"Thomas E. Sniegoski - The Fallen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sniegoski Thomas E)

pregnant and unwed, died giving birth to him. They raised him as if he were their own, giving him all the
love and support he could have ever hoped for. And how would he repay them? With more sadness.
 Scalding tears flooded his eyes as he imagined what it would be like when he returned to the house and
roused the poor elderly couple from sleep. He could see their sad looks of disappointment as he
explained that he was hearing voicesтАФthat he was nineteen years old and losing his mind.

And as if in agreement, the voices of the night again came to life: chattering, wheezing, tremulous,
quavering, gargling life.

тАЬRun, run,тАЭthey said as one.тАЬRun for your life, for they have arrived!тАЭ

Eric looked around him; the ruckus was deafening. Since his bout with madness began, never had the
voices been this loud, this frantic. Maybe they suspected he was coming to his senses. Maybe they knew
that their time with him would soon be ending.

тАЬThey are here! Flee! Hide yourself! It is not too late. Run!тАЭ

He spun around, fists clenched in angry resignation. тАЬNo more!тАЭ he yelled to the trees. тАЬIтАЩm not going to
listen to you anymore,тАЭ he added to the air above his head and the earth beneath his feet. тАЬDo you
understand me?тАЭ he asked the darkness that encircled the clearing.

Eric turned in a slow circle, his insanity still attempting to overwhelm him with its clamorous jabber. He
could stand it no more.

тАЬShut up!тАЭ he shrieked at the top of his lungs. тАЬShut up! Shut up! Shut up!тАЭ

And all went instantly quiet.

As intolerable as the voices had become, the sudden lack of them was equally extreme. There was
nothing now: no buzz of insects, no cries of night birds. Not even leaves rustled by the wind. The silence
was deafening.

тАЬWell, all right then,тАЭ he said, speaking aloud again to make sure that he hadnтАЩt gone deaf. Made uneasy
by the abrupt hush, he turned to leave the small clearing the way he had entered.

Eric stopped short. A lone figure stood on the path.

Was it a trick of the shadows? The woods, darkness, and moonlight conspiring to drive him crazier than
he already was? Eric closed his eyes and opened them again trying to focus on the manlike shape. It still
appeared to be somebody blocking his way.

тАЬHello?тАЭ He moved tentatively closer to the dark figure. тАЬWhoтАЩs there?тАЭ Eric still could not make out any
details of the stranger.

The shape came toward him, and so did the darkness, as if the undulating shadows that clung to the
figure were part of his makeup. The comical image of Pig Pen from theCharlie Brown cartoons,
surrounded by his ever present cloud of dust and dirt, quickly flashed across EricтАЩs mindтАЩs eye. In a
perverse way it did kind of remind him of that, only this was far more unnerving.

Eric quickly stepped back.