xdirtx

both Denises

'i am not always calm like that. i act different ways depending on how i feel at the moment.
when i am calm like that i am impressed by something, when i am angry and sad then i am depressed
by something.
and when i am happy and smiling that means i got some little thing that seems to be, not even
real, but like... important... true... i don't know... i may know it is not real, it is ninety nine
point nine percent imposible, but it still will be much more inspirating me than anything else
around there. it is about motivation, probably. yeah, motivation is the right word.'
i passed through the dark and empty tunnel, went right and saw these drunk three old men and one
young woman. one was touching her chest, the others laught. then one of them took the empty bottle
of wine and threw it to oposite side of the street with the loads of slobber and cursing coming out
of his mouth. i made a step back into the shadow, cause i didn't want to get next bottle.
i looked to the place where bottle had it rest and i saw a fat woman sitting at the bus stop.
she had eyeglasses, old fashioned clothes and newspaper in her hands. she was reading an
article about giving away blood for the money. she was reading it very loud. she was actually
shouting.
"the process it self is not painful! it takes only seven to ten minutes to take away up to 450 grams
of blood! the most popular blood types among the donors is A and B types!, and the C type is typical
for only fifty persent of all potential.."
the second bottle smashed her face, she started to fall down on the her right side, her breath
became loud and tricking.. i looked at the drunks. one was searching for another bottle around his
legs. he had hard time, his old ugly hands could not hold the bottle. so he start to curse, then
he grabbed woman's legs, took off her pants and tried to fuck her, but he was to drunk to do that.
he got angry, took the bottle he found, went to the fat woman and started to smash her head and
her fat body shouting something about his dad was killed cause he was jew.
she didn't move, just her breathe became less and less loud. after a while, when
old man stopped to hit her, she lied not breathing on the bus stop at st.valentin's street. she
sank in her own blood.
i went through them. they were laughting. smiling.
there were no people on the streets around, thus it wasn't late enough to everyone to get in bed
waiting for the next work day. it was cold, i couldn't feel my hand fingers and couldn't answer to
the message, which my mobile informed me about. it was my mum. she asked me not to go out for a long,
cause she saw on news that it is cold today. she asked me to take care of my lungs and to sleep more.
also she said that Denis has died.
"why were they smiling?"
i thought when i ran into it. it was a bag full of the something in the payphone with the broken
windows. i doubt for a moment. it is a god dam little country nobody really cares about, but,
you know, this overwhelming mass histeria affects you too neither you want or not. i slowly opened
it. it was full of empty 2 liter bottles of beer. there were about tvelwe of them. it maked me smile.
i went away of that pay-phone.
"why am i smiling?" i thought "Denis has died of heroin over-dose and i am smiling there.."
it was kindda weird, you know, we were
both Denises.
we were the same 7 years old age. we lived in the same hotel in the centre of Havana. our parents
were at work most of the time, so we had aunt watching after us. Denis doesn't like her. so did i.
he was a 'bad guy', a little hooligan, and i was a positive one, a good boy. but we spent our time
together. he was taking his bed on fire while telling me stories about indians and i was running to
kitchen to get a water to calm down the flames. he was collecting cuccarachas and sinking them in the
water and i was taking them out and letting them go in the yard. he was swimming to these big stones
defending city from the big waves to get the crabs from holes in these holes while i was preparing
some fire place to bake them. he loved a sea, and i loved a girl Sveta, and she loved him, and
he had no time for loving her. i adored him for the way he was. he was my first best friend. you know,
the one you don't need to say he's the best friend, you just both know it.
after these times we haven't seen each one for a long time, we had no relationships, we didn't
write any letter or later e-mails. but this message just took away a file from my past. deleted it.
i felt pity. i went sleep.
"why am i crying?"