Tales of Ghosts. Playing Another Reality. Edgar Allan Poe award. Alexandra Kryuchkova

go somewhere else,” Vitaly suggested calmly, which made me furious.

      “Somewhere else, where is that? I have no time to apply for a visa!”

      “Go to visa-free Turkey.”

      Oh, I wished he hadn’t even mentioned Turkey to me! I turned white with anger!

      “Turkey? Where you have been relaxing with your wife for so many years? So that, lying alone on the beach, I couldn’t help imagining how sweet it was for you both there?!”

      “Lara, darling! I could tell you to come and stay with me in London, but I will work from morning to night, and you’ll get bored. You’ve just returned from London! Besides, I will live not in London, but in a town about forty minutes away from London by train. In a single room at a local hotel with English breakfasts included only. I figured out how much your visit will cost. It’s very expensive for you to travel to London every day instead of waiting for me in a bare field, to have lunch and dinner, plus the extra charge for a double room. You know how small are rooms in Britain, and the flight is not a penny! I can neither pay for you, nor let you pay yourself, because it’s a throwing money away! By the way, there’s an abnormal heat in London now. People are bathing in fountains! You say you can’t stand the heat. To come to London for a week just to stay with me for a weekend, bathing in fountains?! Remember, it’s bad luck to come back!”

      Despair overwhelmed me, and tears were ready to come out from my eyes. I jumped up from the table, threw my napkin into the bowl of my favorite fruit salad.

      “I hate London! I hate it! HATE!!!” I shouted.

      Deathly silence reigned around. Everyone froze, including the waiter with a cup of espresso, he was about to put on our table.

      I grabbed my bag and, noticing nobody on the way, headed for the exit.

      ***

      I traded a fortnight vacation in Paradise for a weekend with Vitaly in London, landing at Heathrow airport on Friday night.

      As soon as I switched on the phone, the bell rang.

      “Lara…” Vitaly said as doomed, “I’ve been called away to their office on the weekend… I’ll come in London to see you tomorrow night, okay?”

      I traded a fortnight vacation in Paradise for one night with him in London.

      ***

      On Saturday, around lunchtime, I sadly looked at myself, collapsed into the fountain of Trafalgar Square at +40C.

      People didn’t even realize that I felt sick from the heat… and that I was no longer there… I thought, “Truly, it’s bad luck to come back!”

      What did I trade my life for?

      Can we say that it was Vitaly who killed me?

      ***

      Vitaly died in a car crash at midnight between that damn Saturday and Sunday, almost reaching London. He fell asleep driving…

      Did he trade his life for a night with me?

      No, it was me who killed him…

      ***

      On Sunday… we sat for a long time on the banks of the Thames, making a plan to which countries we would fly without any visa before disappearing forever…

July 2003

      13. A Guest

      It was raining cats and dogs outside. A girl in a dark cloak with a huge hood was standing at the door to my neighbor’s flat. Her long black curls hid her profile from me.

      “He won’t open the door for you,” I said.

      The girl shuddered and turned around. She was beautiful. In particular, I remembered the black-night eyes that stood out against her snow-white skin.

      “My neighbor died yesterday,” I continued. “Poor old man… You must be his granddaughter! He said he had been waiting for his granddaughter. What a pity you’re late! He loved you very much, he was proud of and constantly talking about you. You know, it’s important for old people to feel that someone needs them…”

      The girl sighed, but said nothing in response.

      “Come to my place, you’ve got wet,” I suggested, and she followed me into the kitchen.

      “No, thank you,” the girl refused my tea, “I’ll just warm up a bit and then I’ll go…”

      “What’s your name? Do you have someone else here, besides grandfather?”

      “No, I don’t have anyone,” she sighed sadly, “even friends.”

      “You are so young and beautiful! You still have a lot ahead of you! The main thing is not to make enemies!”

      “Enemies…” my interlocutor said thoughtfully. “I’m not as young as you think. You can’t imagine how tired I am of my life! I work seven days a week, not a minute to rest. Here, for once, I allowed myself to come to you, but then… People make up stories about me, they try in every possible way to avoid me, bypassing, while I’m not at all what they think of me…”

      “What do you do?”

      “I help people. However, Good in this world is often mistaken for Evil, so I am doomed to human hatred. If they only knew how much I envy them!”

      “Why?”

      “At least because their life is varied and interesting, it’s tasty, you know! They can feel it with every fiber of their souls and enjoy earthly pleasures to the fullest! I can’t do that. I’m not fit… There’s no person on Earth who is so lonely! I’m tired of life. I feel like a restless ghost who can’t die.”

      “Listen to me, my dear! We often curse life and wish we were dead. But when Death suddenly appears on our doorstep, we realize that life is short, and it must be appreciated, because sooner or later Death will surely come for you too…”

      “For me?” the girl asked thoughtfully.

      The dog began howling in the flat of the deceased neighbor.

      “Poor dog!” I sighed. “His devoted friend!”

      “I have to go!” my guest exclaimed and got up. “I’m already late!”

      “Where are you going now?” I wondered, following her to the corridor.

      The girl looked at the door of the neighbor’s flat.

      “I was there yesterday,” she whispered, “but I forgot to take with me his devoted friend…”

September 30, 1997

      Part II.The MASTER of FATES

      0. Exceptions

      Suddenly I felt someone’s gaze on me. I turned around and saw an Angel.

      “Hello,” I whispered. “Have you come for me?”

      “Yes,” he nodded.

      “The bonfire stories are still going on,” I tried to protest, as I felt cozy in the fog that hid the faces of the storytellers, and I was about to share my own.

      “Don’t be upset!” the Angel smiled as he read my mind. “The bonfire won’t go out for a long time, and stories will follow each other until the last soul leaves the Earth. Now you have to go.”

      I looked at the Man. For some reason, I didn’t want