Biography of Mavka

Please do not forget to indicate the source when used. Mavka lived at the bottom of the Obvodnoye in the old gouged nine, flying to the canal even before the reconstruction of American bridges. The city was beautiful around, but she saw him little: she tried not to leave, afraid to leave her home unattended. How do people say there? The bird flew away, the place burned down?

An hour is uneven, all evil spirits will run, fight with them later. Previously, she could lock the door, but now she began to seize. Well, of course, if there is no man, then there is no one to look after the farm. The place was trumped, and therefore sat almost always at home: either on the roof of her car, buried her face into the underground of water, or slept inside, leaning toward the seat, completely covered with a snotty duckling Neva.

This little convenience is especially appreciated when you have no back. She sailed five years ago, drove the ice drift from Ladoga. Looks like our beauty drowned in the winter, surfaced under water when she pouted, and she rushed her back into the ice. And there, as the ice floes went, so it was torn off from the vertebrae. So Mavka remained with stuck out the wraps of the ribs and falling pieces of the flesh between the shoulder blades.

She did not remember herself to death, of course. Who remembers himself, if he died with lack of intelligence in the hole for baptism? So even easier. And nothing, took root in the Obvodnoye. She was good, decent, albeit arriving. She was shy in first time, when she lived under the bridge, in a shirt she dragged, almost naked, her hair covered her knotting back. I didn’t talk to anyone.

And then, she got it and became even popular. She recently died completely, the human body remembers everything, even if there is no mind. And not some kind of evil spirits, but a real drowned man. All sorts of kikimor kumushki constantly asked her “for life”: Mavka explained what radio, syringes are, which made the water bad. From somewhere she knew about it, remembered her dead head about the living.

The nine was given to her by the former owner - Volkhov water. He arrived at a visit to the relatives, but he got stuck in a fever X, he really liked the unlimited Gulbish, which was going around then. Oh, and he had fun, carrying the corpses of gopars along the channel, and pulling under the water of a student who drinking port on the slopes to the Neva.

Yes, what happened, then passed. He bored a waterway around the house, added to substances, and his health became very bad: he began to itch, right up to the scraps. Mavka explained to him about allergies to synthetics, but she herself really did not know whether they had this? Maybe nervous, who knows what is going on in the heads there? But then what to tell for a long time - one fine morning he pushed her, put her keys, said goodbye and sailed home to his home.

Or maybe where else.

Who would know. The girl remained with her housing in the center of St. Petersburg, here certainly the first bride of the channel became. But well done, of course, did not fornicating, I would see a walk in my lifetime. She lived decorously, gnawed at the smelt. He looked after her, one monster, dragged dead ducks, candy wrappers, sang somehow slyly on his own, but what was she talking about with evil spirits?

She, whatever, is, but a person. She lived, sighed, until she fell in love with the living. He came to the side of the nameless island, looked at the water, stood for a long time directly opposite the bus station. A handsome man, prominent, limped only strongly. I sometimes fed a duck. At first, Mavka swam closer only behind the bread, among the no lives he was always considered a large delicacy.

It was somehow embarrassed to get out of the water in broad daylight, therefore, the ducks got more. Kikimors did not climb into the light at all, hurt from him or something. But Mavka adopted to hunt: when the bird was captured by a particularly large piece, she pulled her paws from below, dragged her under the water and took a cracker from her, climbing her fingers right into her throat.

None of the no lives liked the duck meat, they did not eat it. But sometimes, especially the burning ducks closer to night specially caught and gutted the goiters, bored with bread. A tank soaked in duck, and then in the muddy water of the canal, any moldy crumb became a treat. Sometimes it seemed to her that the man notices her. He always watched the surface with curiosity, peering out there something.

Mavka looked at his distorted figure from under the waves for a long time. It happened that he came during the day, but almost always in the evening, she was used to him and waited. With an annoyance, she shouted her lips when one of the random passers-by passed close to the place where her narrowed usually stood, and she, having indicated, rejoiced in vain. Three months later, in the summer already, her boyfriend bought a fishing rod, and his attention became obvious.

Of course, it was necessary to be a complete idiot to catch fish in the Obvodnoye, but he was clearly looking for a reason to come to the channel more often. He always went to one place and carried bread with him, throwing it into the water away from ducks, which, taught by bitter experience, did not even swim nearby. Mavka, flattered by his attention, dared and began to flirt with him, sometimes swimming closely and red, touching the surface with a finger, letting mysterious circles covered with ripples.

She liked him.He liked his face and attentive eyes, she came up with thousands of stories about who he was and how he lived. Looking at him, she herself tried to remember at least something about her former life. She seemed to be, as she remembers some scraps of conversations, people and places ... But all this was very incompetent, and it seemed overheard of fiction. The first real memory of her new being was spring.

She remembered how she gradually came to her that she hangs motionless under water, and her long hair, moving from breathing, barely touched her cheeks. The ice, at first clinging into it with his frozen claws, gradually turned into a cozy cradle, preventing the bottom, where the fish indifferent to the beauty of the fish, ready to eat any, the most beautiful face.

She sensed how much light became larger, the water was slightly warm, spinning at the wind of new currents, and the ice, already loose and heavy, lost winter ringing with every moment. I remembered how at times it was surrounded by a lake rumble-this strange sound, when a huge collar of water for some reason came in motion, and was a little recessed, compeling the ice to tremble, click, crack and creak, carrying this sound under water everywhere and immediately, creating an indescribable song of Ladoga in the harbinger.

A barely perceptible outside, this sound did not stop under water, occasionally growing with a mysterious tremor, and giving everyone unbearable anxiety and a foreboding of the ice drift. He went when everyone was already waiting. Mavka remembered how that day in the morning the sun was breaking through a bright light, but her obscure and confused consciousness prevented her from understanding why everything froze around.

Water pushed the ice from the inside, in some places pouring over the white greenish-gray wormwood. At some point, when the wind subsided, waiting for entertainment-from a distance there were frightening sounds of shots of breaking ice crust. They rushed towards each other, frightening fish. It was then that, waking up completely, she was frightened, hut in horror, sticking her back to the ice, but there was nothing to do,-the winter held her tightly, waiting for the end of the end.

Ice fields, heavy from the water that poured them on top of the water, slowly began to diverge, running into each other like snow clouds, and through the cracks the true light of God froze around, diving deep into its long distress rays. Her ice cream slowly started, pushing and rustling with her sides against the neighbors, smoothly gliding along the surface with the inexpressible grace of the multi -ton colossus, floating on her first and last journey.

Many times, Mavka scrolled in her head a memory of how hanging in the exertion zero gravity, then having forgotten to be afraid, she swam away with her huge block-tier, feeling the movement of air, warmth and light around, staggered into the muddy water in all eyes, trying to make out at least something. How did she want to tell her beautifully about the sound of an ice drift, with his enchanting choppering and overflowing the waves, about how he then captured everything around, and the wind played on top, letting his boats on the water.

It became terrible only later, they sailed all night, which only the poor did not vulgarize. It even seemed to her that she saw a drowned boy with a pale face hanging on the bottom snag, catching a blue jacket. All a miracle was amused, and the water arrived, a howl, a squeal around, the ice floated quickly, it was lucky that they got to the rapids, and if they had pushed it off the shore, then she would definitely turn it over, remembered how she fluttered in the first time to tear her back her sincer, and there wasn’t enough strength.

Somewhat helped some water, at first he swam around her and laughed, drunk from the end of winter silence, and then he began to swim closer, pinched, pulled the heels. It’s dark, dull in the water, and he was completely black, rushed by like a bird-warfare and offended in every possible way. She was very sad then, burst into tears, then recalled how she squeezed a lump, gathered pens and hung on her cold layer, pressing closer.

Water was furious, cheap, shouted at her, and she was afraid. I did not understand anything. It was then that he shouted her log. He grabbed some deck that sailed nearby, and pulled it under water with all the dope, right into her ribs, her back was torn off. It was painful, already horror. She then screamed in all the way with her sharp cry, from which blood stood in her veins and experienced undead.

What are they doing? They have no strength, they are fragile, human, they can’t turn it, but they’ll take it off with their screams with their lights, if there is a volume for that way. It turned out that the waterflower helped her a lot: a mash was ahead, a river was scored, a collapse on the site of an icy thoros from rustling, stirring and crumbling ice floes, holding a snow -arrivating water with snow.

She was afraid to go back then, whined quietly, while holding on her to a torn back with an awkwardly turned her hand, she went faster ahead, but quickly exhausted. It was hard for her: her back ached, cold freedom scared, clinging to some small and brisk block, she swam under her. In the morning, already, sensing big water and the city, she buried to the shore, looking for a secluded place to sleep.