Yuri Markeev. Golden Elsa (№ 392194)

The city where I was born, carried the spirit of magic. Grotesque characters could exist only in the mood of my town with lots of soaring Gothic spires of the old Church, a neat cobbled streets and squares, where the night was going and weeping ghosts of witches, heretics, scientists, alchemists of all stripes, who during the Inquisition were burnt "to the greater glory of God." Their weeping was turned to the past, and was hovering over today's city Baltic howling monsoon winds. The past was heard in the night noises, which can recognize only children. Sometimes the old Church, built not on a Foundation of stone, and only hot fervent faith, flew up to the heavens, which were fixed and then the city could be heard the groans of the sinners who are not embraced landless Sky.
Old black river P. twice a year was "swollen" and poisoned by the miasma citizens. Who was wiser, he knew that Christmas and Easter from the bottom trying to get up decayed bodies are left there once the villains and robbers, and come out ahead of time on the Court Fear. And witches who were not checked by the fire of fires, and throwing them into the water. If the young red-haired beauty with green eyes, which conveyed a fat Burger, a neighbor, did not sink, so she was declared a witch and she was burned at the stake. If drowned, then the Church has recognized a mistake and prayed for the soul of the righteous, innocent victim for the sake of Christ and received a crown of the Martyr. Burger-the informer was not recognized, because in the inquisitorial box for letters - the "mouth of truth" - were allowed to leave anonymous. Not recognized there were still reasons for which it was told: young, proud beauty denied him the pleasures of love - she, a woman with obvious signs of witches; too independent, too beautiful, with Golden hair the color of carrots and eyes like sparkling malachite. The city was old for new stories, however, have nourished fantasies of children to magical new stories.