In the year of the 175th anniversary of its publication " Dead souls"and the 165th anniversary of Gogol's death, the famous literary critic, professor at Moscow State University named after M.V. Lomonosov Vladimir Voropaev told RIA Novosti about why Gogol in Russia is still considered a satirist and not a spiritual writer, what happened to the second volume of "Dead Souls" and what prevents the spread of Christianity in modern culture. Interviewed by Viktor Khrul.
Vladimir Alexandrovich, you have repeatedly said that Gogol in Russian public opinion is perceived in the old Soviet tradition - only as a satirist, and his spiritual works remain in the shadows. Why?
— Firstly, this is the force of inertia. The fact that Gogol was not a satirist was already understood by his contemporaries. The same Belinsky, the frantic Vissarion, wrote: “It is impossible to look at “ Dead souls"and understand them more crudely, as seeing them as satire."
Gogol, of course, has an accusatory layer: both in “The Inspector General” and in “Dead Souls” he writes about what is wrong with us. This is about us. Everything that Gogol writes is about us.
But for an adequate perception of Gogol, it is important to have spiritual experience, which is not always the case for the modern reader. Many do not know that he built his life in accordance with the church liturgical regulations. How is this known? From his works. He himself says: “We say every day...” and quotes Lesser Compline from memory.
- So he had liturgical books?
“There were no books in his library, but entire volumes of his extracts from liturgical books were preserved.
- At what age did he make them?
- At the very peak of his creativity, in 1843-1845. He was abroad at that time, and he was supplied with literature by friends from Russia, as well as Russian priests who served in Europe.
In the book "Selected Passages from Correspondence with Friends" there is an article "What, finally, is the essence of Russian poetry and what is its peculiarity." Do you feel some irritation in the title? He names three sources from which Russian poets should draw inspiration: folk proverbs, songs and words of church pastors.
In another place he remarks on this matter: “Another mystery for many is the lyricism that is hidden in our church songs and canons.” The secret of this lyricism was revealed to Gogol and is known not by hearsay, but from personal experience. As is clear from the contents of the surviving notebooks, he read the Menaion in six months - from September to February - and made excerpts for each day.
Here is the answer to Gogol’s unique style - it is a combination of colloquial, everyday, even colloquial language and high Church Slavonic.
© Photo: photo from the personal archive of Vladimir Voropaev
© Photo: photo from the personal archive of Vladimir Voropaev
-Where does this love come from?
— It originated in the family, but was developed in school years. In the charter of the Nizhyn gymnasium, where Gogol studied, it was written that each student must memorize three verses from the Holy Scriptures daily. Just count: Gogol studied for seven years, three verses from the Holy Scriptures by heart - how many per week, per month, how much in seven years.
- How do Gogol’s obvious interest in evil spirits and subtle humor combine with this? Where did this come from?
— Our famous culturologist, literary critic, and esthetician Mikhail Bakhtin wrote that the work of such a “brilliant exponent national consciousness"like Gogol, can only really be understood in the flow folk culture, which developed its own special view of the world and its special forms figurative reflection. Gogol came out of this folk culture, hence such a vivid, picturesque description and evil spirits. This is all taken from folklore - Russian and Little Russian, Slavic in in a broad sense. But at the same time, note that the word “devil” leaves Gogol’s mature works.
- Why?
- Because it is a “black” word, not used in secular conversation, as Gogol put it. Demon, unclean, crafty - Gogol abuses this a little in “Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka.”
Not everything in folk culture, of course, is acceptable for a church person. And Gogol understood this perfectly. Gogol moved forward as a Christian. He himself said: “I have been walking the same road since I was twelve, without wavering in the main opinions.” It was, after all, a complete nature - and one cannot say that this is " late Gogol", and this is "early".
- Did the grown-up, mature Gogol condemn anything in his young work?
- Yes, you know, he was quite critical of his early works, including "Evenings on a farm near Dikanka".
- What didn’t suit him?
“He thought there was a lot that was still immature.” His early stuff was very didactic, remember? Everything is expressed openly, without deep artistic subtext: when Vakula runs to drown himself in the ice hole - who is behind him, in the bag? Demon. This is who pushes a person to commit suicide. Gogol's early works are very edifying; in them, divine power always defeats demonic power. Gogol came out of folk culture, from popular ideas - and this is his strength, and this is partly, in a sense, his weakness.
- And he is always a Christian - both in life and in his work?
- Of course, without any doubt. Let me give you another example. The last work Gogol worked on recent years life and which saw the light after his death, became “Reflections on the Divine Liturgy.” This is the most famous work Gogol in the 20th century, the most reprinted, one of the best examples of Russian spiritual prose. IN Soviet era this thing was not published at all, because, as stated in the comments to the academic edition, “it has no literary interest.”
From the memoirs of Gogol’s Nezhin classmates, it is known that he often sang the Divine Liturgy to himself in church and one day, dissatisfied with the way they sang in the choir, he climbed onto the choir and began to sing, loudly and clearly pronouncing the words of the prayers. And the priest heard an unfamiliar voice, looked out from the altar and ordered him to leave.
What does this mean? The fact that he already knew the course of the Divine Liturgy at school, and did not come to this at the end of his life. However, unfortunately, the idea that Gogol was first one, and then another, lives even in the minds of church people.
- But in his works there are examples spiritual rebirth…
- Yes, for example Chichikov. Pay attention to his name - Paul. In the last, eleventh chapter of the first volume of “Dead Souls,” the author tells readers that it is still a mystery why this image is depicted in the poem, that in this very Chichikov, perhaps, lies something that will later bring a person to dust and to his knees before wisdom heaven This is nothing more than a reminiscence from the Acts of the Holy Apostles, the episode of the conversion of Saul to Paul. There is reason to believe that the very name of the hero contains a hint of his future spiritual rebirth.
- Why did Gogol burn the second volume of Dead Souls?
— The mystery of the second volume is the most painful problem of Gogol studies. What did you burn, when did you burn it, why did you burn it? There is no clear answer to these questions. Twenty years ago I already expressed an idea that no one has yet refuted: Gogol never wrote the second volume. Because no one has ever seen the white manuscript of the second volume of Dead Souls. Nobody ever.
- On what facts is the burning hypothesis based?
— On the confession of Gogol himself. On the night of February 11–12, 1852, he burned his manuscripts. Which ones exactly are unknown. This is evidenced by his serf servant, who served him in the house of Count Alexander Petrovich Tolstoy. The servant said that Gogol took the papers, threw them into the stove and moved the poker so that they burned better.
The draft manuscripts of the second volume have reached us. These are the four initial chapters and an excerpt from one of the last chapters, conventionally called the fifth. But these are draft chapters, they have two layers of editing: first he wrote, then he began to edit based on this text.
Gogol's spiritual father, Rzhev Archpriest Matthew Konstantinovsky, was the last to familiarize himself with the chapters of the second volume. This was on the eve of the burning of the manuscripts. He is often accused of being the one who pushed the writer to do this. Father Matthew denied that, on his advice, Gogol burned the second volume, although he said that he did not approve of several drafts and even asked to be destroyed: “They say that you advised Gogol to burn the second volume of Dead Souls?” - “It’s not true and it’s not true... Gogol used to burn his failed works and then restore them again in at its best. Yes, he hardly had a second volume ready; at least I haven't seen him. It happened like this: Gogol showed me several scattered notebooks<…>When returning the notebooks, I opposed the publication of some of them. A priest was described in one or two notebooks. He was a living person whom anyone would recognize, and there were added features that... I don’t have, and besides, with Catholic overtones, and he didn’t quite come out Orthodox priest. I opposed the publication of these notebooks and even asked them to destroy them. In another of the notebooks there were sketches... only sketches of some governor, which does not exist. I advised against publishing this notebook, saying that they would be ridiculed even more for it than for correspondence with friends.”
Now about why Gogol’s plan did not find its completion. Gogol said more than once that he wanted to write his book in such a way that the path to Christ would be clear to everyone. Spiritual rebirth is one of the highest abilities granted to man, and, according to Gogol, this path is open to everyone. In all likelihood, Gogol wanted to lead his hero through the crucible of trials and suffering, as a result of which he would have to realize the unrighteousness of his path. Apparently, Dead Souls should have ended with this internal upheaval, from which Chichikov would have emerged as a different person.
The idea was grandiose, but unrealistic, because showing the path of spiritual revival is not the task of literature.
- What then is her task?
- It is designed to show human vices, the sinfulness of human nature. Yes, she achieved success in this. But there's a problem positive hero" - where to get it if a person is imperfect? Gogol’s idea is beyond literary creativity. And therefore his last book was “Reflections on the Divine Liturgy” - this is where this path is shown to everyone.
Ask schoolchildren or teachers why the heroes of “Dead Souls” are dead souls? They are unlikely to answer you. And the answer is simple: they live without God. In his suicide note addressed to all of us, Gogol says: “Be not dead, but living souls, there is no other door except that indicated by Jesus Christ...”. This is the way, this is the meaning of the name great poem, this is Gogol’s testament.
For him, art is an invisible step towards Christianity.
In a letter to his spiritual father, he hoped that after his book “Selected Passages from Correspondence with Friends” the reader would pick up the Gospel.
- How can we help today’s people turn to Christian values? What can we do?
— There are a lot of funds. You just need to remain a Christian, grow spiritually, and not stand still. A person who has stopped in spiritual development has gone backwards. Raise your children, your environment, “do your own thing.” It seems to me that Russia will stand firm in its Christian postulates and foundations longer than other countries and states.
What is more important for the correct assessment of a writer - his lifestyle or the values preached in his works?
“It seems to me that a person should be assessed by the heights of his spirit, and not by his downfalls.” Holiness is not sinlessness. Even holy people were not sinless. And there is no need to grab the writer “by the tongue.” Like Yesenin, he once said something stupid about communion, they repeat it, and even many priests don’t like him for it. And Pushkin, even if he wrote the Gabrieliad, undoubtedly repented of this: it is known that he destroyed all the copies and was very angry when he was reminded of it. Although I personally am convinced that Pushkin never wrote the Gabrieliad, and I can give irrefutable arguments in this regard. Be that as it may, the Lord judges him, not us.
- What do you think is hindering the spread of Christianity in modern times? Russian culture?
— Lack of genuine, correct spiritual enlightenment. Now a very great responsibility lies with priests and theological schools. If we do not have theologians and high-quality spiritual education, then it is difficult to demand anything from schools, parents, and children. You need to get this information and correct ideas from somewhere.
- But church shops are filled with Orthodox literature...
— For the most part, these are reprints of the old ones. But the situation is changing, new answers are needed.
It seems to me that priests should take part in public discussions - both on the Internet and on television - their voice should be heard, people should listen to them. In this sense, the Spas channel is wonderful: there is a lot of interesting material, priests often speak there and give their views on the modern process.
- Is it necessary to remove the character called “priest” from Pushkin’s fairy tale about Balda?
— There is no need to remove the priest from the fairy tale - this is the poet’s joke. By the way, the word “priest” (translated from Greek - Orthodox priest, priest; hence protopop, archpriest) in the nineteenth century did not have the pejorative meaning that appeared already in the Soviet era.
But the opera "Tannhäuser" and the film "Matilda" are another matter, it seems to me. There are topics that an artist must approach with special tact and responsibility. Now, as far as I know, the opera "Tannhäuser" is not being performed - and this is correct, because the director shows due tact and responsibility in this case didn't show it. Same thing with the movie "Matilda". Imagine: a director made a film about the Prophet Muhammad, using his own fantasies and his own sources. There was such a literary precedent - "The Satanic Verses" by Salman Rushdie, who was sentenced to death in Iran.
- Does this mean that Christianity is leaving culture?
“What is happening now is over and does not inspire any optimism.” European culture according to its origins - Christian culture, church She is completely imbued with these values. Take that away and it will lose its identity, its specificity.
Apostasy—departure from God—is an irreversible process. In modern Europe, this process is developing rapidly, but Russia is still resisting. Although, of course, this process is irreversible. Our task is not to stop this process, but to remain ourselves, to remain faithful to Christ. No matter what.
A Christian in his place must do his job - be a witness and preacher of Christ. This is his direct duty. And a Christian warrior must also do his job as a Christian - to defend the faith, homeland, country, people.
Both business and politics must be Christian. Our traditional values- these are Christian, Orthodox values, and we should not be ashamed of this.
February 24, 1852 Nikolai Gogol burned the almost completed second volume of Dead Souls, on which he had been working for more than 10 years. The story itself was originally conceived by Gogol as a trilogy. In the first volume, the adventurer Chichikov, traveling around Russia, encountered exclusively human vices; in the second part, fate brought the protagonist together with some positive characters. In the third volume, which was never written, Chichikov had to go through exile in Siberia and finally take the path of moral purification.
AiF.ru tells why Gogol burned the second volume of Dead Souls and what adventures were supposed to happen to Chichikov in the continuation of the story.
Most likely, Gogol burned the second volume of Dead Souls by accident. In the last years of his life, the writer felt constant weakness in his body, but instead of receiving treatment, he continued to exhaust his body with strict observance of religious fasts and exhausting work. In one of the letters to poet Nikolai Yazykov Gogol wrote: “My health has become rather poor... Nervous anxiety and various signs of complete disintegration throughout my body frighten me.” It is possible that this “unsticking” prompted the writer to throw the manuscripts into the fireplace on the night of February 24 and then set them on fire with his own hands. A servant witnessed this scene Semyon, who persuaded the master to spare the papers. But he only rudely replied: “It’s none of your business! Pray!
The next morning, Gogol, amazed by his action, lamented to his friendCount Alexander Tolstoy: “That's what I did! I wanted to burn some things that had been prepared for a long time, but I burned everything. How strong the evil one is - that’s what he brought me to! And I understood and presented a lot of useful things there... I thought I would send out a notebook to my friends as a souvenir: let them do what they wanted. Now everything is gone."
Gogol claimed that he wanted to burn only drafts and unnecessary papers, and the second volume of “Dead Souls” was sent to the fireplace due to his oversight. Nine days after this fatal mistake, the writer died.
Gogol's letters and remaining drafts make it possible to reconstruct the approximate contents of some parts of the burned manuscript. The second volume of “Dead Souls” begins with a description of the estate of Andrei Ivanovich Tentetnikov, whom the author calls “the smoker of the sky.” An educated and fair person, due to laziness and lack of willpower, drags out a meaningless existence in the village. Tentetnikov's fiancee Ulinka is the daughter of the neighboring general Betrishchev. It is she who becomes the “ray of light in dark kingdom" story: "If a transparent picture suddenly flashed in a dark room, illuminated from behind by a lamp, it would not have struck as much as this figurine shining with life, which seemed to appear then to illuminate the room... It was difficult to say what land she was born in . Such a pure, noble outline of a face could not be found anywhere, except perhaps on some ancient cameos,” this is how Gogol describes her. Tentetnikov, according to Gogol’s plan, should have been convicted of participation in an anti-government organization, and his beloved would have followed him to hard labor. Then, in the third volume of the trilogy, these heroes had to go through exile in Siberia along with Chichikov.
Further on in the plot of the second volume, Chichikov meets the bored landowner Platonov and, having encouraged him to travel together around Russia, goes to see the master Kostanzhoglo, who is married to Platonov’s sister. He talks about the methods of management with which he increased the income from the estate tens of times, which Chichikov is terribly inspired by. Soon after this, Chichikov, having borrowed money from Platonov and Kostanzhoglo, tries to buy the estate from the bankrupt landowner Khlobuev.
On the “border line” between good and evil in the second volume of the story, financier Afanasy Murazov unexpectedly appears. He wants to spend the 40 million rubles he earned not in the most honest way on “saving Russia,” but his ideas are more reminiscent of sectarian ones.
In the surviving drafts of the end of the manuscript, Chichikov is found in the city at a fair, where he buys fabric that is so dear to him, the lingonberry color with a sparkle. He encounters Khlobuev, whom, apparently, he “messed up”, either depriving, or almost depriving, his estate through forgery. Chichikov is saved from continuing the unpleasant conversation by Murazov, who convinces the bankrupt landowner of the need to work and directs him to collect funds for the church. Meanwhile, denunciations against Chichikov are discovered both about the forgery and about dead souls. However, the help of the corrupt official Samosvistov and the intercession of Murazov allow the hero to avoid prison.
Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol
Yuri Aramovich Avakyan
DEAD SOULS
Poem
To the reader
Dear friend!
The book you are holding in your hands now is a book of extraordinary Fate. On the night of Tuesday from February 11 to February 12, 1852, fire destroyed the pages of the manuscript of the second volume of “Dead Souls”, turning the paper on which it was written to ashes, and the contents of the manuscript into a secret that has occupied more than one generation of readers for more than 140 years and researchers of the works of Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol.
Only the first chapter of the manuscript, part of the second chapter, chapter three and fragments of the fourth and final chapters, of which there should have been eleven in total, survived the fire. Of course, the remaining parts of the brilliant text made it possible to make assumptions about what exactly should have happened on the pages of the second volume of the poem, as well as the memories of contemporaries who were lucky enough to be present when Nikolai Vasilyevich read individual chapters of the volume he was preparing for publication, but nevertheless less so, it was a Loss, irreparable and bitter. A loss equal to a tragedy, equal to a catastrophe, because the world artistic culture lost one of its outstanding monuments on that distant winter night.
Therefore, before us stood an unusual difficult task- recreate the text of the second volume of “Dead Souls”, carefully preserving both the style and language of the author immortal work; making maximum use of fragments of the original text, those that Providence has preserved for us and relying, as much as possible, on the memories of Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol’s friends.
Today we can say that the book has been recreated. Seven of its chapters have been written anew, those that the fire did not spare at one time, the missing fragments of the second, fourth and final eleventh chapters have been added, and Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov is again ready to meet you, dear reader. We hope that this meeting will bring you joy, as it brought joy to us, because this book is a tribute to our immense admiration for the work of the great Man, admiration for his memory and our dream come true.
Yuri Avakyan
CHAPTER ONE
Why depict poverty, and poverty, and the imperfection of our life, digging people out of the wilderness, from the remote corners of the state? What to do if the writer is already of this quality, and, having become ill with his own imperfection, he can no longer depict anything else but poverty, and poverty, and the imperfection of our life, digging people out of the wilderness, from the remote corners of the state. And so again we found ourselves in the wilderness, again we came across a back street.
But what a wilderness and what a back street!
Like a gigantic rampart of some endless fortress, with squares and loopholes, the mountain elevations went, twisting, for more than a thousand miles. They rose magnificently above the endless expanses of the plains, sometimes in the form of sheer walls, of a calcareous-clay property, streaked with grooves and potholes, sometimes with pretty round green bulges, covered, like whiting, with young bushes rising from the felled trees, then, finally, with dark in the thick of the forest, which by some miracle still survived the axe. The river, faithful to its banks, gave bends and turns along with them, then wandered away into the meadows, then, having twisted there in several twists, flashed like fire in front of the sun, disappeared into a grove of birches, aspens and alders and ran out from there in triumph, accompanied by bridges, mills and dams, as if chasing her at every turn.
In one place, the steep side of the hills was denser with green curls of trees. Thanks to the unevenness of the mountainous ravine, artificial plantings brought the north and south of the plant kingdom together here. Oak, spruce, forest pear, maple, cherry and blackthorn, chiliga and rowan, entangled in hops, then helping each other<другу>in height, then drowning out each other, they climbed all over the mountain, from bottom to top. At the top, at its very crown, mixed with their green tops were the red roofs of the manor's buildings, the ridges and ridges behind the hidden huts, the upper superstructure of the manor's house with a carved balcony and a large semicircular window. And above all this collection of trees and roofs, the ancient village church rose above all with its five gilded, playing tops. On all its heads there were golden incised crosses, supported by golden incised chains, so that from a distance it seemed as if gold, unsupported by anything, was hanging in the air, sparkling with hot ducats. And all this, in an overturned form, tops, lids, crosses down, was reflected prettily in the river, where ugly hollow willows, some standing near the banks, others completely in the water, having dropped branches and leaves there, just as they were looking at this wonderful image, where only their slimy body with the floating bright green of yellow jugs did not interfere.
The view was very good, but the view from top to bottom, from the superstructure of the house to the distance, was even better. No guest or visitor could stand on the balcony indifferently. Amazement took his breath away, and he just cried out: “Lord, how spacious it is here!” Spaces opened up endlessly, without limits. Beyond the meadows dotted with groves and watermills, forests stretched into several green belts; behind the forests, through the air, which was already beginning to become hazy, the sands turned yellow - and again the forests, already blue, like seas or fog spreading far away; and again the sands, even paler, but still turning yellow. In the distant sky lay a crest of chalk mountains, shining white even in stormy times, as if illuminated by the eternal sun. Due to their dazzling whiteness, at the soles, in places there flashed, as if smoking, foggy bluish spots. These were remote villages; but I couldn’t see them anymore human eye. Only the sparkle of the golden church dome flashing in the sunlight made it clear that it was a large, crowded village. All this was clothed in undisturbed silence, which was not awakened even by the echoes of airy singers that barely reached the ear, disappearing in the spaces. The guest standing on the balcony, and after some two-hour contemplation, could not utter anything else except: “Lord, how spacious it is here!”
Who was the tenant and owner of this village, which, like an impregnable fortress, could not be approached from here, but had to be approached from the other side, where scattered oak trees greeted the approaching guest, spreading wide open branches like friendly embraces, and seeing off it to the face of that same house, the top of which we saw from behind and which now stood completely visible, having on one side a row of huts that showed ridges and carved combs, and on the other a church, shining with gold crosses and golden cut-out patterns of chains hanging in the air? What lucky person did this nook belong to?
To the landowner of the Tremalakhansky district, Andrei Ivanovich Tentetnikov, a young thirty-three-year-old lucky man and, moreover, an unmarried man.
Who is he, what is he, what qualities, what properties is a person? You should ask the neighbors, the reader, the neighbors. A neighbor, who belonged to the family of clever, now disappearing, retired fire-ship staff officers, spoke of him with the expression: “A most natural brute!” The general, who lived ten miles away, said: “The young man is not stupid, but he has taken a lot into his head. I could be useful to him, because I have connections both in St. Petersburg and even in…” - the general did not finish his speech. The police captain gave the following answer to the answer: “[But the job on him is rubbish] - but tomorrow I’ll go to him for arrears!” The peasant of his village did not answer the question about what kind of master they had. Therefore, the opinion of him was unfavorable.
It’s impartial to say that he was not a bad person, he was simply a smoker of the sky. Since there are already quite a few people in this world who smoke the sky, why shouldn’t Tentetnikov smoke it? However, here is an excerpt from a day in his life, completely similar to all the others, and let the reader judge for himself what kind of character he had and how his life corresponded to the beauties that surrounded him.
Most people whose profession is the study of literature, especially Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol, agree that on the night of approximately February 11-12, one and a half hundred years ago, the great Ukrainian classic burned the second volume of his work under the slightly creepy title “The Dead.” souls." Why did he do this and why did Gogol burn the second volume?
A wide variety of opinions and guesses - why Gogol burned “dead souls”
There are several points of view about what happened that winter night. The first says that there was no second volume initially; something else was burned, some drafts, manuscripts, perhaps left over from the first volume. The second was originally a fiction.
Others believe that the second volume of the novel actually burned in the fireplace then, but this was nothing more than an unfortunate accident. And although another classic, Bulgakov, said that manuscripts do not burn, in reality it turned out differently. Nikolai Vasilyevich had no choice but to resign himself and accept this as fate. Creative people, are known to be superstitious.
There are also literary scholars who believe that the idea of the second and subsequent third volume was so grandiose that it was simply impossible to realize it, and as a result, the writer burned all his attempts in his heart. But there was no finished second volume. He could not positively regenerate the main character - Chichikov.
Nowadays, the opinion is becoming increasingly widespread that already at the time of writing the second volume, Gogol simply ceased to admire Ukraine, which was then called Little Russia, as well as the Cossacks. Consequently, the source of inspiration for the second volume disappeared, and the writer destroyed his pathetic attempts, realizing that he would not write anything worthwhile. But such an assumption is not based on anything specific; there is not a single fact indicating that Nikolai Gogol did not love his homeland literally until his last breath.
Mystics generally consider the work itself to be a satanic book, because, they say, the writer paid for such a title, what is the second volume when dark forces intervened. But this fable is just as far from the truth as the previous assumption. The fact is that in the plot there was nothing magical, just like there was nothing mystical, it was about the most ordinary hack work of officials. They passed off the dead as living.
Do you know?
- The giraffe is considered the tallest animal in the world, its height reaches 5.5 meters. Mainly due to the long neck. Despite the fact that in [...]
- Many will agree that women in this position become especially superstitious; they are more susceptible than others to all sorts of superstitions and […]
- It is rare to meet a person who would not find rose bush beautiful. But, at the same time, it is common knowledge. That such plants are quite tender [...]
- Anyone who can confidently say that they don’t know that men watch porn films will be lying in the most blatant way. Of course they look, they just [...]
- There is probably no automotive-related website or auto forum on the World Wide Web where the question about […]
- The sparrow is a fairly common bird in the world of small size and motley color. But its peculiarity lies in the fact that [...]
- Laughter and tears, or rather crying, are two directly opposite emotions. What is known about them is that both of them are congenital, and not [...]
Brother... - it seems it was male voice. Hoarse from something, perhaps from pain, perhaps moral. But the hoarseness does not spoil anything; on the contrary, it gives unprecedented subtlety to it, embodying the desire to destroy. Exactly. The owner of this timbre can see pain, so much so that anger is conveyed only in the voice. Because he can’t do it any other way. Because otherwise injustice will be done.
However, is this important? It must be so if deep in the soul, if there is one, it hurts so strongly and at the same time so quietly. Loki wouldn't call it pain, it's...it's more of a different feeling. He wouldn't like to admit it, but he didn't like his brother. However, he confessed. To myself. This is correct, but that feeling above still rages. What is this feeling? It's not pain. This can't be pain. Because pain is fueled by love. But Loki never loved either his brother or anyone else, he is honest with himself about this. He probably cannot love because of his nature. He accepted God's judgment and lived. He lived until he died. And having died he will live with humility.
Loki did not want to open his eyes, to illuminate Hel with his gaze. Hel, this haven of eternal torment, has been waiting for him for too long, and now she is burning to make up for every minute of fate’s plans with her calm. He diligently avoided this writings of God. He avoided, but still ended up where he was destined to be a thousand years ago. And he got out of Hel. But this time he's here forever. Loki will not open his eyes, thereby angering fate, and fate will join the list of fools. This is what he achieves. Although... who is he kidding? Why does he continue to lie? He's afraid. Loki is simply afraid, like the most ordinary person or jotun, he is ready to convulse. He doesn't know what will happen if he stays instead of running away. And this ignorance is scary.
And Loki is doubly afraid. This is amazing. He was always afraid of one thing. It doesn’t matter which one, but only one. There is no place in his soul for two all-consuming feelings. He was either afraid of falling into the eyes of his family, or he was afraid of death. When Loki was afraid of the first, he defeated the second with incentive. And when his family fell in his eyes, the second destroyed almost all feelings, be it happiness, anger, misunderstanding. But he died. It turns out that the fear of death is no longer dangerous. But fear of Hel... And fear of fear.
Loki used to hold fast to his feelings. Having admitted the absence of love, he did not admit to fear. His soul harbored fear, but he did not. Nowadays - yes. Loki is afraid of the very thought that he is afraid.
The eyelashes twitched, the eyelids dug heavily into eyeballs, cheeks and forehead frowned. This is called closing your eyes. Close your cute eyes, from which a trickle of blood flows. Because of Thanos? Yes... but partly it’s my own fault. I would have saved my own skin, as always, said something crazy and left. No. Loki is an idiot. Loki, you idiot! What was it? A burst of heroism? Why? Whose hero did you want to become? Loki would have answered these questions if he knew the answer. That's why he closes his eyes.
Where am I? Who are you? - a completely unfamiliar voice is heard.
But Loki also looks into the darkness.
If you get lost in Hel, then this is definitely Hel, boy,” he answered. He has nothing more to say.
But I must save... The world from Volan... - they interrupt him. And it is his interlocutor, lying in leucorrhoea, who does it.
Did you want to save? Didn't work out? Come on, if this is the way it has become, then it’s the will of fate,” the young man could hear despair. This reignited another fear in Loki. True, insignificant. However, it is enough for him to open his eyes.
The boy, that’s right, the boy looked sadly at his surroundings. He was simple, dark, with tousled dark hair, the curls of which spread unruly wherever possible. And the eyes, bottomless green, covered with iron shackles. I've lost my sight, apparently.
What's most unusual about him is his lightning-shaped scar. Lightning... sad memories that it would be better not to remember.
But... I have to. I can't just die like that. This is simply impossible. I... don’t believe that... I’ve come all this way... - he was ready to pour out his soul, burst into tears. And if something happens, turn Loki into a vest.
I wouldn't believe it either, man. All my life I lied, I was lied to, and in the end I died trying not to lie to myself. But I couldn't. This is definitely Hel, and it is impossible to get out of here. And the fact that you died is just possible,” Loki sowed pathos. His words made sense. It’s either pain or joy from the fact that life is being torn apart here. In fact, he is alive, but he is alive in Hel.
The young man fell down.
I can't... no. I have to go back. Please help me! - his voice breaks.
Come on, leave me alone. I need it. I've never had one. Even after death, the words are true. Loki had no peace at birth, but then he got used to it.
Salty moisture gathered at the corners of the dark one's eyes, his glasses fogged up, and he himself was trembling.
If you are going to cry, then do it away, - he will not be tolerant, - I do not want to see your appearance unbecoming a man.
Suddenly a scream reached their ears. Long and on top. Female. The lady screamed, and they watched as she soon came into contact with the ground. The young man was horrified, but Loki was not.
A-A! - and the roar is worse than before.
The young man looked blankly at the girl in a top and short skirt. She doesn't exactly look like a suicide bomber. There was no sign of anxiety or shock from the experience. But they should be if she is so young. She's even very beautiful. Red head of hair with an impressive long length, blue eyes full of misunderstanding. Blue eyes... Loki found similarities in them, yet the difference in shape is huge, but if you look closely at the eye, you can recognize the drunkenness. No, no, the girl is not drunk, but the one whom Loki recognized in those eyes. Thor does not leave him in Hel either. Cute.
A? Where am I? - she asked the expected question.
In Hel,” the young man narrowed his eyes, apparently having learned something interesting, “Ginny?..
Ginny, is that you? So you too?.. - he drooped. He stopped crying, but he became so depressed that it would have been better if he had cried. Loki knew this; many around him become like this. It’s like pain, as if an animal is scratching at your heart.
The girl shook her head negatively. While they were having a dialogue, God, the only one here, stood up and shook off the invisible dust that was not there. It becomes a habit.
You can get out of here, but why? Why would Loki get out of here? To experience fear once again? Oh no. Thoughts run into the deepest gorges of escape plans, but Loki will not turn them into reality. Let them stay there, he thinks, there is no point anymore. How many times has he run away from here? Five? Ten? He's had enough. Returning back, fear again consumes him headlong. It’s strange, the soul requires peace.
I am Bloom, Dragon Flame Fairy, Princess of Domino. I remember how they killed me... Who are you? What kind of place is this? - Her voice no longer trembled.
Fairy? Aren't they small? - the young man asked. Because Loki wouldn't be interested. He knows about the types of fairies.
This situation was strange. Definitely. The first experience after the death of two teenagers and, most likely, the last of God.
No no. These are small pixies. We are saving the world... I didn’t save him, - now she too has wilted. But she quickly woke up. “You said it was Hel.” What kind of Hel? World?
The place where you go after death, if you are not an Asgardian who died in battle. That’s right, a bonus to the rest,” Loki regained confidence. - Did you know that after rebirth, you can regain your virginity?
The young man burst into tears thick paint. He lowered his head and timidly said:
That is... you can be reborn?
What is virginity? - Bloom didn’t understand.
Seriously... - God was interrupted.
No, answer my question! How to get out of here?! - he shouted.
Very heightened emotions. Loki's heart trembled, albeit from surprise. He won't tell. He will not do good.
Yes, I mean that as a joke. There's no way out of here.
There was silence. Long. No one dared to spoil it. Because it happened for the same reason for everyone. Loki's words touched each of them, including himself. The words struck like a mace. The words touched hope, trampled and killed. Yes, Bloom and this one are doomed to feel guilty. Well, Loki, looking at the distortion of the faces of those two, understood the scale of the pain caused. His words, of course, hurt him too, but not with pain. Something different, delicate.
Hands up, I'm an android sent from CyberLife!
The man was showing off. What's more attractive is not him, but the gun in his hands. What is he going to do with it?
Are you going to kill us? Kill in Hel? This is... Kill in a square? - asked the more or less adequate God, ostentatiously raising his hands. The other two followed suit.
Where are we and who are you? We answer in order.
I am Bloom, Dragon Flame Fairy, Princess of Domino. If I'm not mistaken, this is the world after death, its name is... Hel.
Loki, son... Laufey. God of deceit and deceit. You must have died, since you’re already here,” he swallowed it all. He is Laufey's son. Not Odin at all.
I'm Harry. Harry Potter.
The Android threw the gun into oblivion, like everyone else here. However, unlike these drooping ones, the man continued to experience nothing. The circle on his temple lit up red - these are all the changes.
How do androids, or artificial intelligences, get to Hel? Are you Stark's creation? This awkward fairytale gnome? - Loki suggested.
Hel is not the sister of darkness, the bringer of darkness, the prototype of the mythological cave of devils. Hel is the afterlife. Time has no control over this abode of souls, therefore torment is eternal in the case of a sinful life. There are no walls separating the space, no ceiling or ground. The soul is supported by Hel's forces from falling, like an android's weapon. The soul does not need food, water, sleep. The soul makes up the shell, according to the latter’s memories, and the entire organism. The soul wanders through a colorless, endless space. That's all. The result of such a pastime is nothing more than peace. And the soul that has found peace disappears.
Loki doesn’t know them, doesn’t know what they were like during life, what they did, who they honored, what sins they committed, what good deeds they did. In all the times he's been here, Loki has met many people. Tall, short, beautiful, ugly, sociable, silent, vampires, elves. He also got into dark side Hel, where he reigns eternal flame and the brave ones smolder. He went through a lot in this life, not this life, the life before last. No more than Odin, he thought, but enough to start a career as a sage. The sage says: “peace, only peace is a vice of anything.”
I beg your pardon, sir. Are you unable to replicate your roots? - a man with a bob and a small mustache tore him from his thoughts.
The God of Deception arched his eyebrows.
Don't get me wrong. I'm watching. Did you say Lafie?
Loki opened his mouth for some sarcastic answer, but closed his lips again.
Uncle, we have a circle of revelations here. “You can join,” Bloom responded sadly.
To begin, provide us with your name while you were alive. I hope you know that you left that world? - the young man, his name Harry, supported her.
Nikolai. Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol. I will join if allowed. However, I will be with you for only one reason - I want to send you to the pages,” he languidly enlightened.
Are we already in the circle of depressed idiots? Great! And when did we create it? - Loki does not agree with such a sharp turn in the infamous fate.
I don't see a way out other than to talk.
Fine. If this is a circle of revelations, perhaps I’ll start, - Has Harry conquered his feelings?
Bloom nodded, sitting more comfortably in the lotus position. The Android also sat down, looking like an innocent puppy. Was there anything else left for Loki? Their new acquaintance elegantly spread out his robe and settled down on it.
My name is Harry Potter. And... damn, it's difficult! - He covered his face with his hands.
I saw you cry. So, everything is fine. I don’t think rumors will spread around Hel,” Loki reassured him. Who else? - Can you imagine the Alcoholics Anonymous club?
Okay... I'm Harry Potter. I was seventeen years old, and I would have spent my whole life in a closet if I had not turned out to be a wizard. My parents are wizards who died because of Voldemort. He's evil. I studied at Hogwarts, the school for wizards, and year after year, with the help of friends and family, I defeated him. In the last battle I fell. Now I'm here.
Loki began clapping his hands. Four pairs of eyes stared at him in disbelief.
“We’re in Alcoholics Anonymous,” he explains. - Okay, Harry, if I didn't misspell your name, you can tell me how you feel.
Pain. I failed. I was the hope of many. Perhaps... - a tear rolled down his cheek, leaving a wet trail. - they are all dead... It's my fault. I couldn't. I turned out to be weak. It's all because of me... it's my fault!
Yes, it's your fault, Harry. He is absolutely to blame for everything that happened. We are a figment of your imagination that will soothe you in Hel,” Loki seemed to be telling the truth.
Harry's eyes widened.
And in this way you put pressure on a person who has experienced death. Marvelous! - With these words, Nikolai continued to scratch the scribbled paper on the sheet. Oh, that was his handwriting.
During the entire conversation, the android was silent.
Harry, it's not your fault. If it weren't for you, many would have died without being born, right? - Bloom patted her on the shoulder, walking along her back with a calming gesture.
The young man nodded, sniffling at the same time.
I have. slightly similar situation. I screwed up the convergence at the right moment, and everything went dark. Tritannus... - they interrupted.
Thanos?! - panic fought with all its might, preparing for what came next.
No, Tritannus, cousin of Leila, my friend. He's a newt. In general, he was distraught that his brother, the younger, had earned the crown with his prudence. Formally and monarchically, he was supposed to be king. And yes, I feel guilty. I could change this. I could! But no, these Trix...
Loki experienced déjà vu. There was no more disgusting feeling in this world or any other. When you see your mistakes in the actions of another, your soul is torn. And now he consists of one soul. He feels hatred for Bloom with his whole body, groundless, extravagant hatred. The lump inside shrinks. Loki is ready to go into convulsions. No, he rather restrains himself from doing this.
And, in that world, my loved ones remained... - and again interrupted by God.
There is no love.
Yes,” she frowned.
No, Loki has stood his ground for ten centuries. What's there?
Yes, - Harry appeared.
“This is a very strange feeling that I would like to feel,” the android said. - I'm Connor, nice to meet you.
Shut up, Connor,” the angry three said in unison, and Loki continued, “you won’t feel this feeling, because it doesn’t exist.”
For your information, the quarrel is not best choice for you, my friends, since you are in these parts,” Nikolai advised.
Yes, you're right, Gogol. I will not find peace forever by quarreling with you. And I realized something, all of them - Bloom, Harry... okay, not all of them, but these two - want to return to the old days. I'll get you out of here.
So you lied to me! - Harry exclaimed.
“I agree, I have to go back,” Bloom quickly stood up, approaching Loki.
I'm not sure I'll take you back exactly to necessary worlds, but at least I’ll get you out of Hel. Do you agree?
The two nodded.
With your permission, I will stay here,” Nikolai smiled reassuringly.
Android, are you with us? - asked Bloom.
Yes, brevity is the sister of talent.