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

тАЬWho is it?тАЭ he asked, his voice higher with fear. He had always hated how his voice sounded when he
was afraid. тАЬDonтАЩt come any closer,тАЭ he warned, making a conscious effort to bring the pitch down to
sound more threatening.

The figure cloaked in darkness stopped in its tracks. Even this much farther into the clearing, Eric could
not discern any features. He was beginning to wonder if his psychosis had started to play games with him,
this shadow being nothing more than a creation of his insanity.

тАЬAreтАжare you real?тАЭ Eric stammered.

It was as if he had screamed the question, the wood was still so unusually silent.

The darkness in the shape of a man just stood there and Eric became convinced of its unreality.Yet
another symptom of the breakdown, he thought with a disgusted shake of his head.It couldnтАЩt stop with
hearing voices, he chided himself,oh no, now I have to see things.

тАЬGuess that answers that question,тАЭ Eric said aloud as he glared at the figment of his dementia. тАЬWhatтАЩs
the matter?тАЭ he asked. тАЬMiss your cue or something? When I realize youтАЩre nothing but crazy bullshit my
mind made up, youтАЩre supposed to disappear.тАЭ He waved the shape away. тАЬGo. I know IтАЩm nuts, you
donтАЩt need to prove it. Beat it.тАЭ

The figure did not move, but the covering of shadows that hugged it did. The darkness seemed to open.
Like the petals of some night-blooming flower, the ebony black peeled away to reveal a man within.

Eric studied the man, searching his memory for some glimmer of recognition, but came away with
nothing. He was tall, at least six feet, and thin, dressed in a black turtleneck, slacks. And despite the
rather muggy temperature, he noticed the man was wearing a gray trench coat.

The man seemed to be studying him as well, tilting his head from one side to the other. His skin was
incredibly pale, almost white. His hair, which was worn very long and severely combed back, was
practically the same color. Eric had gone to elementary school with a girl who looked like that; her name
was Cheryl Baggley and she, too, had been albino.

тАЬI know this is going to sound crazy,тАЭ Eric said to the man, тАЬbutтАжтАЭ he stammered as he tried to
formulate the most sane way to ask the question. тАЬYou are realтАжright?тАЭ

The man did not respond at once. As the mysterious stranger pondered the question, Eric noticed his
eyes. The oily shadow that had cocooned him previously seemed to have pooled in his eye sockets. He
had never seen eyes as deep and dark as these.

тАЬYes,тАЭ the pale-skinned man said curtly, his voice sounding more like the caw of a crow.

Startled, Eric didnтАЩt grasp the meaning of the manтАЩs sudden reply and stared at him, confused. тАЬYes? I
donтАЩtтАжтАЭ He shook his head nervously.

тАЬYes,тАЭ the man again responded. тАЬI am real.тАЭ He emphasized each of the words as he spoke them.

His voice was strange, Eric thought, as if he were not comfortable speaking the language.