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A Trap for a Thought-Form. 35. Mysterious Garden


A Trap for a Thought-Form. 35. Mysterious Garden
­A TRAP for a THOUGHT-FORM
a novel in the series
"PLAYING ANOTHER REALITY"

Chapter 35. MYSTERIOUS GARDEN

When I woke up in the morning, I remembered the Witch, the author of “The Devil’s Trill”, with whom it all began, or rather, with the presentation of which our literary parties at the Mansion had started, and I decided to talk to her.
We met in the same Blizzard, but far away from the Mansion, an hour before the 35th party, to loop through the streets in the city center.
“How are you, Alice?” asked the Witch.
“I’m okay. Although, to tell the truth, I’ve lost the desire to be photographed. There are only 5 presentations and the Ball left. You are going to the Ball, aren’t you?”
“Certainly! I’m sure so many Impure Souls haven’t been gathered in the Mansion for a long time!” The Witch laughed, and then added in a serious voice, “If the Guardian doesn’t object to my showing up. He really hates me after the unscheduled presentation of that ‘Cain’s Tales’! Has anyone else noticed the problem with the Mirror? Shadows?”
“No,” I sighed. “Most of the guests still seem to be too…”
“Unreal?!” the Witch guessed. “You know, Alice, I immediately realized that I had to stay away from the Mansion! Promise me to keep silent about what I’m going to tell you!”
“Wizard’s word!”
The Witch stopped in the middle of the Blizzard and looked at me with a hypnotic look.
“Imagine, when I ended up in the Mansion on the first party with ‘The Devil’s Trill’, I forgot what I had written in my own stories! As if the author was not me! That’s the horror! I couldn’t even remember anything about myself! How do you like it?! You asked me some questions, but it cost me incredible efforts to remember myself! The one I’m outside the walls of that monstrous building!”
“Yes, there are solid memory lapses,” I nodded, realizing that I, too, had almost everything erased. “And then? Do you remember what happened to you afterwards? After the presentation?”
“And then,” the Witch continued our walk in the Blizzard and confessed, “I started to have the same dream: as if every night I come back to the Mansion for ‘The Devil’s Trill’ presentation, and everything repeats in a circle — my presentation, your questions, my answers. Each time, however, it’s easier for me to remember myself.”
“Do you still have this dream?”
“Don’t think I’m crazy, but yes, I do! However, I really hope that after the Ball the delusion will be over!”
“At the same time, do you remember that you came to the Mansion also for your ‘Cain’s Tales’ presentation?”
“Of course, I remember! But I don’t dream of it.”
“Because the second presentation was a glitch in the Matrix?”
“Not just a glitch, but the one organized by me! And you know, Alice,” the Witch smiled mysteriously, “it proves once again that magicians, if desired, can always rewrite It!”

***

“No more surprises, I hope?” meeting me at the door, the Guardian asked.
“A surprise is always an unexpected emotion. You seem to be fond of programmed routine and chains: the same Blizzard song, the same bell ringing…”
“Don’t forget!” the Guardian hung my furs on a hanger and approached me. “This is MY Mansion. I am its owner. You are just a guest and have no right to come here with your Charter, breaking my rules!”
“Your Mansion doesn’t smell like a monastery!”
“It may not smell like anything at all, but you have to play it by my rules!!!”
“I’m not playing, sorry,” I replied sharply and headed for the cafe.

***

The author of “The Mysterious Garden” was a tiny Dryad who seemed to have learned to speak only yesterday, but already was insistent on joining the Union of Writers. Of course, the male guests could not bypass her presentation.
And during the break…
“Why are you sad, Alice? After all, in a few days you will be able to step into your completely different — Happy Reality!”
I made coffee for Roman and sat down next to him.
“Once I dreamed that I came to the Heaven Garden. God was planting flowers there, but he looked very sad. We sat down with Him on a bench and were silent for a long time, looking at Earth. God was reading my mind just like you are now. Then He sighed and said, ‘Come back down. Your sorrows are nothing compared to mine. The Devil rules the Ball on Earth, and I have to plant flowers here, because we had such an agreement, and I cannot break my word.’ I returned and wrote a poem called ‘The Sad Gardener’.”
Roman hugged me.
(“…I wonder, Roman, will you kiss me at least once on the cheek? at least in my book?” I thought very, very quietly. “Although, what difference does it make, with what loudness to think, if thoughts are written in the Book as well as words, and are read, both in my book, which I am writing now, and in the Heaven one by analogy, because everything There is like here, and here is like There. Where can you hide something? Where to hide your thoughts and yourself, the real you? Where?”)
“I hope you don’t hide your latest news from me?” Roman smiled.
I told him about my night visit to the Flower Fairy and the meeting with the Witch in the Blizzard.
“You already know what’s going on here, don’t you, Roman?”
(“…You are like Ray. He always knew more than me, but he wanted me to untangle the tangled threads myself.”)
Roman shook his head negatively.
(“…just think of it, 4 nights and the Ball left. And perhaps we will never see each other again. Neither here nor There. How short life is! It flies like these 40 nights, and no one knows how it will end.”)
“Do you keep writing the book?” Roman asked still mentally, and I nodded.
(“…It would be great to give it to you later, already published in some Happy Reality! The book, unlike me, has a much better chance of surviving, since the Guardian says that books are the most common phenomenon in the history of his Portal.”)
The bell I hated rang, and I hardly broke away from Roman.
“I wonder,” he said aloud, stroking my back, “what you’re going to replace your fears with again tonight!”
“With a letter to the Sad Gardener of the Mysterious Garden!”
Task No. 35. LETTER to the CREATOR
…Write a letter to the Creator about everything… Imagine that you decided to have a heart-to-heart talk with Him… Start with what you are grateful to Him for, then write what you regret, what you would like to return to do otherwise. About sorrows and losses — the lessons you had to go through. About dreams and hopes — about your Happy Universe. Ask the Creator to help you implement the plan for the next 6 months or for a year, being aware that He knows better in Heaven what will benefit a particular soul, and what will be harmful, therefore, it is quite possible that something of your plan won’t work, but you accept His decision in advance with love and gratitude…

***

“How are you, Alice djan? Are you still creating your Reality?”
“I’m trying. Do you still travel to the Places of Power?”
“I’m going to the Tower of Babel to the Chaldeans!”
“Exciting!!! I’d love to visit it, too!”
“Join me!”
“Thank you, Wanderer. Perhaps when these 40 nights in the Mansion are over, and as I finish my book…”
“Okay, Alice djan! Then let me send you a few miracles directly from Babylon tomorrow evening!”
“Granted!”






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© 11.06.2022г. Александра Крючкова
Свидетельство о публикации: izba-2022-3327147

Метки: мистика фэнтези, мистический роман, Иная Реальность, Игра в Иную Реальность, мыслеформа, ловушка, Булгаковский дом, музей-театр Булгаковски,
Рубрика произведения: Проза -> Художественные переводы











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