Darina Grotto - Unlimited

‘Calm down. It’s ok. Go hanging out. Don’t think about me. I’m preparing to my philosophy exam and I seem to have over read about theocetricism… Don’t pay attention. When are you free?’

‘Ah, I forgot completely about your exams. When’s it gonna be? On 13 th? So, you’ll pass it and we’ll meet then right after it if you really don’t need me now.’

‘Deal. I’ll call you before it.’

‘Okay. So, I’m leaving. Don’t be upset, please. If anything happens, call me at once, I’ll come no matter what could happen.’

Vic smiled and hanged off the cell. Her eyes pierced into silent night ceiling. Whatever she imagined to herself, whatever she dreamt about, passion didn’t want to leave her alone. Fear of God absorbed her more and more. She was sure she had nothing to lose yet. Any Lord of the Highest would inflict her only for her chaotic thoughts of evil deeds.

Having turned half of the night, Victoria finally got asleep in the morning. She dreamt about nothing. There was only darkness. But her mind had a rest with no seeing merciless Kharon’s picture. Her mind planned nothing and wanted to delegate it to her subconsciousness. The subconsciousness used to exist on the level of a static chaos, that was one of its favourite deeds.

10

th

June 2013 (Monday)

It was about 11 am when Victoria woke up and immediately got the mystic figure into her consciousness.

Having no thoughts of taking a shower, combing, having breakfast, the girl rushed to the laptop. She was carefully looking for the information about incubi and succubi, God and angels. She didn’t understand what exactly she was looking for, but all her inward nature was yearning.

‘Doesn’t fit, no…’ Vic whispered, crazily jumping from page to page. ‘No. Nonsense. Rubbish. It can’t be. Never believe…’

After an hour and a half of searching Victoria could calm herself down: she wasn’t crazy, and insanity didn’t threaten her. There were a lot of stories on internet whose authors hardly could be called of sound mind. Despite of that the girl had face the demon and his abilities personally she couldn’t believe in what was written on web-sites.

Suddenly among the piles of advice, stories and spells, Vic saw a black angel icon, often appeared, whose owner commented each site, mocking at those or other comments.

‘That’s interesting now’ the girl clicked the link and turned out to be in the personal profile of a man, called himself as a “magician”.

Vic sent him a message and was about to run to the bathroom when the laptop sounded in an intriguing way.

Unknown Person: “What’re you looking for?”

Victoria: “For something that will help me to keep near a demon or…to make him run my commands.”

Vic texted and looked at the screen. Ten minutes passed but there was no answer and being upset the girl went to freshen up.

Olga Vladimirovna was at work, the flat was empty. At such moments Vic felt free. Nobody watched what she did, what she ate, how she washed herself, why she did that. There was no needless advice.

Having backed to the room with breakfast and tea Vic sat down with a flop before the laptop. There was a little envelope on the semi-dark screen, exhorting to open it. She wasn’t long in coming.

Unknown Person: “A demon? What demon? There is a special spell for each level demon. Indeed, tiding up a demon is a dangerous idea.”

The girl shrugged her shoulders and texted an answer.

Victoria: “Why?”

Unknown Person: “Because there is no spell which can untie a demon. You tie him to yourself for all your life.”

Having read the message Victoria got happy. She was ready to spend her life with Kharon, she believed that her life began only when he was with her.

Victoria: “I don’t see any danger.”

Unknown Person: “Then you’re another idiot from sites who believes in magic and fairy tales. Put your thinking-cap on, what a demon would like to be tied to?

Victoria: “What can he do?”

The girl was silently looking at screen and waiting for the intriguing strange to answer.

Unknown Person: “Eat away at nerves. Kill. Do in. Anything rather than to get rid of. And he can get rid of if you’re dead.”

Vic frowned. Not a good perspective cropped up. She didn’t really want to be killed by the demon. She dreamt to be loved by him and not only at nights. But she couldn’t make up how to hold featherbrained Kharon near herself.

Victoria: “Can you send me the spell?”

Ignoring all the warnings Vic hoped in her heart to get the spell. Having seen the person texting her heart started madly beating, having some pleasure in fabulous future.

Unknown Person: “I didn’t get what demon you need?”

The girl sighed. She didn’t want to tell a stranger that her heart craved for tiding an incubus to herself. Feeling of shame pinched her throat from time to time.

Vic turned to the window and pursed her mouth thinking how to get the necessary spell.

Victoria: “There’s no special demon. I just wanted to read spells and find out what and how to do. Study information as it were. For example, how to tie an incubus to…”

Victoria sent the message and, full of hope, stared at the screen. Fifteen minutes later the stranger sent no answer.

‘Shit!’ the girl used a vulgarity and was about to switch off the laptop as another envelope appeared on the screen.

Unknown Person: “Incubus? This is the most foolish idea that I’ve ever heard. If you wanna study demons, first of all you’d buy the book “Demonology”. There are all the demon descriptions. Read Crowley, LaVey, Lemegeton. Secondly, there’s a very rare book written in Old English with no date nor title. There are spells about succubi and incubi. I’ve got it. I can scan it…not for free.”

Victoria read the message couple of times. Old English. How was it possible to read such book? What book was that? No date, no title.

Victoria: “Not for free – how much then?”

Unknown Person: “Ten thousand.”

The girl opened her eyes wide. Was the stranger in his right mind to fix the price?

Victoria: “It’s too much. I don’t have so much money.”

Unknown Person: “The information inside of this book costs much more. I fixed too loyal price. I’m sorry, but I can’t sell it cheaper.”

Victoria closed the laptop with anger and crossed her arms on breast. “I can’t sell it cheaper.” It irritated so much. Why did it cost so much? Why did she have no money at just the right time? Damn piece of injustice.

There was cold for some time breakfast and tea. Vic was sitting in the same pose and thought hot to get the cursed spell. Then she jumped up, dressed and rushed to The Russian State Library. There should be some data there, at least? Anything.

Vic was walking along The Garden Ring Road, turned to The Arbat Street and in twenty minutes later she should come up to the library.

The crowd met her halfway. Smiling tourists were examining the architecture and took photos of it. Expensive foreign cars flew by, filling the street with deafening growl. Funny pigeons ran over the road and picked up glums, trying to swallow with gluttony and with no epicurism understanding. There was dust in the air, shone in the sun rays. The breeze moved it in and out. Whitish planes glowed the sky, leaving the ghost traces. The world kept on living. It didn’t care about a soul, that lost its way, as well as university didn’t think of it. Nobody wants to take part in giving instructions except parents, but they do it in so uninteresting and dull way that children don’t want to listen to them. Life goes on. No matter what happens, no matter to whom it happens, life is here! It takes its course.

People speak different languages everywhere. People laugh, people cry. People sit on the asphalt road, hats are near them where defaulted throw-money is. People sing, draw, pretend to be robots, sell and gad about. They are at The Arbat.

Victoria was moving along the well-known narrow street, having decided to get any information about demons.

‘Hey, girl!’ a young Gypsy took her hand. ‘I read your hand and you give me what you don’t need.’

‘No!’ Vic said roughly, getting her hand out of strong grasp. ‘I’m not interested. Thanks.’

The Gypsy frowned.

‘A cross is on you.’ The Gypsy said and let her hand.

Victoria stopped and turned to the Gypsy.

‘Cross?’ she asked scarcely. ‘I’ve got one thousand roubles. Tell me.’

The Gypsy came up to the girl, took her hand and stared at the palm.

‘Here is money.’ Victoria took the piece of paper folded in half.

The Gypsy was gazing at the cover with lines palm. More than ten minutes passed before she started speaking.

‘The hell is following you, love.’ She whispered. ‘Take away your money. I can’t see your future.’

‘What do you mean you can’t see my future?’ Victoria pricked up her ears.

‘The cross on you is a crossway where you are now. You must take one of suggested ways then I’ll be able to see your future. But now you’re standing at gaze as another one. Your future isn’t definite.

‘What do you mean the hell is following me?’

‘A crossway is always bad and strong omen, symbolizing sinister forces. It means you’ve been suggested a choice and your task is to make a right one. The hell usually gives a chance to choose. If you’re on the crossway and standing at gaze it means only one thing – you’ve been stirred into action.’

Victory almost stopped breathing. It is terrible when a stranger says that hell is interested in you. Of course, it’s terrible. Head is whispering with no stop that it can’t be. Empirical materialism denies every remarkability, idea, molecule and atom that can’t be caught. Common sense. How often do you call for it? There is only one steadfast faith – the faith in own common sense. If it starts frustrating, surrender people see it and label you an insane.

Victoria wanted to dream that someone was sophisticatedly kidding her, but circumstances didn’t allow.

‘Where should I step?’ Vic muttered, giving the money to the Gypsy.

‘No, love, you can’t buy this. I’m not ready to travel this path for you. It must be your choice. I don’t need the money of the person whom the cross is on.’

The Gypsy shook her head and kept on calling people, promising to read their hands.

Being devastated and lost, Victoria was following with her eyes the Gypsy. Her feeling ran high. For a while she lost the thought of Kharon, of his indescribable beauty, of his mind-blowing embracing, of lips, kisses which she would be hardly capable of forgetting.

“This is not me who it happens to. No. I don’t believe…” Victoria persuaded herself being the centre middle of Moscow… Life went on around.

Suddenly Vic realized herself to be at The Arbat. There is one of the biggest book stalls there in Moscow. Alcoholics sold rare books for a song. Without a moment hesitation the girl went ahead, looking for books.

Sellers of different knowledge were not so far. There was an aisle full of huge pile of books. They were coloured, gray, doomy, thick and thin, flabby and new, unpresentable and those you could hardly force your eyes away from.