Book: Road

Not all dying words can be trusted.

When we all die, nobody left, except death, and her days will be numbered. It will go on the road, and around the empty, no one. What does she do then? So she asked: "Where is everybody?"

For all of human history punishment was more than crimes.

There is no to-do list. Day predetermined. Hour-by-hour. There is no "later". "Later" is now. Beautiful graceful things dear to someone's heart, simultaneously the source of suffering. Born from the grief and ashes.

- Somewhere there are good people. You said it yourself.
- Talked.
- Well, where are they?
- Hiding.
- From whom?
- From each other.

- Good luck to you, we also do not wish?
I don't know what luck is. What it looks like. There's someone who's really lucky?

Out of the ruins in the gray twilight stopped suddenly clearly realized the essence of this world: cold, inexorable motion of a planet; the Earth died, leaving no heirs; the ruthless dark; blind dogs of the sun in perpetual motion; the dismal black void of the universe. And somewhere in there they are - two they shoot the beast, trembling as foxes in the woods. The life of a loan: time - in debt, the world too, even the eyes to be terrified and shed tears, and those in debt.

There is no God and we are his prophets.

Frailty of the world finally becomes apparent. Long-standing problems remain unresolved, dissolve into the night. Was not them. With the lights off, empty. Take a look around. "Eternity" is time-consuming. But he knew the price of everything: eternity - timeless.

Night black as hell, every day for a bit darker than the previous one. Like ruthless glaucoma still just in its infancy, and has already started to fade.

Sometimes she told him about God. He tried to talk to Him, but best of all he gets to talk to his father. And he spoke often, and never forgot it. The woman said it correctly. His mouth says God, and so from generation to generation the truth.

- When you Wake up from coughing, I try to get away or to the side. And I still can hear your cough.
I am sorry.
- Once I heard you crying.
Remember.
- If I can't cry, then neither should you.
Okay.

- Earlier we talked about death. I had to stop. Don't know why?
I do not know.
And I know she has overtaken us. Nothing more to say.

In the morning, made a fire and decided to walk along the shore, while the boy is sleeping. Went very close, and suddenly he felt uncomfortable with strange premonitions, and when he turned back, he saw that the boy stands on the beach wrapped in a blanket, and waiting for him. Added step, and when we approached him, the boy sat down wearily.
What's wrong with you? What's wrong with you?
I feel bad, dad.
Put his hand to his forehead son, hot as a furnace. Lifted, carried to the fire.
- Nothing, nothing. Get better.
- I think I'll puke.
Nothing.
He sat down on the sand next to her son and was holding him by the forehead while the child was throwing up. Wiped his mouth with his hand. The boy whispered:
- I'm sorry.
- Sh-sh-sh, you've done nothing wrong.