3. Black Shadow

It seemed to appear out of nowhere: a black shadow shot up from under my feet, suddenly appearing in front of me. I was drunk and at first I thought this strange dark something was just a hallucination – but the figure moved towards me, and I instinctively recoiled, raising my hand to eye level.

The rope looped around my wrist, pulling me forward, and I fell to my knees, trying to break free. I braced my feet and one hand against the rough surface of the asphalt, I resisted as best I could, grabbing the lasso, and soon sobriety returned to me.

The shadow wanted to pull me into a dark alley? I let the rope lift me, turning my body towards the one who dragged me along the ground like a calf.

I wanted to push him, but I missed. My left limb was still tied up, I only caught him with my right elbow, falling with all my might onto the pavement, sliding on the ground again.

The shadow’s reaction was quick.

He tried to twist my arm, skirting and pulling the lasso. He moved quickly and elusively, I followed him, rising to my feet. I held on to the rope that was squeezing my wrist, I couldn’t see where he was … It was dark, and his eyes were glowing in the darkness – yellow, like a beast’s.

I won’t manage to escape.

“What the hell do you want from me?!”

I screamed into the void – and blindly jumped at him once more.

This time I knocked the shadow off his feet, and we both fell to the ground. I expected a blow as I fell backwards, but he only pinned me to the pavement, throwing me over my side. He rose instantly, yellow eyes flashing in the darkness. He was silent, I thought I had gone deaf, and all I could hear was my own clumsy movements.

I jumped up abruptly, following his example, but my trembling knees failed me, and I lost a precious fraction of a second … A knife flashed before my nose, I didn’t have time to jump back, I just struck with a backhand and almost at random on the wrist, reflexively.

This only works against right-handed people …

I came across the cutting edge, which had become an extension of the stranger’s glove – and the next second I was already turning the blade away from me, squeezing the base of the handle.

The blood pounded in my ears. I could already imagine my body with multiple stab wounds lying in the alley for several days until a couple of hobos found it, already eaten by rats.

The eerie eyes narrowed, something hot was running down my sleeve to the elbow, only later I realized it was blood … I could no longer move, and the stranger squeezed my hand tighter – with the blade cutting into it – around the handle, the knife, and his own hand. The movements of the left hand were still constrained by a thin slippery thread, disappearing into the sleeve of the flowing cloak of shadow.

A mad, desperate idea came to me. I jerked, feeling the knife go deeper into my palm, and my opponent – as I imagined – smiled an invisible smile. I tried to turn around, to kick him … I cut the cord of the noose that had gotten under the blade, and the cut edge of the lasso disappeared.

In a misplaced act of bravado, I tried to hit him, but he dodged. He let go of my hand, and I, realizing promptly that it was time to stand from under, rushed in the opposite direction from him.

The back of the club seemed like a long dark alley, and at the turn I fell again on my hopelessly skinned knees, I was running, I was out of breath. Finding myself on an empty, deserted street in Greenpoint, I looked back, but there was no sinister shadow pursuing me.

Having already slammed the door, finding myself in my Defender, I tried to stop shaking, even out my hoarse breathing, staring at my bloody hands.

What does he want from me? Money, a phone, car keys? With a rope, a knife … He’s not a robber, he looks more like an assassin who got the era wrong or a serial killer from a horror movie.

Feeling like I was about to pass out, I slapped myself across the cheeks.

4. Icy Hands

I didn’t remember how I got home and treated the cut. I woke up in bed with a hangover, my hand hastily covered with a bandage, my shirt unbuttoned and one shoe missing – because I couldn’t unlace it.

The odd incident had no explanation. The stranger in the alley had intended to strangle me, the purple stripe of the hematoma and the swelling on my left wrist were proof of that. It was too late to apply ice … What happened to my right hand under the bandage was anyone’s guess – but it would heal. I’m left-handed anyway.

I tried to get up, tossing and turning on the crumpled sheets in the pose of a dead cockroach, but it didn’t work right away. Finally, I took an upright position and went to the bathroom.

A thin, pale guy with dark circles under his eyes was looking at me sullenly from the reflection in the mirror of the cabinet. On the cheek was a red mark from the corner of the pillow, which I usually don’t lie on, but only prop up with my head.

I turned on the water with disobedient hands and stared at the sink drain, trying to stop the buzzing in my ears. There were few thoughts in my head, and they all sounded like memorized clichés … And I really wanted to lie down and die.

There’s been worse shit – and for some reason I started moping. So what, a fight in an alley! So what, a fight in an alley with an incorporeal black shadow!

I shivered. The shadow wasn’t incorporeal, the shadow had icy hands in gloves. Everyone who repeats the refrain: ‘Victor, your hands are like a dead man’s, cold!’ is probably mistaken.

If I am a dead man, then who is he – this guy with glowing yellow eyes?

I looked up from the rushing water in the sink. My eyes were gray, not yellow … I grinned mirthlessly.

A second later, I was already trying to wipe the dirt off my cheek – wincing and cursing through my teeth of the pain in my limbs. I’ll have to get used to it.

It was uncomfortable to stand in one boot. I struggled to pull off my unlaced Dr Martens, angry that I couldn’t bend over, my knees looked as bad as they felt through the layer of dirt and dried blood over my torn pants. Finally, I managed to get rid of the boot, and, limping awkwardly, I threw it angrily through the doorway somewhere in the direction of the room. It hit the obstacle with a loud, dull thud, but there were no other sounds. I hadn’t broken anything.

I sent the shirt flying like a black blot after the boot. In a thoughtless, sickening stupor, I unzipped my fly and sat down on the edge of the bathtub, my head spinning … I was pulled out of my trance by an extraneous sound, as if not from my lonely reality – a phone ringing, coming from the room.

I lazily pulled my jeans down to my knees and didn’t even think of answering. It was probably the persistent Kaftzefoni – he was the only one of my circle who woke up in the first half of the day.

The phone went silent, I yanked my jeans down from my knees, tearing off layers of skin along with my clothes … Unpleasant. The jaw hurt from clenching my teeth. Damn that guy from the alley!

Once I had finished with all my clothes, freeing myself from the tight pants – not for the first time regretting wearing tight jeans – I climbed into the shower.

To hell with it all – I need to wash myself off from this nasty day.

Leaning my shoulder against the wall, closing my eyes tiredly, I could again hear the sound of the phone through the noise of the water.

5. In Its Place

I wanted to smoke. I rushed around the apartment looking for a pack of cigarettes: keys, money, phone – everything was in place … My habit of emptying the contents of my pockets on the nightstand as soon as I returned home had not let me down, but the cigarettes were nowhere to be found. I was disappointed – but soon my gaze fell upon the pack on the floor between the nightstand and the bed.

Praise be to all the gods, demons, the Fractured Star, whoever.

I took a drag. Everything in its place, a cozy little world. People call it social phobia … I didn’t care what they called it. I didn’t need people.

The part of the world I appear in is just underground, these are masks and roles, the real me, it seems, no one really knows. There are eight million people in New York City, seven billion on the planet … I am lucky that my existence is remembered only when it is necessary to entertain the crowd with music, I am lucky that for some reason I am useful in the business that I do best.

I lay on my back across the bed, my head thrown back, looking at the colorless daytime sky, turned upside down, the gray day with gloomy clouds feebly breaking through the window. I didn’t want to do anything, again this familiar apathy … I can do nothing.

I sat up. The cigarette had long since burned out in my hand, the pain in my wrist was pulsing with heat, the bandage was white on my palm. Indifferently looking around the room, I suddenly remembered the missed phone call. I hobbled to the nightstand.

Two missed calls. From an unknown number.

The thought that this number and the new acquaintance with yellow eyes were somehow connected sent an unpleasant chill down my spine. Nonsense.

My eyes were closing, either from fatigue or boredom. Curled up in a fetal position – as much as my crippled limbs allowed – I fell asleep. Later, I never remembered the missed call or called back.

Outside the windows of the apartment building, uninteresting to me, a New York anthill was seething, the evening streetlamps lit up in the twilight, inviting the autumn night. I dreamed of yellow eyes and a laughing violin dancing around a gypsy fire.