Ezoosmos. Anastasia Novykh

they were sitting, when suddenly Valera approached him. He began helping him to untangle the fishing-line, using the torch for highlighting. It was obvious that the guy wanted to ask something, but wouldn’t dare. Seeing his hesitation, Sensei said genially, “Is there anything you’d like to ask?”

      Valera got a little shy and said after a short pause, “Yes… Does God really exist?”

      Sensei looked at him attentively.

      “Are you sure you’re ready to hear the answer? It might change your entire life,” and, having been silent for a while, he added, “If you’re simply interested in this subject, there are plenty of books published, just get them and read. Here, there is the priest sitting who’s a good interlocutor as well.”

      Valera looked straight into Sensei’s eyes.

      “It’s not a mere interest for me. I’m ready to hear the answer from you.”

      “Yes,” Sensei responded affirmatively. “God does exist.”

* * *

      The night was slowly turning over its position, giving away to the dawn. Darkness was replaced with dampness which, like an apprentice practicing painting, first drew a slipshod sketch of a general plan of the nature contours, and then thoroughly set to draw every smallest detail with is “pencil”. The picture was gradually becoming more distinct, the shades were turning further more contrasting. Soon, the dawn itself as the main artist got down to work, painting the ready sketch with a manifold scale of colors. Birds started to perform their usual morning ritual, filling everything around with their harmonious singing. And, all of a sudden, in the middle of that wonderful melody, there rang out such a chaotic sound resembling the roar of a bear awakened in winter that the frightened birds lapsed into silence all at once.

      Everything happened as follows… Eugene got cold-bitten in his sleeping-bag and woke up of an unusual feeling as if his body was in an uncomfortable position. He tried to open his eyes, but surprisingly saw only impenetrable darkness. Drowsy, not being aware of anything, he decided to turn over to another side, believing he was having a dream. Instead, however, he only managed to make some strange budging, as if something was firmly holding him. At that moment, his panic-struck consciousness started working towards complete awakening. The guy suddenly understood that his hands were tied in front of him, a mask was covering his eyes, and the sleeping-bag was tightly corded to his ankles. Yet, the main thing was that his legs were handing up while his head and the upper part of his back were resting against something soft.

      Eugene’s sleepiness immediately vanished. He started wriggling strongly, attempting to free himself of the unexpected captivity. With each movement the “pillow” under his head was becoming further lower as if it was sinking. Moreover, something little and tickling started to creep all over Eugene’s face and neck, and to bite his body parts aggressively without distinction. As soon as the guy, with his hands tied, managed to tear off the mask which had appeared on his eyes during his sweet sleep no one knew from where, and to unzip his sleeping-bag, he saw the total horror of the situation. The sleeping-bag in the foot area was corded with a rope tied in such an intricate knot which was got further more tightened with each movement of the body. The rope itself was attached to a thick bough of “the best tree on the forest meadow”, while his head appeared to be leaning against a big ant hill. Endeavoring to free himself, Eugene had involuntarily scattered the upper part of the hill, and hordes of tiny warriors immediately rushed to attack the offender of their house. The guy started to wave his tied hands, trying to flap away his “yesterday’s allies”, but thus he only worsened his “tickling state”.

      In silence of the dormant nature there resounded round oaths assigned for those who had hit upon such a joke. The voice of a “roaring bear” alarmed the entire camp like a sudden banshee. Drowsy guys with eyes crazy of the unexpected interruption of their sleep leaped out of their tents and cars. Meanwhile Eugene was attempting to unshackle himself, showing fair slipping-out mastery and demonstrating the power of his pumped abdomen. His thoughts were strenuously oriented to the special operations group members whom he suspected of the trick. Who else could fasten such wrecker knots so professionally? It surely couldn’t be the priest. And it could hardly be anyone of Sensei’s disciples, because there were completely different people and totally different relations among them.

      Oddly so say, the special operations group was the first to come to Eugene’s rescue. His liberation was accompanied with such wild emotions from both sides that all other campers gathered on the meadow. Nikolai Andreevich and Sensei came up as well. Later Vano joined, strangely having a much fresher appearance than everybody other. For Sensei it was quite enough to glance at his childhood friend to clearly see what had happened. He smiled, gravely sighed, shook his head reproachfully and turned his eyes away. While Eugene like a koala bear was taken down the tree, and Volodya was jestingly convincing that his guys had nothing to do with the trick, everybody completely woke up. Most interestingly, it was five a.m. sharp, i.e. exactly the “getting-up time” promised by Father John the day before. Vano hurried to laugh off with a joke that it’s a mere random coincidence.

      When the general fuss had abated, and everyone got occupied with one’s morning toilet, to his great surprise, in addition to all the “pleasures” of his awakening, Eugene discovered granulated sugar in his “sweet drowse” (his sleeping-bag). And, all of a sudden, it dawned upon him who had been the author and the performer of the cruel plan, of the abrupt impingement upon his precious person. Not hesitating for even a minute, with his arms put akimbo, Eugene resolutely approached Vano who was squatting down on the river bank at that moment, adjusting his fishing tackle. Remembering his last day’s flight well enough, to be on the safe side, Eugene stopped at a certain distance from the priest.

      “So, it’s you?! It’s been you who has arranged a “sweet morning” for me!” Eugene shouted accusatorily as if he was a public prosecutor.

      “I listen to you attentively, son,” Father John uttered with his inimitable smile.

      “How could you?! I’ve recognized my guilt, I’ve honestly and industriously washed off my “sins”, where as you!.. These are ants, man! They are predators! What if they’d wormed into my ears or my nose?! They could.., they could…” Eugene wasn’t able to find appropriate words to express his indignation. “Eat my brain!”

      “Brain?!” Father John wondered and genially added, “Don’t grieve, my son, nothing like this may threaten you. And, as for the sins washing-off…” a merry zest gleamed in Vano’s eyes. “Well, if you insist…”

      “Me?! I…”

      Eugene didn’t even have time to blather in response when Father John adroitly caught the guy’s waving hand and easily threw him over in the air, applying fighting aikido elements. At that, he managed to flip Eugene’s body in such a way that it flew off to the water couple meters from the bank. The guy fell down into the river heavily like a weighty sack, accompanying his drop not only splashes, but with whole fluvial “tsunami”. When Eugene emerged in horror, his first exclamation was, “What for?!”

      Father John grinned and answered as of nothing had happened, “You see, son, I’ve returned the favor, too. I’ve washed you clean with the holy water from feet to head.”

      “Inquisitor! Souls’ oppressor! But the water is so cold. It’s like in hell here…”

      “In hell?! It is such a trifle compared to the real hell. You cannot even imagine what some of such floundering “waterfowls” will face there…” Father John started frightening the company with his black humor.

      The entire scene made all spectators laugh, while Sensei was looking at the stirred water from the steep bank and shaking his head, “These saboteurs have scared away the very last fish. Apology for such fishermen…”

* * *

      The morning turned out to be marvelous. The weather was nice and quiet. Everything would have been perfect, except for the fact big fish wasn’t biting as before. Oddly to say, Father John sat on the bank to fish together with Eugene, although they kept teasing each other all the time. To put it more precisely, Father John set to fish while Eugene started assisting him, pinning fishing “delicacies” onto the fish-hook. The guy got so imbued with