Personally, Leonid Ilyich early 80s …

Personally Leonid Ilyich early 80s the Military Outpost in a small Northern located in a vast snowy plains in the Summer came white night, the snow was melting, and the plain was transformed into the mossy boggy swamp, which it was impossible to step without rubber boots Even tractors stuck in it so that had to pull on the rope the other two tractors I have seen Gnats fly in such dense swarms that literally blotted out the sun with the onset of summer the first couple of weeks, going outside, I furiously itched, and my skin resembled that of a patient with eczema or something worse; and then became still, in response to the bite of another reptile I just waved feebly But it was in the summer And what I want to tell you, occurred in the winter, when everything around was turned into a barren white wasteland can Even name a specific date — November 15, 1982, the glory of Wikipedia when I was five years old My family lived in a dilapidated wooden hut on the outskirts of the Outpost, district heating was not — stoked with coal, a bunch of the black mountain which stood near our dwelling Father for days lost in the service, his mother worked as a teacher in the local school — it turns out that I six days a week during the first half of the day remained the house in Winter to play outside alone I was forbidden — was afraid that will go into the tundra (there were cases among the local children), or on the outskirts of the settlement wanders predators (also happened) In my daily duties was to close the latch of the chimney when the coals in the furnace finally burned down to keep warmth in the house and pick up a warm fragrant bread from the bakery, which carried the military “UAZ” to the families of the servants and left in special boxes, like mail next to houses as a Kid, I was calm, without Sheila in the ass, so parents were afraid to leave me alone that day on the street was the strongest storm Wind howled almost with a human , snowflakes slapped the window of our barracks and halfway up I saw through the gaps, as the smoke from the chimney the wind literally nailed to the ground Such weather was not uncommon in those parts, and panic I felt I knew that at any moment the power goes out — this, too, was nothing out of the ordinary in the meantime, I just rode down the corridor on given to me last New year children’s tricycle, made us fight painted wooden soldiers, throwing ball on the wall and he caught — in , they entertained themselves, how could a TV that was in our parents room, as usual, worked mother always had it on before his departure, apparently so I don’t feel lonely on that day both channels of the Central television broadcast the most important event — the funeral of Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee Leonid Brezhnev On the occasion of the country was mourning, but the military is not spread, and the mother was attracted to the organization of polymerupdate among schoolchildren, dedicated to the death of an elderly Secretary, so again I was home alone at First, I didn’t really understand what’s on TV instead of the usual entertainment, and I didn’t care But gradually the stream caught my attention the Grim solemnity the events inspired the idea something very important, tragic, maybe, irreparable Brezhnev I knew it was the “grandfather of television”, a familiar and permanent attribute of the child’s life as my mother’s soup on Sundays Looking at his large portraits, which carried the military led the procession, at first I thought that the grandfather will again start to read from the paper, as usual, But instead I saw him lying in a coffin with his eyes closed at First, it seemed to me that Brezhnev just sleeping, but the sad orchestra, performing Chopin’s March, the harsh faces and the strange immobility of Brezhnev given to understand that something terrible has happened and irreparable Before that, I had no idea what the death of my loved ones and friends no one has died since that cold day sitting in front of tiny by today’s standards a screen on which ran a ripple of noise, I first came into contact with death standing on my knees at the TV and cried excitedly I felt sorry for Brezhnev which never rise to the podium and not read the paper — but even more, I spared myself and my parents Incomprehensible children’s intuition, I realized that what happened with Brezhnev, applies to everyone, and sooner or later I’m going to lie as motionless and unfeeling, and people will silently carry my portraits, and will play this creepy slow music in time with my parents will happen the same thing I filled sharp as a razor blade, the horror of realizing your own mortality When the coffin began to be lowered into an open grave, under sounds of the anthem, and I did almost mad with fear: how so? why do they do it? why praise a man first, and then immediately lowered it into the ground and throw the earth? It was beyond my comprehension, I was listening to broaching the whistles of factories, was sitting on the floor and cried, wiping his palms wet cheeks, and my sobs echoed raging Blizzard does Not what was the reaction of the mother who returned from work after finding I’d been weeping — and maybe I had the time to pull yourself together Children are capable of very intense feelings, but at the same time can just as quickly forget it’s possible that I forgot my sadness at departing the land to the Secretary General and the primitive horror I experienced that snowy day For some time, It occurred at the beginning of next year, a few months after magnificent funeral After the usual day the father goes to the barracks, the mother cooks risotto — I went to bed Asleep without incident, but woke up in the middle of the night in tears I dreamt again I see those memorial funeral — only this time I was present on the other side of the screen I went along with the procession somewhere in the second rows of the Orchestra played Chopin, the people were silent, were burning the flags and banners, the Kremlin wall was reminiscent of the blood by its color, at First it wasn’t scary, I perceived the events detached from himself, as often happens in dreams — “I’m not” But then began the descent of the coffin into the grave, and I was suddenly close beside him, just steps away from the Coffin was not closed Brezhnev was staring at me with This look was the look not the person, and some otherworldly beings, perhaps death, And while the coffin was moving deeper into the tomb, the General Secretary was turned eyeballs holding this terrible look on me, My terror reached a peak, and I woke up screaming and crying, the lights went on, the mother ran up to me and began to calm, and I was shaking, unable to calm down after a shrill inhuman sight Father did not return from service To inventory in the depot, he suddenly complained of dizziness, sat down on the nearest box, grabbed the whiskey and on the floor the Diagnosis — cerebral aneurysm come True, the most terrible nightmare of my childhood — I had to go to the real funeral, to see a loved one in a coffin and as he was being taken to the cemetery under the piercing honking horns, holding a large portrait of the deceased in the of the procession When his father died, my mother moved to her native Yekaterinburg three years later she remarried my Stepfather filled the collar, although he was a good man and I was not offended However, completely trusting relationship with him I have not installed I went to regular high school, was walking with the boys in the yards, fighting, pulling girls ‘ pigtails, cheated on a test — in General, lived a rich school life I made friends, whom I cared about and was ready for them to go at all, even on a fight with the main bug school with obviously the slightest chance of One of the friends I had red Serge, who lived two houses down from me, We both went to school and Studied it better than me and more than once saved the situation when I could not (or would not) do the homework the Parents had belonged to the nomenclature, which at that time still had influence (although the Humpback has led the attack on all fronts), so earrings were often scarce different Goodies, which he generously shared with me in the Spring, when I finished third grade, a familiar , repeated itself As if it was not past years — I again distinctly saw teeth on the walls of the Kremlin, the grim faces of the Politburo members (most of whom by that time were themselves in that light), shoulder straps and cap, heard a mournful melody And again, as before, appeared beside the coffin of the former ruler of the country, I stood even closer to him than last time, Brezhnev has again raised the old man’s eyelids and stared at me with a look of creatures from the edges, on which a person is not supposed to know anything And again I woke up shivering and sweat, but this time without shouting until Nearly dawn I roll from side to side, but I couldn’t sleep the next day Sergei, when he went to the art club, was hit by a car at the intersection Since it happened — the nightmare of childhood haunts me every time on the eve of the tragedy with any of my family or friends Thank God this happens not so often: in all the years after the death of Sergey sleep visited me only three times In the first time died, another good friend of mine (a robbery on the street in dashing 90-e, he began to resist, and geeks shot from the shotgun in his face), and secondly — my girlfriend at the time (the infamous plane crash near Irkutsk in 2001), the third mother (this was to be expected, she was hopeless cirrhosis and she was in the hospital, but had a just before her death) it is Impossible to tell what I felt each time, waking up and realizing that would be a tragedy, but not having a clue how, where and with whom from dozens of people close to me and then, it seems to me that their death in any case was predetermined and inevitable, even if I immediately upon waking I called everyone and warned the creature, whose eyes rested on me, their routes and methods which mortals to foresee and prevent the what is — each time I am closer to that damn coffin the night before his mother’s death, I stood literally on the brink of the grave, twenty centimeters to the failure remained And I think I know what will happen in the last time under my feet in a are not raw earth, and the emptiness that’s my story Honestly, I find it difficult to find meaning or morality Unless we can assume that one day in the far North, when I watched the funeral of General Secretary, my is childish horror of the inevitability of death somehow threw the connection between my recollection and mystical feeling of closeness old woman with a scythe So was the result of circumstances, which for me is a symbol of impending disaster was “personally Leonid Ilyich”


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