LITMIR.BIZ

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drunk on his own malice, Carl Lanter was losing his mind, and began to tell the full absurdity.

      Sometimes Eric thought that blames of the oppressor in these absurdities, happened just because he would do that. Inadequacy persuaded Mr. Lanter in his right, that his actions might be inherent in other people around him.

      – I really lost it – Eric tried to speak as calmly as possible, trying not to let his feelings that were inside him to spray out.

      The boiling from anger bubbles were escaping from the mouth of Mr. Lanter.

      – Who are you kidding, bastard?!

      The back of the hand of Charles Lanter slid by Eric’s temple.

      His hands were shaking, his eyes were watered. His heart was torn by hatred for the man that stood in front of him; to the person who spoils everything within his radius. He wasn’t even a person, he was a creature – not able to take care of anyone, and certainly, not able to love someone! This consumer eats every day more and more energy: he is dangerous, and he spoils the life!

      – It’s ok, if only she … – his threats continued.

      Rotten tongue faltered and fell into the pharynx. Eric didn’t hear from him anything any more.

      The click in the head said, that the glass was full.

      The eyelids shut.

      Silence.

      A sec.

      Blurred loops quietly rushed for racing in different directions furniture: the kitchen tables with a crunch flew into details from merciless blows and its contents flew out and broke into pieces. In the air floated a variety of figurines, which were made of different material. Aluminum forks, spoons, knives, and other utensils —its all bent and compressed in lumps. The dining table was off the floor; it crashed into standing on a shelf picture and then broke in two parts.

      All that were in the kitchen were pressing the ceiling, the walls: it seemed, that a little bit more – and the room will fall apart. Whirlwind didn’t stop! Gas stove flew up, then fell down and began to cuddle up to the plinth, periodically tapping on the corner. Poison gas hastened to fill the air. Fifteen years old boy didn’t pay any attention to it.

      Eric stood with his eyes closed, as if nothing had happened. The only thing that he has deigned to respond for all time was a solid dull sound. In the hallway the sound of the merger with the wall of the skull of the person, who offended him, was interrupted by frame advance of occurs, replacing it by hurricane of events. In an instant mute knocks turned into a deafening cacophony.

      The last chord was the spark of the crashed incandescent bulb, which surprisingly hold out so long time among this chaos: the whole room became decorated in the bright blue color.

      The explosion.

      The room sunk into the orange-red storm.

      Along with shards of the glass door, Eric was thrown out into the cool evening, right on the flower bed of purple asters. His body shook, and his mind was somewhere else, but the instincts of self-preservation were trying somehow to revive the fragile flesh and pull as far as possible from the flame.

      The house looked like a torn shirt, from which holes the flame was burning. The fire began to grow, taking more and more of small dwelling for yourself.

      Scrolling to his head the occurred things, the instincts shouted to Eric, “Run!”.

      In a panic, he covered his mouth with his hand so as not to choke of the huge flow of oxygen, he did it. Eric was all ragged, he got up and ran off into the woods, into the darkness, into the emptiness of the hopelessness of the further normal life.

      The poor guy didn’t know what happened and who is to blame? Who killed his father? Who pursues and tries to kill him?

      Besides Eric and his father, in the kitchen there was no one: who made furniture to dance in the air and blew up the house?

      “What could it be?! Who did it?! "– Eric yelled desperately, still running in deep darkness among the trees, constantly stumbling about almost everything, what was lying on the ground. He made himself not to thing about anything and ran forward.

      Sticking out from all sides hooked branches scratched his face and hands, which were paving the way in the darkness of the fugitive.

      “Whoever it is, he won’t catch me!” – The words didn’t stop from the moment when Eric woke up after the explosion. These words burnt the heart, they blinded eyes, choked, knocked down. He didn’t realize how fast he run, and whether he was running. In the darkness of the forest he couldn’t see anything, and without stopping Eric was looking for a way – but just where? Where could he get away from what he didn’t even know?

      Now, Eric didn’t know how to be, how to live. Everything has become a nightmare. A couple of seconds divided his life on “before” and “after”.

      Caught on the right foot by protruding from the ground root of black alder, Eric fell and rolled down. Moving by somersaults almost a minute, frightened boy rolled with from a small slope; committing another somersault, he ran by his shoulder on something sharp. There was no pain, fear didn’t give place in his body any other feelings or sensations.

      Coming out onto the highway, Eric didn’t have time to navigate before the surge of boat blinding light. Eric was dumbfounded by the unnatural rubber squeak, his thin body collapsed like a rag doll.

      Eric shook immobilized in the shine of white light, until someone’s hands rose him from the wet asphalt. In his eyes everything mixed up, the images around Eric were illegible. Even the feelings were not able to perceive anything.

      There was a pause, it lasted so slowly that is already began to seem as if it will never end. The storm has stopped – there was not a single word in his head, just calm, silence and a bird, which was flying in the glass sky. Flickering lights dimmed in the endless expanse of emptiness. After a while it disappeared too.

      Light alternated with darkness, reality mixed with fantasy, everything was mixing in Eric’s head. He was killed by tragedy, Eric didn’t understand: he is sleeping or awake, lying or sitting, or standing, or even hanging. Everything was viscous and hazy. Stupor didn’t leave him even for a second. Without moving, he kept looking at one point.

      Flames. He liked looking at it, lying on a sofa under a warm blanket. That night was very cold, and the only thing that warmed him was the fire in the fireplace. It warmed his naive child’s soul.

      It was nearly midnight; everyone had gone to bed, except for the little boy. He didn’t want to miss a minute of the fabulous night. Getting out from the bulky blanket, the child decided to hide under the tree that stood in the living room. The tree was magically beautiful; he couldn’t take his green eyes from its small flashing lights. Closely pressed to the wall, the boy carefully walked fluffy fir, and crept under her thick prickly needles. He lay down on the soft carpet, waiting for a miracle. The lights of shimmering garlands, which reflected in the Christmas tree lulled the boy. He fell asleep, right under the Christmas tree.

      That Christmas was the best in his life! Because in the Christmas night there was no man that enveloped a wonderful holiday in shattering loud moans and abominable complaints.

      His father’s face, contorted with surprise and fear, his long, and, at the same time, a short flight, kick, crunch, death. In his head flashed the image of the White House, which was dissolving in the fire. The devour guilt, the horror of what had happened shook Eric. But somewhere deep inside, what he was ashamed and afraid, it was simply unacceptable to admit even to himself, come to enjoy from the liberation of the heavy cargo.

      – No! – Angrily shouted Eric, without acknowledging the shameful joy. – No, – much quieter, he repeated, pressing his head to the knees.

      He wasn’t happy about what happened. On the contrary! It was much worse!

      “Where

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