Book: Draft. Page 2

As it turned out in the course of the experiment, a wooden stake in the chest fatal to humans no less than for a vampire.

Fiction you believe in magic even less than a prostitute in love. I thought so, when he came to Melnikov. Here are just prostitutes - they believe in love. Quietly, without telling anyone, but I believe. I dream that there is something other than a sweaty, fat men who require sex for money. Dream and I'm afraid to believe it.

Strange thing - like and was not expecting any miracles, but still upset.

A strange feeling cause empty bookcases. Painful-sad. Like included somewhere and find slides of the removed clothes, shoes, small things and people there, had disappeared.

Dogs are like people, only better. They, unlike people, do not betray!

I feel like coming from the chilly street, I changed into home - an old worn shirt and pants that won't wear on people, but are all cosy and comfortable; poured into a large mug of strong, hot tea and opened a new book of a favorite writer. Read a few pages and contentedly looked at how many more pages to come...
The warmth, tranquility and expectation of something good...

Despite all Proverbs the money was more reliable friends.

All women in the world shared to Kochi on "women" and "lady." Women are all feminine. The lady is the woman that he's currently in love.

It was the truth. But just because we were not afraid to talk about it, this truth lived out the last days.

Three years I lived independently from my parents. In General merit only. I myself am in the apartment hoarded least ten years. They told me the apartment presented, and downright put out of the house. At first I even was a little offended with all the indisputable advantages of individual housing. Then he looked at his friends, living with parents, and realized how right were my ancestors. Still lives with mom and dad, if you're of school age came out, man the spoils. You can earn good money, can include parents, but if you still live in the parental home - you cease to grow. Accept the behavior and life of the parents.

Nothing new under the sun. Even under a new moon.

I didn't like his clothes - black sweater and pants, all tight, even slippery to grasp. Clothing for fighting and not for drinking beverages by the fireplace. I liked the black mask hood on his head, leaving only the eyes free. Eyes didn't like - cold, ruthless. It is not like a heavy short stick in his hand.
Yes what there to list the people I absolutely did not like!
And then, as he cautiously approached, holding the stick a little reserved too.

Unaware of death and decay, grow herbs and animals. Forgetting about death and decay, live people...
It is human nature to resist degradation. The very meaning of human existence consists in this perpetual, violent fight that can not win but which it is impossible to concede.

Fear is different. Do not believe those who say that the worst is unknown, incomprehensible, concealed God knows where danger is. Worst of all things visible and rough - cold steel blade to my throat, the endless darkness inside a pistol barrel, the heavy smell of fell beast, breaking into the throat of the salt water, echoed in the crunch of a step plank bridge across the chasm.
And only then will place to the words "I love you" and "we must operate", for something which manipulates and wheezing in the dark, to the cemetery in the stormy night, for the first parachute jump, for threats, "we're coming after you, right?".