"Zenna Henderson - Pilgrimage2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Henderson Zenna)

"And there were no answers. And I sat there until the grayness dissolved from
around me as it did on lesser occasions. But then-" Lea's hands clutched each
other and twisted painfully.
"Remember what came then? The distorted sky wrenched open and gushed forth
all the horror of a meaningless mindless universe-a reasonless existence that
insisted on running on like a ! faceless clock-a menacing nothingness that
snagged the little thread of reason I was hanging onto and unraveled it and
unraveled it." Lea shuddered and her lips tightened with the effort to regain
her composure. "That was only the beginning.
"So after that the depths of futility became a refuge instead of something to
run from, its negativeness almost comfortable in contrast to the positive
horror of what living has become. But I can't take either one any more." She
sagged against the railing. "And I don't have to." She pushed herself upright
and swallowed a sudden dry nausea. "The middle will be deeper," she thought.
"Deep, swift, quiet, carrying me out of this intolerable-"
And as she walked she heard a small cry somewhere in the lostness inside her.
"But I could have loved living so much! Why have I come to this pass?"
Shhh! the darkness said to the little voice. Shhh! Don't bother to think. It
hurts. Haven't you found it hurts? You need never think again or speak again
or breathe again past this next inhalation ....
 Lea's lungs filled slowly. The last breath! She started to slide across the
concrete bridge railing into the darkness-into finishedness-into The End.
"You don't really want to." The laughing voice caught her like a splash of
water across her face. "Besides, even if you did, you couldn't here. Maybe
break a leg, but that's all.
"Break a leg?" Lea's voice was dazed and, inside, something broke and cried
in disappointment, "I've spoken again!"
"Sure." Strong hands pulled her away from the railing and nudged her to a
seat in a little concrete kiosk sort of thing.
"You must be very new here, like on the nine-thirty bus tonight."
"Nine-thirty bus tonight," Lea echoed flatly.
" 'Cause if you'd been here by daylight you'd know this bridge is a snare and
a delusion as far as water goes. You couldn't drown a gnat in the river here.
It's dammed up above. Sand and tamarisks here, that's all. Besides you don't
want to die, especially with a lovely coat like that-almost new!"
"'Want to die," Lea echoed distantly. Then suddenly she jerked away from the
gentle hands and twisted away from the encircling arm.
"I do want to die! Go away!" Her voice sharpened as she spoke and she almost
spat the last word.
"But I told you!" The dim glow from the nearest light of the necklace of
lights that pearled the bridge shone on a smiling girl-face, not much older
than Lea's own. "You'd goof it up good if you tried to commit suicide here.
Probably lie down there in the sand all night, maybe with a sharp stub of a
tamarisk stuck through your shoulder and your broken leg hurting like mad. And
tomorrow the ants would find you, and the flies-the big blowfly kind. Blood
attracts them, you know. Your blood, spilling onto the sand."
Lea hid her face, her fingernails cutting into her hairline with the violence
of the gesture. This-this creature had no business peeling the oozing bleeding
scab off, she thought. It's so easy to think of lumping into darkness-into
nothingness, but not to think of blowflies and blood-your own blood.