Book: Howler

Foghorn roared. The monster responded. I saw it, I knew all: the millions of years the lonely waiting - when, when you get back the one who does not want to come back?

And five years ago came here and built this lighthouse. Put his Howler, and he roars, roars over the Abyss, where, imagine you went to sleep and to dream of a world where there were thousands like you, but now you're alone-quite alone in a world that is not for you in which you want to hide. And the voice of foghorn calling, then fade, then calls, then fade, and you Wake up on the muddy bottom of the Deeps, and your eyes open like the lenses of a huge camera, and you climb slowly, because on your shoulders the weight of the ocean, a great weight. But the call of the Howler, weak and a friend, flying thousands of miles, penetrates the water column, and the furnace in your belly develops a couple, and you sail up, swim slowly. Feeding on the shoals of cod and whiting, hordes of jellyfish and go higher and higher through the autumn, month after month, September, when it begins to fog, October, when the fog even thicker, and the foghorn is calling and at the end of November, after you day in and day adapt to pressure, lifting an hour a few feet, you're at the surface, and you're alive. Inevitably emerge slowly: if you go once, you will break. Therefore, it takes three months to emerge, and the same amount of days in cold water separates you from the lighthouse. And finally, you're here - over there in the night, johnny, - the huge monster, knew what the Earth. And here is the beacon that calls you, the same long neck sticking out of the water and like a body, but the main thing - exactly the same voice as you. See, johnny, now you know?

For a year, johnny, a whole year miserable monster lies in the depths, thousands of miles from the shore, at a depth of twenty miles, and waiting. He may be a million years old, this lonely beast. Just imagine: to wait a million years. Could you do that?

Foghorn roared. And the beast answered. This cry was millions of years of water and mist. It was so much pain and loneliness that I felt. The beast shouted to the tower. Foghorn roared. The beast screamed again. Foghorn roared. The monster opened his huge toothy mouth, and she uttered a sound, mimic the voice of a Howler. Lonely, mighty, far, far away. The voice of despair, the impenetrable darkness, cold nights, rejection. That's what it was sound.

Here it is, life. Always the same: one is waiting for another, but it is not and no. Always love someone more than they love him. And there comes the hour when you want to destroy what you love so that it never tortured.