win the right to struggle hard never to appear in this magical land.
When everyone will have their own edge-paradise, out of which most will not afford them.

And many fine edge will fronts, where you will be plenty to shoot at each other the freedom to abandon a large house in the name of the sovereign individual rooms.

And in the place where now stands minibus, also in the midst of a velvet season will lie dead teenager Georgian or Abkhazian - who can disassemble them? In a blood-stained T-shirt with Mickey Mouse.
And the merry mouse in red stains on the fabric seems especially terrible.

But then the darkest schizophrenic fantasy could not think of something like that. Then Yana, sitting alone in movie minibus and being in a dull stupor of sleeping, seemed the most important answer to the question,
"What will happen now?"

The answer would be self-evident, vulgar primitive, two and two together, and for some reason, in the form of mangy mutts, soiling goat leg in the dust in front of the minibus.
Yaba whistled it through the open window, just like that.
A dog only slightly squinted eyes, absorbed in the bone.

" Yes, nothing will happen. No-thing," - she not so heard, but did not say to herself.

" No-thing... No-thing," crunched the dog with the bone.

"And why, indeed, something must be done?" Yana thought, 'no-thing..."

And once something changed. Already in some new capacity, she traveled with an awake driver of the minibus chew smoked meat with hominy, washed down with a ta
rt wine, and here and the team returned in excellent spirits.

Kravchenko, all the way back asleep on the shoulder of a make-up artist and Yana limped from the wine dozed on the arm of Denis, dressed in a jacket that same, which is in the mountains came in handy - there was windy there.

Then, the self-other, she was in the Denis' room, and Denis showed her that he missed, or it was a good play.

She, however, played not very good as if continued last night.
And whether Denis became insatiable Anton, whether Anton became Denis.
And who was she?

" Whore," she thought falling asleep. "I'm a whore."

But this did not shaken nor hurt. And somewhere in her subconscious gnawed like a dog gnaws that bone:

"Nothing happened. Nothing!"

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