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Shaman. Book 1. Renaissance
Dmitry Shustin

Illustrator Viktoriia Meshcheriakova

© Dmitry Shustin, 2017

© Viktoriia Meshcheriakova, illustrations, 2017

ISBN 978-5-4483-0505-4

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Part 1. Awakening

A light beam of the morning sun glimmered in the window. It seemed to me that I was about to wake up, but I was still sleeping. Such a strange feeling when you can either go on dreaming or return to everyday reality, and what is more both dream and reality seem to be the same. Having rubbed my eyes, I still decided to hit the deck because it was a normal working day today and soon I had to get ready for work. Everything was as usual. Even sun, poking through the yellow curtains, appeared to be so ordinary that I could simply miss it. I hit the deck and walked aside my balcony. A new pack of cigarettes purchased in advance in the evening was waiting for me there. Having stepped out on the balcony, I saw the endless stream of cars already familiar to me, making their monotonous movement towards a new day and a new business. Suddenly I recalled when I was a child and waking up I’ve seen infield courtyard with bushes and various fruit trees in the window. I imagined how I was dreaming about living and working in the city with that endless stream of cars that I have the pleasure to watch right now. However, here we are, my dream came true but I don’t feel any mad delight and joy. It seems that now other higher and bigger dreams were the masters of my mind. If you stop for a moment and really think about the meaning of your life, a slight suspicion that your whole life is just cycling of events and objects may creep into your mind. When you strive endlessly to achieve something for gaining eventually that very happiness, you desire. However, every time you achieve a certain goal, gently beckoning happiness is slipping away again…

After looking for some time at awakening up city instead of starting quickly getting ready for work, I suddenly sat down on a wooden bench, which is luckily located in the shady side of the balcony. And I really had to get ready and leave the house as time was steadily approaching 8 am. As it later turned out, I would be late for good two hours. These very two hours would determine my future for many years, if not for the whole life.

Having sat on the bench, I felt a pleasant touch of wooden planks to my body. Maybe because I was born in the countryside, maybe just because of my addiction to everything alive and real, but every time I felt a real thrill from any wooden objects whether it’s furniture or even small household utensils. Easy breath of wind and the pleasant warmth of sunlight relaxed my mind and allowed me to immerse myself into my own thoughts. And these thoughts were about the fact that both today and yesterday and the day before and generally for the past couple of years for sure, I had to wake up and go to work to pay the rent and housing in order to have the place where to wake up and gain strength to go to work again… It may seem that these thoughts are like ravings of a madman, but if it is so, then at least 2/3 of the world population are madmen. Such sad fact could not help flashing through my mind. Previously such thoughts occurred to me more than once, but they also disappeared as quickly as they came, not leaving at least any significant trace in my head. It has been always so, but not today.

It is today when such ideas had such a strong influence on me that… I woke up and I woke up for real! I suddenly realized what a huge amount of possibilities are hidden behind the walls of my apartment. And even if my whole world was just this small apartment with a small shabby sofa, a table and a couple of closets called now «vintage’?

Various kinds of old objects, things, recordings are hiding here and waiting for their time…

Perhaps this is my diary which I was trying to keep from the very early childhood, but I could not hold out for more than 5 days, although in five days I was able to fill at least the whole notebook. I remember how for want of important events I could just write down the news from TV. This activity seemed to be really important to me, at that time I still did not know about the existence of the World Wide Web. Although a global network was already gaining its momentum somewhere far away 1,000 kilometers from my village, somewhere in distant America…

Perhaps these are photos taken at different times. Each photo, if you look closer, plunges us into a whole epoch when it was made. This is especially noticeable at the old photos even if they are black and white. The older photography is the starker contrast is. You begin to notice not only the faces of people but also their entire surrounding: clothes, sometimes, it seems to be strange, or vice versa causes a feeling of admiration (this feeling arises when there is a return of the once-forgotten style in vogue), the interior of the shooting place where you can find entirely strange things preserved only in the local history museums. Particularly interesting are the pictures of the so-called «transitional period’ between the black-and-white and color photos. These slightly reddish photos looking unrealistic, but so memorable. The defect of colors seemed to be only the imperfection of technology at that time, but today these images became part of history. It’s strange we begin to appreciate many things only some time later…

Perhaps, this is my collection of coins, which will be completely lost some time later and I will have to collect everything from the ground up. Another things I have true passion for are the coins, paper money (it is generally agreed to call them “bonds’ – printed banknotes that were once in circulation, but now they have become the subject of antiquity), various bonds, bank notes and everything else that refers to this subject anyhow. Coins have always caused a double feeling in me – on the one hand, I always liked them as an object itself, but on the other hand, – I saw the possibility of a financial perspective in them. The idea was very simple: if you regularly buy a certain set of collector’s coins, the number of freely convertible on the market sets will become less and less. Thus, the cost will be increased for each set in particular. The main thing is not to break your own rules and go directly to the intended purpose. But I didn’t have enough enthusiasm for buying more than 5—7 sets and then somehow I calmed down and could easily get carried away by the new subject to meet my rapidly changing interests. Generally, money have some magical influence on the human nature – the value of money increases the value of person, both in his own eyes and in the eyes of people around him.

All these things, once forgotten and many of them being covered with a thick layer of dust seemed to be asking for attention, for being presented with a piece of that subtle energy which is called soul. Normally the soul of an average person almost always sleeps, but it is waiting, every moment waiting when the man will wake up and then his soul like Danko’s burning heart will burst into flames. And at the moment when the soul is awakening, somewhere deep inside a new, unknown to you feeling of bliss and delight appears. Somehow, associations from childhood occur in such moments. Perhaps we were really happy then? What has happened to us now? Where did we turn off the right way? And does it really exist, this right way?

Having felt that consciousness is waking up, you begin to see differently. Objects take on another meaning, deeper than before. Every cell of your body can feel now and all the world around, as if obeying only to one’s will, lights up and reveals more and more new facets of itself.

What keeps us away from seeing the world in all its glory? It’s enough to look at it once with clear and not blear eyes and you will never be the same. This feeling goes so deep inside you that even people around you, as if obeying some mysterious instincts, begin to treat you as a completely different person and sometimes give in without understanding why they do it.

Suddenly a sharp noise outside dispelled my fantasy and I reluctantly returned to the usual world full of everyday routine. Actually, I quite often lapse into day-dreaming, captured by thoughts. Time passed steadily, but I didn’t want to leave the balcony. Bench seemed to be alive under the rays of the morning sun and a slight scent of wood breathed in the air.

A few more minutes passed and I finally came to my senses. The room door was slightly shut. With one flick of my wrist, I opened it and went inside. On entering the room, I really noticed that there are so many different things around me as far as my eyes can see. The room was quite comfortable and nice, despite the fact that most of its furniture consisted of old wooden chests and closets. Chandelier decorated with all sorts of figures and cutouts fit in the interior very well. When the evening twilight thickened in the room, this chandelier got its own, indescribable charm of antique. But the biggest attention I paid to the wooden ledge of some subject from the pantry. It was interesting that I could not immediately figure out what it was. By that time, more than two months passed since I had rented this apartment, located just in two hundred meters from my workplace. And in all that time I never looked into the pantry. My curiosity was flaring up more and more. Quickly stepping on the soft carpet, I found myself at the pantry door. However, it was opened just a little and it seemed impossible to open it. A sofa and an old chest of drawers were too close to it. I gently pushed the sofa away and managed to reach my goal.

That very object was… easel. It was obvious that it was used often enough. At the edges and particularly at the bottom lining, paint droplets were translucent. Sometimes they were mixed and formed incredible color combinations. However much time has passed since then, and an easel seemed to be frozen in anticipation of new creation. I carefully took it out and put it in the center of the room. Somewhere on the shelf were laying pieces of canvas, which could be still used for work. However not being an artist and having no skills in dealing with the canvas, I decided to leave it where it had been for the last few years. Having gone through some notes and heaps of books, I found a few sheets of paper of the needed size that fit the frame. While making my search I was surprised to find out that the apartment owners were teachers of literature. Most books were dedicated to this profession; folded sheets with essays, written expositions and other school works were laying here and there. Some of them were clean and had high marks; others were covered with red ink inside and out. I noticed one essay. The handwriting was such that it seemed as if letters were carved with a rough stone on a rock. It did rather resemble an ancient cuneiform than a modern language.

На этой странице вы можете прочитать онлайн книгу «Shaman. Book 1. Renaissance», автора Dmitry Shustin. Данная книга имеет возрастное ограничение 16+, относится к жанрам: «Книги о приключениях», «Научная фантастика».. Книга «Shaman. Book 1. Renaissance» была издана в 2016 году. Приятного чтения!