Artistic works, fan fiction

With our house, some kind of devilry is going on. We live outside the city - parents, after they came together, sold one apartment and bought a private house. Not very new, he already has forty years old. Everything in the house is good, only the basement was scary, all the wiring there constantly burned out and shorted, so there was no light there. Constantly pulled out of him by some kind of mustiness, sometimes even rotten meat. We found a bunch of corpses of mice and sometimes even rats there, but we all attributed the fact that they fell there, could not get out and died of hunger...

Sculptor…So the time has come for mystical stories. As I heard and transmit the story on real events. Once I had to hear this story which I remembered. And I want to tell you lovers of mysticism ... In one city N ... there lived a family of two. It was a house decorated with vase sculptures, with multiple colors. And decorative plantings ... Different statuettes stood around the house, expensive paintings were cheerful. The house was always full of visitors who came with orders for a sculpture, or for a monument with the image of a man ...

“I'm going to the investigator,” the woman said and showed the business card to a young sergeant standing at the front door of the police station. - Come in, I'm in the know. The twenty-eighth office on the second floor, ”the guard answered. A few minutes later the woman was already talking in the indicated office with the police captain. She took a rather thick notebook from her purse and laid it on the table in front of the investigator. “Actually, because of her, I came to you.” This is my husband’s diary...

Recently, a friend of mine, a work friend, died. The bus in which he was traveling had an accident, crashed into a truck. It so happened that of all the passengers on the bus, only my friend was fatally injured. Three days later, the funeral took place. I admit honestly: I am an impressionable person and poorly endure such events, but still, I couldn’t help but come to the last person I knew well. There is nothing strange that on that day my condition was unimportant. Probably, it led to the fact that returning from the funeral, I dropped my cell phone...

How to learn to play live? I ended up in one of the most remarkable time periods when one of the most popular games at 486, or even less, was the Prehistoric, Sim City and other classics that sometimes could not even compare with Saga. The games were of the type - I lost 3 lives - everything - try again, no save, and it was so fun to compete - who will go further, or even complete the game. I still remember how my brother and I walked on the prefix part 2 of "Chip and Dale," for a couple. I am already silent about the old Atari, to which games were recorded using a tape recorder with cassettes...

The life of each of us is divided into certain time periods: days, hours, minutes ... There are only 24 hours in a day, some of which we spend on sleep. What our life will be, directly depends on what our time will be busy when we are awake, make decisions, do something that affects the next days of our life. Each of our thoughts, each of our conditions, whether we like it or not, has an impact on our reality. They either propel us forward toward our goals and dreams, or impede this advancement, or even pull us back...

Being at night in a mental trance, I imagined how most people daily changed their minds as if the wind was changing its direction of flow. Not finding anything in common with each person, I told all my important knowledge to my fictional listeners, it seemed to me that I was standing on a large stage and seeing how I made full-fledged interlocutors from disinterested listeners. On the fly, they picked up my thoughts and asked me questions, thereby showing interest in me. There was excitement. I wanted more communication ...

The summer cafe was not crowded. A woman sat at one of the tables and, smiling, watched her daughter eat ice cream, after another two men in white shirts, fastened on the last button, were eating borscht ... - There used to be lunch, but now it's business ... This one, how is it? A business lunch or something ... There used to be workers, but now everyone has become managers. Wherever you spit, you’ll get into the manager, ”the old man muttered displeasedly, approaching the table at which he was already waiting...

I look at the windows of your houses at night. This is my dark silhouette, you can notice the corner of the eye behind the glass when you put out the light in the room. It is my claws that sometimes leave marks on the windowsills. This is my gaze you feel on yourself when there is nobody in the house except you. And my voice is like howling wind. Do not think that I look into your homes to scare you. No, I do not need it. I'm just curious to watch you. Believe me, in those places where I live, there are not so many interesting things, except for spiders, woodlice, and millipedes...

Recently I made myself a present: I went on a tour of Mystical Petersburg. The stops that we made during this journey were somehow related to the fulfillment of desires. Stroking the shipwrecked heel, to pass the exam well, whisper the old lion in the ear, the old pimp to help find the betrothed, toss a coin to the fawn, make a wish to make a wish come true. And all in the same vein. The excursionists enthusiastically performed the described manipulations, but when we approached the lamplighter, the activity sharply decreased...

Now it's fashionable to tell why people will never (or in the foreseeable future) reach the stars. Thousands and thousands of arguments are given that we are chained, simply nailed to the planet. But there are also converse arguments...

Each person has a different life, each lives his own way. But the indisputable truth is that life is a priceless treasure granted to us by God. The well-known American philosopher and psychologist W. James said this very accurately: “Do not be afraid of life. Believe that life is worth living, and given to you according to your faith. ” It was getting dark. The spring overlay was poured in thick sumach in the sky, comfortably arranged on the roofs, skillfully woven into the crowns of flowering trees...