//------------------------------// // Prologue - Mortido // Story: trailblazer // by Sad Clown //------------------------------// The most pleasant thing about hiking is comfortable and lively solitude. The sound of foliage, the gentle play of light and shadow, music in the ears and a relaxing change of scenery. No people and no way to contact them. I remembered the algorithm I had sketched out for processing calls at a work PBX, and grinned vindictively. What joy it brings to any subtle mind to skillfully do something nasty... even to a friend. The path suddenly split into two, causing me legitimate doubts. It seems that this one leads to the ascent... or the next one? Damn, I'll have to check the map. I take my tablet out of my pocket and turn on the GPS module attached to my backpack. A couple of minutes and I saw where I was. After making sure that the path was correct, I headed down the right-hand path leading up the mountain. It immediately became harder to walk, but the climb is not too long, and the final goal fully pays off all the torment. If, of course, I find her. I stomped for another hour, checking my position from time to time. My legs were already a little sore, subtly hinting at the need to make a stop, but I decided to first get to the abandoned forest guardhouse, which was now occupied from time to time by hunters and hikers. Ilya said that the house was overgrown so that it was difficult to notice even up close, and gave extremely accurate coordinates. Yeah, but there's a problem.… Irritably, I reset the receiver and mutter obscenities under my breath. Despite the fact that I'm standing still, the navigation arrow is slowly creeping somewhere to the upper corner of the screen. The information window happily demonstrates an accuracy of ± 50 meters. Thinking gloomily that by the time of the next hike, I would need to solder an external antenna to it, I turned off the device. There is nothing to do, it remains only to search the entire radius in a spiral. It was getting dark. Light clouds quickly gave way to thunderclouds — a common thing. There are thunderstorms here almost every evening at this time of the year. By the way, perhaps it is because of the thunderstorm front that my GPS is so mercilessly buggy. It's going to rain soon, and I still haven't found the hunting lodge. Damn, do I really have to turn the tent around? Wait, what the?.. Yeah! Found. The house is really so overgrown with ivy or something else that I walked around it for several minutes and thought it was part of the landscape. There were small trees growing on the roof, among which I only noticed a chimney by pure chance. I expected the cabin to be at least damp, but it looks like people have been here quite often. One room: a stove, a woodcutter, two mesh single beds placed on logs for height, an inverted galvanized bucket next to them and a pair of stretched ropes to dry clothes. The ultimate rationality. So, I found the house, so there must be a lake somewhere nearby. After a whole day on my feet, the thought of a geothermal bath, for which I actually came here, was extremely tempting. And even twilight. And the rain... I love the rain! I'm basking in the warmth, and a cold rain is pouring down from above... that's it, it's decided! Throwing off my backpack, I quickly took out a flashlight, a large towel, soap and a change of underwear. Hmm, perhaps I should melt the stove so that I can return to the warmed-up room... and I'll wash the smell of smoke off myself right away, before it starts to give me a headache. I usually like to look at a slow-burning fire, but now I wanted much more to get to the lake before it finally gets dark and the rain starts, so after quickly checking the draft, I threw in some dry logs, generously poured them with a kindler, threw a match. After making sure that the flames had caught, I put the necessary belongings in a bucket and went outside. It's still light enough, but when I come back, I won't find this house so easily. But running around in the dark is not an option either. I'll have to leave the flashlight here, blink in beacon mode, and get back, lighting myself with a keychain. So, how do you get to the lake there? "Standing with your right hand to the door, walk eight hundred steps straight, then turn right, another hundred steps, there will be a stream, then up along it." The description seemed to come off the pages of a children's book about pirate treasures, but Ilya, who suggested this place to me, always preferred relative values to absolute ones, justifying himself by saying that he had enough accuracy at work. Yeah, sure. I walk, intently counting my steps. There was a rumble in the sky, the first drops hit the leaves. Eight hundred, I turn right, and soon I really hear the murmur of a stream. I lightly touch the water with my fingertips — it's a little warm. Smiling, I hurry upstream. Oh, oh... that's it! The lake was small, about ten meters in diameter. Steam rose from the hot water—forty to forty—five degrees. Undressing quickly, I rammed things into a bucket and put it upside down on a stone to protect the contents from the rain, and then plunged into the water with pleasure. The lake turned out to be unexpectedly shallow — in the deepest place it barely reached my buttocks. And that's good, so the water is being renewed quickly... if someone from the older generation of relatives were here, now there would definitely be chatter about its healing properties... br-r-R. I hate pointless chatter. With an effort of will, I force myself to put all thoughts out of my head and relax, leaning against a warm stone. The rain is gradually increasing. Bliss... everything is exactly as I wanted it to be. Thunder overhead, the rustle of a small waterfall and hot water washing over the body… Maybe, well, to hell with it? Should I quit my job, spend my savings on minimal amenities, and settle here, slightly rebuilding the hunting lodge? Winters are mild here, I'm sure this source does not freeze, so there is a place to wash... it's not a problem to get electricity either, a couple of solar panels and a windmill, and then… No chatter, colleagues, lies, eternal manipulations from which you can only wash off in hot springs ... Read, walk, think, enjoy peace and quiet. And then you can come back, in a year or two. Oh, dreams. I smile a little. The rain massages your face pleasantly, its noise mixes with the rustle of the waterfall into a sweet lullaby. The head slides off the stone, and the next moment I took a good sip of bitter water with a noticeable smell of hydrogen sulfide. Coughing and trying to drain the burning liquid from his nose, he jumped up carelessly, immediately slipped on a slimy stone and fell into the water like a Greek colossus again, repeating the procedure of drinking "healing" water. Normally, such an adventure would have made me angry, but now I just laughed, imagining how it all looked from the outside. Bring new emotions Bring cute stories Bring cashback with bonuses Bring new emotions Bring cute stories Bring cashback with bonuses Bring new emotions Bring cute stories Bring cashback with bonuses — Oh, okay ... — I said softly, having stopped laughing. — I need to wash up, otherwise I'll be completely lazy later. Taking a washcloth with soap, which I had set aside in advance, I began to vigorously scrub off my hiking sweat. Still, the water is a little hot, but this was a plus - I was so warmed up that now the downpour only slightly chilled my skin. An extremely pleasant feeling. After washing up, I plopped back into the water to wash off the foam. In general, washing in natural reservoirs with soap is a so—so idea, but since the water here still does not allow something more complicated than bacteria to live, then figs with it, I will not scratch the ecosphere especially. When I was done, I moved to a rock a little closer to the waterfall to wait for the soapy water to be carried away by the stream. I'll sit here for now, and as soon as the rain stops, I can go back. I didn't have to wait long — the main phase of the downpour passed even before I started washing, and in less than ten minutes only a light drizzle fell from the sky. But the storm seemed to be just gaining momentum — the thunder did not stop for a second. "That's awesome, of course," I said, stretching. "But if it goes on like this, the hell I'm going to be able to sleep." Getting up, I return to the bucket, turn it over to its normal position and remove the towel. After rubbing myself thoroughly, I got dressed without leaving the water. After checking the fasteners on the pockets of my hiking jacket and making sure they were closed, I gathered up the rest of my belongings and headed to the source of the stream. The undergrowth near the lake turned out to be unexpectedly dense, and the shore turned into a real swamp of liquid mud after the rain. The original plan to get out on the grass and continue walking on it has gone to waste — I'm going to get dirty like a pig. The second way to return is to walk along the stream, as I got here initially, but now there is ankle—deep mud, and the chance of slipping is unpleasantly high. Cursing, I still decided not to storm the shore, but to walk barefoot along the stream until there was some opportunity to wash off the dirt and put on shoes. Walking slowly along the muddy bottom, I had already reached the turn when my attention was attracted by something glowing in the clearing. Looking closer, I almost screamed — a skull surrounded by ghostly fire was floating in the air… I felt frozen to the spot. Without looking up, I followed the movement of the flying skull, until common sense finally suggested that the skull somehow already looked like a skull and did not look like one. Damn, fear has big eyes... it's just some kind of sparkling glowing sphere. It's unusual, of course... but it's a ball lightning! I never expected to see such a thing! Intense fear was instantly replaced by delight, and I pulled the tablet out of my pocket, but I could not capture the glowing ball slowly flying across the clearing — the camera was completely unsuitable for night shooting. The lightning on the screen looked like an overly large welding light, writing monograms in the air. It's getting bigger. Oh my… The sparkling ball slowly but very purposefully flew in my direction. I instantly remembered everything I had ever read about fireballs, and, frantically turning off the tablet, put it in my pocket. The lightning slowed down slightly, but did not change its direction. Throw away the tablet? Throw something at the ball? Run away? It's a pity for the tablet, lightning can explode, running through ten—centimeter dirt is a dead number, and even if it did, it could be pulled after me by an air stream. So, nothing to destabilize her... no harsh sounds, no sudden movements... maybe she'll pull away from me or dissipate on her own. If only she didn't explode, otherwise I've been reading stories.… I carefully backed away, not turning my back on the lightning—if I was going to die, then at least I could see from what. It was already difficult to walk in complete darkness through the slurping mud, and it was a nightmare to walk backwards and with busy hands. Without stopping backing away, I bent down slightly and dropped the bucket of shoes on the ground. I'll pick it up later, if I still have any "later". The lightning continued to chase me and even slowly shortened the distance! Well, yes, she doesn't need to pull her legs out of the bottom. I even heard a slight buzzing, like three meters from a transformer station, and also a light, light crackle, as if someone in the distance was tuning an ancient radio receiver. And it's fascinating... damn it! What familiar feelings… I've always been tempted to kill myself. Probably. I have never talked about this with anyone other than the Google search bar. As soon as I was at a more or less sufficient height and looked down, I began to tear apart from fear and delight at the same time. Fear pulled back, delight pulled forward. I knew perfectly well that after such a fall, bones would not be collected from me, but I could not deny myself the pleasure of hanging out on top ... until, quite by accident, I discovered that the fear was weakening. "Completely by accident" is waking up from a half—trance, standing on the parapet of the balcony. Then I staggered back, hit my coccyx painfully, came to my senses for a few more minutes, and then began to avoid such situations. At first I thought that this is how the fear of heights manifests itself, but, as it turned out over time, no. When I was almost hit by a car, I felt the same wild delight. Time passed so deliciously slowly... and yet I took a step back. Then there was the case with the plane, when a bird got into one of the engines on takeoff in the air. The fear came only when I was on the ground. Then they threatened me with a knife, and I almost ran into him myself. And all these cases were united by one thing — a mad, passionate delight. It can't be explained by adrenaline, adrenaline was always later... it couldn't be explained by the fact that I was a purposeful suicide — otherwise I would have jumped off back then. I found my answer in a very controversial term of psychotherapy — "mortido". I was not drawn to death until I saw a real opportunity to kill myself, but when such an opportunity was presented, when the chance to be destroyed loomed so beckingly before my eyes, feverish ecstasy rolled over me in waves. Just like now. I want to touch the zipper. But really, why not? Because I'm probably going to die right there. Well, so what? Well... I want to live. Really? Hm… I want to touch the zipper. Well, really, why not? More information on the advertiser's website Because I'm going to die. So what? Everyone will die! But I will be the only one who touches the fireball at the same time. And I want to touch her. That's how it buzzes invitingly. Touch it. Well, uh... no?.. Isn't it? I'm arguing with myself. And I want to touch the zipper. Is it worth living at all? I avoid people, and it's mutual. There are no friends. There is no family. More precisely, there is, but they will live without me. There are no emotional attachments. The letters are written. What keeps me in this world? Just the fear of dying? Yes, fu to be like that! Yes, I think I'll touch the zipper. I find myself standing knee-deep in the hot water of a geothermal lake. Wow, I got far while I was thinking. I stopped. The lightning flew a little closer and froze, humming and crackling like a distant flame. —Age quod agis,— I whispered, reaching for the zipper. She seemed to lick my fingers, sparkled… The last thing I remember is the feeling of hair standing on end, a bright flash in front of my eyes and the thought: "rough."