The sun shone brightly in the sky. However, the next instant, the light faded him, and at the same moment the sky was clouded in clouds and snow was snowing. Fresh snowy snow immediately melted, and the clouds again gave way to a cloudless sky and a brightly glowing sun. The trees delighted the eye with violent green colors, which periodically changed to red. Birds chirped everywhere, but their chiritis turned into a croaking raven.
He walked home. The world around him changed in the blink of an eye, but he did not attach importance to this, because he knew that all this was just a dream. The path was periodically crossed by various foggy silhouettes, turning his hoarse -eyed faces in his direction. Finally, a couple of silhouettes stopped and pointed with her hands somewhere behind his back. He turned around. There were four foggy silhouettes. They seemed painfully familiar. These silhouettes waved his hand in greeting. Then they turned around in one and went into the void.
He shrugged and headed on. The road, which used to seem short, now has become surprisingly long. But sleep has its own laws.
He walked until a stranger stood up in his way. It was some kind of knight. He was cheerful, in sparkling armor, with a two -handed sword and a glass of wine. However, the next moment he changed, as if flowing into another state. Now there was a harsh warrior in front of him, all in the blood, his face was covered with scars, in his eyes fatigue. The warrior pointed his finger at him and evaporated.
Finally, he got home. Entering it, the first thing he went to the kitchen, drink water. Dad stood in the kitchen. Seeing his son, his father smiled broadly and handed him a glass of water. He incredulously took a glass and took a sip. The liquid burned his throat, it was something that he had not drank before. Father smiled even wider and evaporated.
After the father disappeared in the kitchen, mom appeared. Like dad, she smiled and handed him two pies. He began to eat them. The first pie was insanely tasty. The second left the taste of ash in his mouth.
At that moment he woke up.
The sun was shining. Bright, friendly in the age, it shone from heaven, smiling joyfully at every inhabitant. The birds chirped, they seemed to understand the whole beauty of this day and sought to sing it, sought to decorate this already beautiful day, make it unbearably beautiful. Wherever you look, flowers bloomed everywhere. It was a beautiful smell from them, it was impossible to describe it, everyone who would try to do this would not have enough words. They smelled of joy. They smelled in the summer.
He walked home. On this day it was impossible to be sad, it would be an insult to everyone else, and he was joyful, cheerful, he wanted to sing, echoing the birds. It even seemed to him that if he pounds, then people would treat it with understanding, because, for sure, each of them felt the same in their souls.
The day was just beautiful. Today he went to the cinema with her. Let the film seemed to him another stupidity, it did not give a damn about it – next to her everything seemed beautiful. After the film, he escorted her home. Throughout the way, she affectionately chirped something. He nodded to her, smiled. Even a moment of parting was sweet, sweet from the knowledge that tomorrow he would see her again.
He got home. For all sorts of little things, like the painted walls of the entrance, he did not pay attention – nothing can be perfect, you need to rejoice at what is. Opening the door, he went into the house. The letting smell of pies penetrated his nostrils, literally screaming all the naturalness: “Go to the kitchen! Eat us, because you are so hungry!"In the kitchen, a quiet conversation of mom and dads was heard, as always discussed some adult nonsense.
He went to the kitchen. The first thing that caught his eye was a good, affectionate face of his mother, shocked when he entered. She baked pies, these divine delicious pies that he loved so much. Father sat at the table and read the newspaper. When he entered, dad put down the newspaper and looked good -naturedly at him. Next was the standard greeting ceremony, questions about business, mood, school. Such a cozy ceremony, such a home.
Then everyone sat down at the table and began to eat. For a while everyone ate silently, casting playful glances at each other. Then dad and mom began to discuss politics. He sat and listened to them, trying to understand something. It turned out not very. All talk about the revolution in Ukraine, about how other countries react to this, all this did not make any sense for him. He began to look around, looking for something more entertaining. Above the refrigerator, he saw a picture that they recently bought. It was called "Summer Knight". It depicts a tall, handsome man in sparkling, without a single scratch armor. There was a smile on his face, laughter froze in his eyes. In one hand he held a glass of wine, he laid the other on the hilt of a sword stuck in the ground. He liked this picture. He recalled how he played the knights in childhood, and in these games he always imagined himself.
After lunch, he went to his friend. Together they dug up the garden. He always came to his friend to help. After work, he was kindly treated to tea with cookies. Then he went home. He dedicated the rest of the day to his favorite book at home. After a long reading, he realized, looked at his watch and decided that it was time to sleep. There were many days of happy summer ahead.
The sun was shining. The luminary was a little dull, illuminating the faces of people, the faces are a little tired, wrapped in some sorrows, but still happy and joyful. Leaves fell from the trees. There was something sad in this. It was like a reminder that the summer was over. Rare clouds sailed across the sky, reflected in the puddles remaining after yesterday’s rain. The kids splashed joyfully in these puddles. Well, who had no worries.
He walked home and grand-ivy-casino.co.uk thought. Recently, everything has changed. The carefree days of summer ended, all sorts of worries and problems fell. Everything that was so pleased in the summer has now lost some important part of its charm. Everything seems to be just the same as it was before, but something is missing. As if a piece of the soul has disappeared from everything. From all: from the weather, from the sky, from the sun, from it, from her, from mom with dad, from home.
He shook his head, driving away anxiety, and smiled at a couple of oncoming people. They looked at him and smiled absentmindedly in response. Well, nothing, the main thing is that they smiled. Still, probably, it seems to him, and nothing has changed. Every day he sees with her. Isn’t that good? Although it has recently been some kind of loaded, always busy, and has to spend much less time with her than I would like. When he asks what was the matter, she only shakes her head and says that everything is in order. Well, okay. It doesn’t matter. The main thing is that he still sees her.
He went to the door of the entrance. It was covered with inscriptions, like runes. He shook his head reproachfully, opened the door, entered the porch, reached the door of his house and went. Entering, he immediately smelled of pies, the smell of teasing, beckoning, almost the same as in the summer. He smiled and went into the kitchen. Mom stood in the kitchen at the stove and cooked. Hearing the sound of his steps, she turned around, looked at him and smiled. From the smile of the wrinkles, which ran on her forehead, smoothed out, but fatigue from the eyes did not go away. Dad, sitting at the table and reading something concentrated on the phone, reacted to his entrance with a slight nod. This was followed by a standard greeting ceremony, questions, but the dad did not participate in it. He had some other more important things.
Next, everyone sat down at the table. During all this time, dad never threw his eyes off the phone, and in the movements of his mother, the tension was visible more than once and there was no former ease and relaxation. Something was wrong, but that he could not understand.
Having tried the pie, he frowned slightly. This fall, everything was not like in the summer, everything lost its former attractiveness. Even her pies.
Five minutes later, mom, not having reached her portion, apologized and said that she needed to lie down, she was too tired. On the way, she drank some kind of pill. He frowned even more. Left alone with his father, he tried to start a conversation, but his dad answered all his remarks either with a nod or was finished with general phrases. He was clearly not up to talk.
Finish his portion, he went to his room. Thinking about what to do, he called a friend. He did not pick up the phone. I did not take both on the second and on the third call. In disappointment, he hung up on the bed, then he lay down next to himself and took the book. After ten minutes of reading, he postponed her. Read to holes, she stopped bringing pleasure. Strange. Because before he always liked her so much, no matter what time he read her. Sorry.
He looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes. There are still many long autumn days ahead. But after all, they will someday end.
The sky was covered with clouds. Gray, as if lead, they hung over the city, bending longing and despondency to the inhabitants. Everything around was covered with dirty snow. The wind, like a predatory animal, rushed around the city, crushing with cruel frost into the faces of those whom he would meet. Snowflakes at a frantic speed dig into the faces of passers -by.
He traveled home. Glancing sadly around, he tiredly took a step by step and thought. Winter was not the best. Winter was bad. He even began to miss the fall, because after all then it was good. Albeit not like in the summer, let the joy with a shade of sadness, but it was. There was nothing like this this winter. And the longing on the fly was unbearable, it could not be conveyed in words. He saw those happy days in dreams. And now every day is becoming a test. With her, he is seen less and less, and those days when they are together can not always be called happy. They are increasingly starting to swear, he is constantly dissatisfied with her, she is constantly unhappy with him. They both have long missed something in each other. Perhaps the only thing that holds them together is the general memories of those happy summer days. And more fear. Fear of changes. Now there is some kind of stability. It is worth parting to them, and this stability will disappear. Then it will be unknown.
In a man who was once his best friend for him, he now also began to doubt. As if a certain veil, which did not allow him to see some things, had come off from his eyes. He began to notice that his friend is selfish, a little two -faced. Maybe he saw it before, just did not want to notice, deliberately closed his eyes on it. To be next to him no longer delivered any pleasure. On the contrary, a certain shade of contempt began to appear. But he was still in no hurry to tear all the relationship. Again, fear. Fear of unknown. Fear of loneliness.
He went to the door of his entrance. The entire door was scribbled, painted. On a bench, a homeless person slept extremely untidy. Under the bench was already a well -founded bottle of moonshine. The homeless suddenly opened his eyes and looked at him with a muddy gaze. Then muttered something slurred, tried to get up. I could not. Fell.
He shook his head and went into the porch. Once neat, he now clearly fell into decay.
He entered his home. It smelled of something holly. Obviously, dad tried to cook something. And again he did not succeed. He clearly had no predisposition to cooking. They did not have both. Those rare days when my mother was preparing, became a holiday. Unless, of course, there were fairly decent products.
From the bedroom came the energetic voice of his father. It seems that he convinced his mother that he could soon find a job, that soon everything would go in a way, that soon everything would be as before. He shook his head. This is not the first time dad said this. However, everything was getting even worse. It was heard weak, as if glass, mom’s voice. It seems she said that she believes in him.
He went to the bedroom. Father looked tiredly at him. Mom looked joyfully. She looked weaker than yesterday. Every day she became weaker. He could not understand how life still holds in such a weakened body.
Having greeted them with a brittle voice, he swallowed a lump formed in his throat and turned away. Mom should not see his tears. She never loved to see how he was crying. And in the current state, she cannot be worried. He hurriedly went into his room. He could not hold back his tears. Why is everything so? Why is everything so unfair? He is not a bad person! For what he is all? All these issues remained unnecessary. There was no one to ask them. There is no one who could answer all these questions. Except, perhaps God.
At the thought of God, he grinned bitterly. Then he decided to pray. He had never prayed before and did not know how to do it. There were no icons in the house either. Then his gaze fell on the picture hanging on the wall. "Summer Knight". Again grinning bitterly, he knelt in front of this picture, lowered his eyes and began to pray. He prayed that his mother recovered, so that dad would find a job, that a friend would become a friend again, so that everything was in order with her. He asked for summer to come again.
Well, the Summer Knight looked at him from the picture and continued to laugh. He was not up to these problems.
The sun was shining. Bright, friendly in the age, it shone from heaven, smiling joyfully at every inhabitant. The birds chirped, they seemed to understand the whole beauty of this day and sought to sing it, sought to decorate this already beautiful day, make it unbearably beautiful. Wherever you look, flowers bloomed everywhere. It was a beautiful smell from them, it was impossible to describe it, everyone who would try to do this would not have enough words. They smelled of joy. They smelled in the summer.
He stood dull at the stop, not knowing what to do. He absolutely did not want to go home. He didn’t want anything anymore. He looked at heaven. The day was good, very good, it was impossible to be sad on such a day, but it was sad. Recently, a good mood practically did not visit him. Only sadness, longing and loneliness followed him on the heels. Followed him at school, followed on the street, followed the houses, followed in dreams. It was impossible to hide from them anywhere.
He remembered the old times with a bitter grin. About the times when he was not so lone. About the times when he was happy.
In those days, he had her, the one who loved him so selflessly, the one that he loved so selflessly. They spent a lot of time together. We went to the cinema, to the park, just walked aimlessly, laughed, talked, gave funny and naive oaths to be always together. So it was at first. Then something began to change something. They began to spend less time. Less and less. Then they began to swear. More and more often. Then the times came when they both clung to the past, in the empty hope that it would return. Then she could not stand it. She left. Of those people who were dear to him, she first left him.
In those days, he had the best friend. He also spent a lot of time with him. They talked, always came to each other’s aid, fooling around, invented adventures of various kinds, at times fought. But then something changed too. His eyes opened, and he began to see in his friend what he had not noticed before. At first he endured this, suffered for a long time, but then he could not restrain himself and expressed all his thoughts. His friend left him.
In those days he had a mother. Always happy, always joyful, with all the love that her infinitely kind heart was capable of, took care of her son. He still remembered the taste of her pies, remembered her laughter, her smile, her hair. Then her health began to weaken. She began to weaken. Every day she was stolen, and no one could help her. He and the dad believed that everything would be fine, daily convinced her of this, she laughed and said that, of course, everything would be so. Then she left. Many people came to her funeral, everyone said good words, but he did not give a damn. He would burn all these people if it had returned his mother.
In those days he had a dad. Cheerful, good -natured, only sometimes strict, father also cared for him. I bought him toys, taught everything that I knew. His father had a lot of work, but he tried to devote as much time as possible to his son. Then he was fired from work because of some mistake. Father rushed from one end of the city to another to find a new job, but could not find. Only rare part -time jobs saved from complete poverty. However, the death of his mother finally broke him. He began to drink. At first only occasionally, then more and more. As a result, his good nature blurred and gave way to a creature that could not be called a father. This creature could not be called even a person.
So he was left by everyone who was dear to him. So he remained alone.
Having shook his head in the hope of dispersing gloomy thoughts, he headed home. Passing one store, he stopped. Something in the window attracted his attention. He looked at the window and saw the picture. This picture was apparently written by the same artist who wrote the "Summer Knight". The picture depicted a harsh warrior. His face was exhausted, fatigue was in his eyes, the skin was dotted with many scars obtained in countless fights. His armor could not be called ideal: there were scratches everywhere, gaps gaped in some places, blood was visible in places. A sword clamped in a whip of a whip was covered with Zazubins. The warrior stood against the backdrop of the snow forest, there was no youth of the Summer Knight, but it was clear that this is the same person. Now it was a knight of winter, a knight, for whom life is no longer a game or a fairy tale with a happy ending.
He shook his head and headed home. Entering the house, he heard the silence. Recently, he has always heard her. A moment later, the smell of alcohol hit the nostrils. There was a overturned bottle in the kitchen, from which the contents spilled out and now such sharp smells exuded. Having gone into the bedroom, he saw there a drunken father lying on the bed. He no longer remembered the last time he was talking to him.
Having had a hastily snack, he went to his room and sat on the bed. He knew: time came. Suddenly the memories of his prayer. Almost nothing was fulfilled. Summer came everywhere, but winter still reigned in his soul, and he knew: there would no longer be summer, no matter how much. Indeed, time has come. He had already been prepared for him. You need to seriously prepare for this step. He took a rope from under the bed, took a stool and headed for a hook specially driven into the ceiling. Having risen on a stool and putting on a loop on his neck, he remembered everyone who was dear to him: mom, dad, her friend. They all left. It’s time to leave and him.