On The Wings of Hope : Prose

Puts installation disk on the unremarkable stone shrine, and makes a holy circular detour. After that sits down in a pose of a lotus and begins his meditation. After ten-hour meditation comes to his senses, softly puts a disk in a drive and launches installation process. Dives into meditation again, while the installation process goes on. After fifteen-hour meditation comes to his senses and sees, that the system cannot continue the installation process because of a necessity to press Any Key for process’s continuation. Presses Any Key, and once again plunges himself into meditation. After three-hour meditation returns to this world once again, and sees, that system has hung up. Having overcome an internal impulse of anger of his essence, starts installation anew, and sits down to meditate. After fifteen-hours meditation sees, that the system asks him to press Any Key once again. Again presses Any Key and plunges himself into meditation. After three-hour meditation comes back to this world once more only to observe that the system has hung yet again. Repeatedly having overcome an internal impulse of anger of his essence, starts all process (including meditation) anew. After twentyfold repetition of a situation as last enrages and demonstrates finesse of kickboxing to a computer. Becomes satisfied only when there is not even a smallest object, which have a dent from his fists, left, - and then sits down to meditate once again, as always.

29.10.2010

The history of one duel

Sir Harold was waiting for his ultimate hour. He moved backwards and forwards on the chilled ground, periodically tapping iron armoring of his shield with a sword, but even he, who has passed through tens of tournaments with live contenders, was feeling like a fish out of water. Once again he checked up his equipment, tightly pulled down his helmet, already fairly well sitting on his head, reexamined mobility of forearms plates and armor joints, silently sworn to himself under a nose, unsuccessfully trying to fix up a slipped right steel boot, and, at the long last, as if having become happy with a recent audit, stopped, raised a prepared shield higher on a shoulder and pinned the ground with his sword with all possible strength, having leant the elbows on a similarity of newly made armrest. Sir Harold was left with little options left, except for waiting - because this place, thought consecrated, yet nevertheless keeping some ominous silence, could brag with nothing else, except for a pair hundreds of tombs, stretched through its territory in rows.

His beloved, fine maiden Angelina, could show her face in any minute ...

* * *

Today sir William was in an excellent spiritual mood, caused not even by those two liters of fine red wine, which he, excited with contemplation of bared female legs, has had to consume for the sake of both heart, mind and liver shortly after the beginning of a ball, by mainly by the comprehension, which has already become slightly vague, that today, in this blessed by the monarch day, his luck at last has smiled upon him. The daughter of a local count, who has organized this oh-so-hot (e-e-c!) celebration, fine maiden Angelina, after would-to-be-seem totally unsuccessful month of courting, wheezing of serenades and painfully senseless standing under the windows at last has given her consent to their personal meeting, which she unambiguously named as appointment. And almost everything would be plainly remarkable, if (e-e-c!) she had not chosen rather strange place for aforementioned meeting, being inspired by that mysterious female wisdom of sorts. No, most certainly fearless sir William wasn’t afraid of any dead persons, dead men, deceased ones, zombies, skeletons and all their ilk, especially this very moment of time, greatly encouraged by a third finished bottle, but, nevertheless, to choose a cemetery of local small town was rather a ... m-m-m ... exotic option for such appointments.

All these thoughts had been swirling in sir William’s head, while he was unsuccessfully trying to escape from two evils at once - red one and female one. They, these two harms, two devilishly pleasant temptations, were still doing their best to try to tempt him, while he, now having remembered of that very meeting and almost instantly having sobered up, smoothly, trying not to make any superfluous noise in a hall, maneuvering on a move between heaps of iron accessories, scattered by newly coming visitors in an absolutely senseless and chaotic manner, was making his way up to a place of a disposition of own metal inventory’s stock.