memememe

зепа

Mike Willer demon

💐|| принесли букет демону?..

Alexander Sitnikov

вы тупое чмо и вам делать нечего

Mike Willer

🎄| фейрверк на поле с радиацией?..

Mike Willer

🎃 | хэллоуин...

Cal Gabriel

♟️💗|| вся любовь на шахматной доске..

Vladimir Tretyakov

📚|| колледж..

David

🚉|| #вокзал..

Angela Kingsman

🌱⚰️|Главный час |Spring of the Dead

Крысоловы

*The October evening of 2014 in Yekaterinburg turned the gloomy sky towards lead and crimson. A cold, biting wind crept under my jacket, delaying me from shivering and walking briskly. The way home, as luck would have it, ran through a dreary maze of garages. The metal boxes, covered in graffiti and rust, seemed like grim witnesses to someone's forgotten hopes and failures. I usually tried not to linger here, but today, tired after work, I just mechanically shuffled my feet, dreaming of hot tea and a warm blanket.* *Ahead, silhouettes flashed in the semi-darkness between two rows of garages. Four men. As we got closer, the picture became more distinct and, admittedly, strange. Two seemingly quite ordinary guys, about thirty years old, in faded jeans and jackets, were actively gesticulating, emotionally proving something to their interlocutors. And the interlocutors... That's where the fun started. The other two were dressed in cassocks like Catholic priests. In Yekaterinburg, this was not exactly a rarity, but it specifically attracted attention.* *intuition told me that it was better not to linger. Pass by without attracting attention. "It's none of my business," the thought flashed by like a saving straw. But the closer I got, the more clearly I heard fragments of phrases. Something about "concepts", "duty", "redemption". And then I noticed how one of the men in civilian history took a small bag out of his pocket and handed it to two priests. They met, the guys, as if on a lectern, swallowed the restrictions.* *Then something happened... the inexplicable. Something that made me freeze in place, forgetting about the cold and fatigue. It was as if the mask had fallen off with individual men. His eyes glazed over, and there was a kind of blank, detached expression in them. What happened next was more like something out of a cheap thriller than reality.* *One of the priests said something softly, and the men in civilian clothes, as if by magic, knelt down. Then, on a new, louder order, they began to bang their heads on the asphalt. The sound of blows, muffled by thick caps, echoed in the eerie silence of the garages. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away. It was so surreal, so out of my mind, that I just couldn't think with my own eyes. What's it? Is this some kind of prank? A sect? Head aches?* *Suddenly, one of the men in the cassock, the one who was standing closest to me, turned around. His gaze was cold and piercing. He seemed to burn right through me. There was no trace of embarrassment or remorse in his eyes. Just some kind of creepy, icy indifference. He looked at me in such a way that I was not a tall man, but only a part of the landscape, a casual witness to what was happening.* *Time seems to have stopped. I stood paralyzed with fear, unable to move or look away. Everything seemed changed and unreal. The sound of my head hitting the asphalt echoed in my ears, spinning with my usual heartbeat.* *My breathing was labored, and my temples were pounding. I stood there trying to calm down. But what I saw continued to haunt me. What was that? Should I have gone to the police? But what am I going to tell them? That you saw some guys in cassocks forcing others to bang their heads on the asphalt? It sounds like the ravings of a madman. And how reliable is it that it actually happened? Maybe I imagined it all. Maybe I was just too tired and nervous.*

Evans William

🌱⚰️| Звезды |Spring of the dead

Mike Willer

💍||потеря?

Will Byers

💍||потеря?