He decided to find a childhood friend, and at least incognito, but have time to tell him a couple of warm words. The movie theater was close to the border between the city center and the park area that separates it from the area where, according to Lis, they make the most delicious cupcakes. Despite the relative distance, he reached the cinema in less than an hour. The location of the cinema far from the main streets gave hope that Charlie would never even accidentally see the Circus Troupe and would not be at the mercy of the Man in the Mask. Finding a best friend turned out to be a difficult task, since it was too dangerous to openly ask everyone you met about him. And the assistant projectionist himself was in no hurry to show himself to all the visitors of the cinema. “A very important worker, but so inconspicuous!” Alex sighed as he walked past the doors marked "Staff Only" in the hope that luck would smile on him and for some reason a friend would show up in the common hallway.

I remember our family calling us the "Mad Four". I remember our serene days. Yes, we did not create anything reasonable, good or eternal, but, on the other hand, we never harmed anyone. Every day in this Cursed City, I ask myself: what terrible thing have we done to deserve such a punishment? Is naivety so severely punished now? Or are we just unlucky? Wrong time, wrong place?At first I felt how They were sneaking somewhere invisibly, approaching my mind from within. How they test us for strength, study them, in order to then poison us with fear, enjoying its taste in our minds. I thought it was the worst.Later, I saw the dead face of my best friend lying on the stones of Istanbul. It was imprinted in my memory like a red-hot brand. It felt like part of my heart had been torn out of my chest. I was sure that I would not experience more grief.Already in the City itself, Ghoul's five razor-sharp claws ripped open my right side, only miraculously not touching the internal organs. Blee

She smiled approvingly and, during breakfast, briefly introduced me to the products of the shop, promising that evening tea would correct all misunderstandings, and the old life would become a terrible dream on the way to a new carefree life. I was too crushed by the troubles that fell on our heads, I barely felt alive, I did not have the strength to doubt the words of a kind woman. I nodded and believed that everything would be as she says.The day passed quietly. Later I noted that all Saturdays are calm. People come for the usual teas, ointments and creams. There are not very many clients, there is time to relax, and from lunch until almost the evening - to take a calm nap.Claudia rushed to the closing, disheveled and angry, like an owl on the hunt. The sight of her added a few more coins to my panic bank, but she quickly regained her composure, smiling sweetly and patting my cheek as if I were her great-niece, and announced:“I’ll make tea for you, it will be stronger and taste c

Nobody could remember my name for more than a day, but, fortunately, the tailor kept records by numbers known only to him, and did not enter names in his account books. Soon my real gothic outfits were replaced with pseudo-gothic dresses. A more modern cut and fewer trim elements, but they looked quite organic in the city. The length from the knee to the middle of the calf did not restrict movement and allowed you to run without fear of falling. Having changed my wardrobe, I noted with satisfaction that for the first time I did not look like a mummer. And without stones in the garden of Claudia - the boss herself favorably accepted my new wardrobe, which does not violate the foundations of the old Lavka.However, even my survival resources were finite. I understood this, as well as the fact that Claudia's constant failures in preparing the tea needed according to the recipe lead to only one final. They will get to me. It may take them months, but they won't leave me."I don't want to

I open my eyes and try to move my arms. Alas, this is the cruel tradition of my nightmares: the wrists are tightly tied to the metal bars of the wrought-iron headboard of the old bed. Hands are extremely divorced to the sides, shoulders are already buzzing. I know that this is only a dream, that this is only a nightmare, but my lips whisper by themselves:- Mother! Mommy! - I sob, the picture floats before my eyes, and hot tears painfully disturb the weathered skin on my cheeks.“Please, please, I want this to end! I beg! No need! Let go! RELEASE! Anything but NOT THIS!!!" I want to scream.This is one of my worst nightmares. Alas, in recent months he has been my frequent visitor. A dream about a small fragile girl tied to a bed, half-sitting on an old mattress and waiting for her kidnapper. Oh, the irony of our notion of monsters, this is a normal middle-aged man with a receding hairline. He seems kind and helpful.He “even” feeds and washes the girl, takes her to the toilet and read