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 TAROT WITCH

A RIFT WARS: ORIGINS SHORT STORY

JAMIE HAWKE
 CONTENTS

Welcome

Tarot Witch: A Short Story

Bracket Time!
About the Author
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 WELCOME

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WARNING: This book contains gratuitous violence and sexual

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Jamie Hawke

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 TAROT WITCH: A SHORT STORY

“M aybe she’s racist,” my friend Tosh said, sitting across

from me at our favorite tiki bar, this small joint in Los
Feliz, California.
“Shut the fuck up, dude, she’s not racist.” I laughed, throwing
back my way-too-sweet coconut something or other. It wasn’t that I
liked the drink, more the idea of it. The thought hit me, and I set the
drink down. “Shit, maybe she is… Or not racist, but—what do you
call it when you date a black guy because you like the idea of dating
a black guy?”
“Hell if I know, man, but you’ve gotta have a talk with her. Two
years and you still ‘don’t use labels,’ and that’s her call? No way. I’d
have wrapped that shit up.”
I motioned for the check, frowning as I considered it. The girl I’d
been seeing, a real beauty named Leena with a body to kill for, just
didn’t like the idea of labels. Every time I brought it up, she’d laugh,
wave me off, and change the subject. It was getting annoying, but
talking to Tosh wasn’t exactly helping.
“Anyway, man,” Tosh said, standing and not even bothering to
offer to pay for his drink. As always. “I gotta bounce, but you keep
me updated, yeah?”
He took off, giving me a wave and the old dude by the door in a
Marine Corps hat a fist bump—the guy was always there, always
sipping a rum, never saying a word.
 I considered the old Marine, nodded when he caught me staring,
and then turned back to pay my bill and call up Leena to see if we
were still on. Was it sad that I felt the need to have a drink before
building up the courage to ask her if she’d be willing to move in?
Forget labels and all that, just… share a bed?
I’d never lived with anyone before, although I couldn’t count the
number of girlfriends I’d had. So in a way, it felt like skipping a
pretty big step. Straight from girl I fuck five times a week for two
years straight, to girl I live with. No labels.
I sighed, paid and left a hefty tip, then made for the door.
“Ask me, don’t stress it,” a gravelly voice said. To my surprise, it
was the old Marine.
“Yeah?” I turned to him, seeing if he’d say more.
He took a sip from his rum, glanced around, and then leaned in.
“You ask me, there’re far more crazy things to be worried about than
whether your girl wants to call you her boyfriend. Fuck, get this—I
swear I saw my dead wife looking down from the ceiling at me last
night when I was sleeping. Fucking swear it. And…” He scowled,
looked like I’d just punched him, and then glanced down at his
drink. He put it down, waved to the bartender, and said, “I’ve had
too many of these,” and then stumbled off to the bathroom, not
even giving another glance my way.
Crazy old Marine. I chuckled to myself, still amazed he’d even
talked for once, and made my way to the car.
“Hellloooo,” a distant voice said. I glanced down at my phone
and cursed.
“Shit, Leena, sorry—forgot I’d called you.”
“Are you for real?” she laughed. “I was starting to think you’d
butt dialed me.”
“We meeting? I’m here at—”
“Ohhh, sorry.”
“Sorry as in… no?”
“No! Sorry as in, can you meet me at my job?” A long pause. “I
can make it up to you.”
“Dammit, you know I don’t like going there. It gives me the
willies.”
 “Don’t say ‘the willies.’” She laughed. “It makes you sound like
you’re ten years old.”
“Around that death stuff, I just don’t feel comfortable.” I turned
out toward the main road, debating which way to get there in L.A.
traffic on a Friday evening.
“It’s…” She sighed. “Johnny, I read tarot cards for a living, kinda.
The medium stuff is just on the side, for people who really need it.
Please don’t judge my fucking life.”
Damn, this was not how it was supposed to be going. I was
supposed to be buttering her up, reminding her how much she loved
me. Cared for me, at least? And then raise the question, offer her a
key to my place or see if she wanted to find a place together.
“I’m sorry.” I made it to my car, one of the older models. It still
hovered, at least. God, I wouldn’t be caught dead with anything that
had tires still. “I’ll be there as quick as I can. Cool?”
“Yeah, cool. See you soon.”
She did not sound thrilled. As I hopped in and swiped my hand
over the dash to get her purring, I considered how this would go.

The mood didn’t improve when I met her at the tarot card place.
Only, she was getting out of a cab.
She turned, saw me, and mouthed, “Fuck.”
I blinked, confused, and looked at her little shack, stuck between
two office buildings. No lights on. The door was probably locked.
“Care to… explain?” I asked.
“I had to go to a client’s home. Thought I’d be back before you
got here.” She came over, gave me a hug, then a kiss. But I was
cold, too confused to make it count.
“I help people who are grieving, okay? Over a loss. You have to
realize it’s not your everyday job.”
“And reading tarot cards does that?”
“It can.” She frowned. “All that other stuff, it’s just… side stuff.”
 “That requires you to get dropped off by a cab—hold up.” I
blinked, staring at the license plate as the car drove off. “That—that
was government. Not a cab at all.”
“Yeah…”
I took her by the shoulders, staring into her eyes. “Leena, please
make me understand this.”
She squirmed, breaking free, and going toward the shop. “Let’s
talk inside.” Sure enough, she pulled out her keys and unlocked the
door. I followed her in, waiting.
The lights came on, her creepy room with its curtains and tarot
table all making this much worse, in my opinion.
“Explain,” I said, because I was starting to think she was running
around with some government employee, or maybe a diplomat or
something.
Her eyes went wide at my tone, and she laughed. Well, scoffed,
more like it. “Johnny, stick with me, okay? Don’t get all weird. Listen,
I’m doing something, I don’t know… real, for once in my life.”
“Which is?”
“I can’t tell you.”
I frowned, shaking my head. “Not good enough.”
“Goddess, why am I defending myself to you?” She turned, going
to her table and taking a seat on the opposite side. “I can’t talk
about it. NDA.”
“What the fuck’s an NDA?” I frowned, shook my head. “Non-
disclosure agreement. Of course, I know that. But, come on, how
long have we been dating?” At the look in her eyes, I held up my
hands. “Don’t answer that, I know the answer, I mean. Two years.
Two years, and you’re telling me you can’t even let me know where
you go off to late hours?”
“That’s right.”
“And if I think you’re cheating on me, if I’m ready to—”
She leaned in, eyes boring into me. “Don’t you fucking finish that
sentence.”
Shit, she looked hot when she was angry.
“I was going to… I mean, before this. I wanted to ask what you
thought about the idea of moving in together.”
 She stared at me, completely caught off guard. “What?”
“You know. I know you’re not into the whole ‘relationship’ by
traditional standards thing, but… Maybe it’s a different type of
commitment? One where we can spend more time together, but still
not have labels.”
She laughed, but luckily it wasn’t a ‘laugh-in-my-face’ type of
laugh. It was a cute, adorable laugh. A pleased laugh, I noted, as
she leaned in. I followed the cue, taking her hands. “What do you
say?”
She bit her lip. Nodded. “Okay. Yes. Sure.”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s try it.”
I frowned, motioning to her table with the cards. “Why’d you
looked so surprised? Aren’t you supposed to be able to read the
future or something?”
She laughed, frowned, and then laughed again. “Shut up and get
over here, I want you to kiss me before you say anything else that’s
liable to piss me off.”
A smart man knows when to kiss a woman, and I was happy to
oblige. And when her tongue met mine, sweet like the cherry gum
she’d been chewing, I couldn’t help but lean in, hands moving for
her pants. Her hand ran up my thigh, caressing the edge of my
bulge, but then she paused, pulled back. Looked around.
“Let’s go to your place.”
I glanced around too, very much ready to go, but totally
agreeing. Not here. The dark tones, the creepy cards… it all
reminded me of the Marine talking about seeing his dead wife. It
even bothered me that she took her cards with her. Like they’d be
watching us or something.
“I’ll drive,” I said, and we were off in a jiffy, all of our arguing
forgotten about.
The whole drive back we didn’t talk about her work situation
once. As soon as we were in my place, tossing aside coats and keys,
she led me to the shower to make it all up to me. Clothes on the
floor, steaming water caressing nude skin, she stuck out her ass and
put her hands on the wall.
 I was ready, running my cock along her ass, slapping her with it,
and then teasing her asshole.
She pulled away, yelping. “Wrong hole!”
“Oh, I thought that was an invitation—”
With a laugh, she reached down and led me to her pussy, so that
I was doing her from behind, able to reach around and grab her slick
breasts and kiss her neck. Her orgasm came soon, her fists
pounding the tiled wall. Soon she was turned around, cleaning my
cock with soap and then rinsing it, grinning at me with anticipation.
She knelt out of the shower stream, taking me full in her mouth and
going at it until I tensed up, barely able to stand, and let loose all
over her. The convenience of going at it in the shower—she was
immediately able to rinse herself, and soon we were pressed
together, kissing, all problems forgotten. For the moment, anyway.

Days passed, and she kept coming home late. Still coming in at
crazy times, even going to work on Saturdays! At one point I was
sitting there watching Gladiator for the hundredth time—having
discovered it when going through a list of the classics—when I heard
the door click.
“Finally,” I called out, standing and quickly picking up the Pringles
I’d spilled and been too enthralled to bother with. “I was thinking, I
kinda skipped dinner so maybe we should order pizza?”
No response.
I put the Pringles on the little table by the window, heading to
the hallway to see what was up. We hadn’t had a fight since that
night when I’d asked her to move in, and while she hadn’t
technically moved in yet, she’d spent every night over at my place
since then. But there was no sign of her. Looking left, I wondered if
she’d snuck past me and made it to the bedroom already, so I
started back that way. The wood floor creaked as it always did, my
voice going higher than I meant it to when I called out for her again.
Still nothing.
 I checked the bedroom and then the bathroom, frowned, and
then looked back at the door. I could’ve sworn I’d heard it click, but
now that I thought about it, maybe it had been a neighbor? The
doors were loud, and sound carried in this old building. I was about
to give up and go back to the couch in the other room when I saw a
light on in the en suite bathroom. A moment ago, I could’ve sworn I
hadn’t seen a light, but I frowned, rubbed my eyes, and walked over.
Clearly I was more tired than I’d realized.
“Leena, this isn’t funny.” Another click, then the sound of
sobbing. Light, distant. I stepped up and opened the door, or tried to
—it didn’t budge. The doorknob was cold, slippery.
When I stepped back in shock, the light went out.
“Fuck…” I muttered, then slammed my fist on the door. “Open
up! This isn’t funny!”
A shadow moved behind me and I spun, hating the way my heart
was thudding, sending blood coursing around my skull. The room
suddenly smelled like burning candles and… sage?
I took a step back, stumbled, and BAM! Hit my head, everything
going red and dark, and then Leena was there, at my side, the light
on.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Shit, you had me scared.”
When I didn’t reply, she pulled out her phone, starting to dial 9-
1-1.
“No,” I mumbled, reaching out and moving her phone away from
her ear. “I’m—I’m fine. I think.”
“Jonny…”
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, pushing myself up, all of what
happened coming back to me.
“Excuse me?”
“Playing like that, of course I’m gonna get hurt.”
She stared at me, then at her phone. “I think we need to get you
to a hospital. You hit your head and—”
“Stop. Just… don’t do it again.”
“Jonny, I came home late and found you on the floor groaning
just now.” She helped me up, then over to the bed.
 I stared at her, trying to decide if I believed what she was saying.
Finally, I shook my head. “Someone was here.”
“You’re sure?” Her eyes took on that distant look they had when
she was holding something back from me. And now that I was
focused on her, it was clear there was something going on. Her light
pink hair, usually so well-kept—short and just below her shoulders—
had a wild frizz going on, and there were bags under her eyes.
Focusing on her eyes, it was hard not to notice how bloodshot they
were.
“Work again?” I asked, focusing on what she’d said. “You need to
tell them to fuck off.”
“Jonny.” She shook her head, frowning. “That’s not helpful.”
“Look at you!” I stood up, pausing to put a hand on the wall for
balance before gesturing at myself. “For that matter, look at me. At
us. This—this is what that place is doing to us, and I don’t even
know what that place is.”
She buried her face in her hands, letting out a frustrated growl.
“Dammit, I’m telling you, this is bigger than us. This is huge.”
“Bigger than… us?” Now I was leaning against the wall for
emotional as well as physical support. “You’re saying if I put my foot
down? If I said it was me or this new job, what? You’d break up with
me?”
Her eyes met mine, cold. “We can’t break up, if…”
“Oh, fuck you.” I stormed out of the room, not ready to hear the
rest of it. She was going to say ‘if we’re not a couple to begin with.’
Her and her hatred of labels.
I don’t even know where I meant to go, but ended up plopping
down in front of the television, where Gladiator was still paused.
Only, it was the scene where Russell Crowe’s character finally dies
(spoiler!), and I noticed someone in the reflection—short, in a
strange little outfit. Like a Bavarian maid? Turning around, I was
almost not surprised to see nobody there. I turned back to the
television, but the reflection was gone.
Maybe Leena was right, maybe I needed to go to the hospital.
But when I stood up to tell her to call, an eerie chanting from the
other room made me pause. Creeping toward the room, I paused at
the doorway to look in and saw her with hands outstretched,
muttering some sort of incantation.
I shook my head, wondering if I was imagining things, because I
could’ve sworn there were little lights moving around her head,
almost like jellyfish.
Fuck it, maybe I just needed sleep. Instead of bothering with any
of this, I stumbled back to the couch, laid down, and promptly
drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, as she put on her elaborate fortune telling outfit
—Chinese inspired and cute, but showing more cleavage than I was
okay with, she mentioned meeting her aunt for dinner that evening.
Of course, she had to go to work again. I was about to lose it, but
then just waved a hand, realizing I was starting to really not give a
shit. If she didn’t want to be around me, we’d figure it out.
Ironically, since she’d moved in our sex life had gone downhill fast.
Maybe it was the arguments, or the fact that she was always
completely exhausted.
Either way, I took matters into my own hands after she left, ate a
bowl of granola with raisins, and then laid back down to take a nap.
For a few minutes I lay there with my eyes closed, trying not to
think about it all. There was no denying I was bitter, but I’d
determined it was time to get over it. Or maybe I was starting to
think back on the idea that she might be cheating on me. My mind
flip-flopped, not sure where to land. NDAs were one thing, but this
was too much, I thought as I drifted off to sleep again.
My dreams took me to an even worse place, images of her going
down on me only for me to suddenly be in the room, some other
guy in my place. Me banging on a glass wall that made no sound.
Then I was up with a startled, confused jolt.
A hand was on my mouth. My eyes adjusted to see Leena
hovering over me, a finger to her lips, her eyes wide.
“I fucked up,” she whispered.
 I moved her hand aside, starting to prop myself up. “If this is
your idea of an apology—”
She knocked me back, hand on my mouth again. “Shh, shhhhh.”
I was about to push her away again, but the look in her eyes
wasn’t sorrow or guilt, it was true fear. A look I had never seen on
her before, and one that didn’t leave me with any idea what to do
next. She nodded, apparently seeing I’d gotten the message. Next
she pulled back, motioning for me to go to the closet, where she
followed, waving her hands around the room in a very mystical way.
Again, I wanted to say something. To ask what the hell she was
doing… but remembering the fear in her eyes, I went with it.
Admittedly, a hint of fear had now begun to creep up on me.
Mostly I was annoyed. If there was an intruder in the house, she
didn’t think I could handle it? We crept across to the closet, but my
eyes darted over to the bathroom door, where light was showing
through the cracks. Something was very off here. For one, I’d gone
to sleep not long after waking up in the morning. There was no way
it should be this dark, no way I could’ve slept all through the day.
“What time is it?” I asked, but she held a finger to her mouth.
I frowned, losing sight of her as we climbed in and she pulled the
door shut so that we were in complete darkness. A thought hit me. I
remembered she’d once expressed an interest in getting more
creative in the bedroom. Since our sex life had taken a hit, maybe
this was her idea of effort? I decided to play the role, reaching out,
finding her ass, running my hand along its curve to—
“Cut it out,” she hissed, and then the door rattled as if someone
were trying to open it.
Silence.
Then the door thudded, rattling harder and harder, Leena
screaming as I tried to see in the darkness, to understand what was
going on. Telling myself this wasn’t happening, I went for the
doorknob, almost—but saw it glowing red. Straight out of Home
Alone.
From the glow, I could see Leena’s expression, slightly, as she
gripped my arm, looking horrified.
“Don’t leave me, Jonny,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sorry.”
 Again with the rattling, and I held her close.
“Tell me. I need to know what’s happening.”
“Someone… one of the girls went missing today. And then the
whole way home I thought I was seeing things. Maybe hallucinating?
But I don’t think so, now. They’re after me.”
“Who? What’s going on?”
“The spirits… or ghosts, demons maybe? Whatever they are.”
She shuddered, pressing tighter to me.
“What. The. Fuck… What the fuck are you talking about?”
Silence, the lights returning as a sliver of light through a crack in the
door.
She looked up at me, then to the doorknob—no longer glowing.
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
The expression on her face was one I’d certainly never seen on
her before. Fright, confusion… hopelessness?
“Leena, I’m here. I’m here for you.”
“You won’t be enough.”
That hurt, but I ignored it. “Tell me.”
“We need to get out of here first, get to my aunt’s house.”
“For dinner?”
She shook her head, reaching cautiously for the doorknob. “She’s
like me, one of us. She’ll know what to do.”
“A fortune teller?” I asked.
Leena opened the door, glanced around, and said, “More like a
witch. Now, run!”
The words barely out of her mouth, she took off at a sprint. I
hesitated, staring slack-jawed at the mess in our room—blankets
shredded and tossed everywhere, and what looked like blood on the
walls. Holy shit, if this was some sort of prank she was playing on
me, she wasn’t holding back.
To my surprise, I found myself believing everything she was
saying, and ran like a madman to catch up. Hey, at least I wasn’t
wondering if she was cheating on me anymore, as I was too busy
freaking out about whatever was happening here and wondering
how it related to her job.
 We charged outside and made it to the car without any
problems, but my hands were shaking as I drove.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” I asked as I turned, heading
toward North Glendale. “A girl went missing, and… whatever just
happened to my place?”
“Our place.” She said it as if on instinct, and it served as a bit of
an anchor for my emotions in this storm. “And yes, I mean, a
woman. Like me, on my team. She’s just… gone. And weird things
have been happening since.”
“How does the government use a medium, exactly? And how
does that relate to what you’re telling me?”
“It’s—”
“Complicated. Secret.” I swerved, realizing I was drifting and had
almost hit the next car over. “Dammit, it’s time you told me. I can
handle it.”
“You think so, but—”
“Leena.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Fine.” A moment of silence passed as I merged again, then she
turned to face me, hand on my leg. “It wasn’t the government,
although they were involved, too. They’ve been looking into it,
poking their nose around. Asking everyone questions—which is why
I was in that car. But it wasn’t them, not really. It was LivreCorp.”
“The game company?”
“Games, simulations…” She indicated for me to watch the road.
“Yeah. About a month ago, when all this started, someone came into
my shop and said they didn’t want their future told, but had use of
my experience as a medium. At first I turned him down. The guy
wore this fancy suit and just felt off in so many ways. But then he
came back, and brought the other ladies. They explained to me what
this was, that it was a simulation to help grieving parties, just like
we did all the time. They were part of this group from out east, and
had sensed my ability to reach into the beyond.”
“What the fuck does this have to do with a gaming company?”
 “Again, gaming and simulations,” she said, showing her irritation.
“And that’s what I’m getting at. They were creating a simulation to
let grieving parties interact with their lost loved ones. Data miners,
people from the FBI and whatnot who were experts at digging up all
the information on someone that could possibly be found, they were
pulling all of these people together to make the simulated lost loved
one as real as possible.”
“That’s… creepy.”
“I don’t think so, or didn’t.” She pulled her hand away, turning
back in her seat and staring out her window. “I thought it was
something I could get behind. They wanted our help, so that they
could better understand how to help people. What grieving parties
need to move on, to get closure. And… maybe more.”
“Hold up,” I said, finally getting it. “They wanted you to try and
actually reach out to the dead.” My hands gripped the steering wheel
as I tried to process this. “The company, and the government—
however they were involved—they… they hired actual mediums to
try and interact with the dead to make this simulation more
realistic.”
“More or less.”
“That’s so insane, so stupid!” I grimaced as I realized how
offensive what I was saying had to be to her, given that this was her
job and all. “Listen, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You said it because you meant it, because you didn’t believe.”
She turned back to me again, and I glanced over. There wasn’t
much to worry about, as the roads were uncharacteristically empty,
even for a Sunday. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned closer. “But
can you still say you have doubts after what you saw?”
“I’m still not sure what I saw.”
She laughed. “Wow. That right there? That’s what we call denial.”
Finding our exit, I pulled onto the offramp, cautious as I knew I
was tired and on edge. “Let’s assume… for the sake of argument,
that my place was haunted or being attacked by spirits, ghosts—”
“Maybe demons.”
“Sure, okay, demons, too.” I sighed, coming to a halt at the stop
sign, then turning to her fully. “We’re trying to escape them by going
to your aunt’s house, because, as I recall you saying, she’s a witch.”
“That all checks out.”
“Except that it doesn’t, Leena. Nothing I said really checks out.”
A loud honking sounded, reminding me that I’d been stationary
at the stop sign for quite some time. I waved a hand in the mirror
and checked the streets, continuing on our way. The silence that
followed was almost as haunting as the chaos of my room, giving
me a chance to think back on all of the ghost and demonic movies
and books I’d been exposed to over the years. How could any of
that be real?
“Wait, what you’re saying,” I made a groaning sound, not sure
where it came from, “how? I mean, I get that you did the job, but
how does that connect to what you’re telling me?”
“We went too far, and I think opened some sort of gateway to
the afterlife. We played with fire, now the flames are leaping out of
the firepit, threatening to burn down the whole forest.”
“So this other lady then, she might have somehow gone over?”
“What?” she turned to me with a jolt.
“Through a portal or something, to the afterlife. Right?”
She leaned back, hands on her face, and cursed. “I honestly…
had… no… idea.” She sat up again, eager. “The thought hadn’t even
crossed my mind. But if so, maybe that means we can go through,
too. Find her, bring her back.”
“You want to go into the afterlife?” I slowed, much to the
annoyance of cars behind me. “Like… die?”
“No, like her. No death.”
I had to process this. “You actually think there’s a way to go into
the portal? Have you seen one?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t, but if she vanished like that,
then yes, I believe it has to be possible.”
Finally, we pulled up at her aunt’s house. I’d only ever dropped
her off before today, not gone in with her. Going up to the door felt
awkward, but seeing the old lady glare at me when she opened the
door, not moving aside to let me in, confirmed how this was going to
go.
“He knows,” Leena explained.
 Her aunt Cindy glared at me, shook her head, and said, “You
shouldn’t have told him.”
“They came for him. What choice did I have?”
“Came?” Cindy eyed me, ran a tongue over her teeth, and then
finally nodded me inside.
The room was lined with various candles of different colors, lit
with crystals in key points, but even more, there were runes and
other etchings carved into boards set up, even the walls near the
doorway and windows. It had the feel of a crazy old lady’s place,
and maybe that’s exactly what it was. Two canaries were on a perch
by the doorway, no cage, but at least there was newspaper on the
floor below them although it was covered in bird shit and needed to
be changed. Other than that, there was the bead curtain leading to
a side room, which I imagined was where she and Leena did their
medium work. Leena had told me all about her aunt, how the
woman had taken her in when her parents had been killed in a
horrible break-in. How she’d taught her to deal with grief, to even
reach out to the other side. And that had led to who Leena was
today, the Leena I knew and was infatuated with, so I had to
appreciate that. With everything she’d gone through, I was in no
place to judge her for such an off-key lifestyle.
In a way, it was an honor to finally meet the woman who’d
played such a large role in Leena’s upbringing. But also, it was like
finally meeting the President only to find out his left eye twitches
every two seconds—it leaves you wondering.
“You… really listened.” Leena said, eyes wide, looking at the
candles and all.
“Yes, well… this is uncharted territory.” Cindy looked me over,
nose scrunching. “We don’t know what’ll really work, do we? Tell
me, boy,” she walked in a circle, eyes seemingly looking past me, as
if trying to see my soul. “How much magic do you know?”
“Sorry?”
“Magic. What type do you study? How long have you been a
witch?”
“He’s not, aunty,” Leena cut in.
 “Bullshit.” Cindy waved a hand around my head, then frowned.
“There’s something about him, though, isn’t there?”
“Yeah?” Leena looked at me as if considering. “There was a
certain draw to him when we first met. Maybe…”
“What?” I shook my head, not ready to listen to them telling me
I had a magical aura or anything weird like that. At the moment, all I
wanted to know was how to return everything to normal.
A howling sounded, my eyes going to the window. The tall
evergreen out there had its branches blowing like crazy, so I had to
hope the sound was the wind.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but my next breath caught in my
throat at the look of worry in Leena’s eyes. Her aunt was already at
her crystals, going back over to check what I was thinking must be
runes carved into the door frame, and then returning to usher us
into the back room.
“The wards will hold,” Cindy said.
We found ourselves in a room very similar to the area where
Leena worked with her tarot cards, and the two entered into a spell
ritual in a way that reminded me of a prayer circle. I’d never seen
this part of Leena, and as much as I was not the slightest bit into
this—if anything, I’d been raised a Baptist, so… yeah—it was kind of
hot. Like my lady friend was some sort of real version of Hermione
Granger, only hotter and much more real.
I had to chuckle at that thought.
Leena’s eyes darted up at me, narrowing, and I wondered what
was wrong with me that I could find humor in a moment like this?
The wind was still howling outside, the lights even seemed to flicker,
though I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. Yet, I was smiling, enjoying
myself. Maybe it was part of their spell?
She couldn’t hide the upturn of her lip as she returned to the
chant with Cindy.
A pounding sounded and I startled, the smile gone. We all locked
eyes, frozen in place, until Yankee Doodle started playing from a
blinking device on the wall, and Cindy sighed.
“The doorbell,” Leena explained when I looked to her in
confusion, and Cindy was already brushing past me to head back out
to the door.
We followed, and when she opened it, I noticed two things right
away—one was the fact that it was sunny and there seemed to be
no wind. The second was a cute Asian woman, probably a year or
two younger than Leena, standing there in a black schoolgirl uniform
with a purple bow around her waist, hair at shoulder length and
curving in slightly under at the ends. Her eyes darted from Cindy to
me, then to Leena.
“Something’s not right,” the woman said, nodding to Cindy. “We
have to go.”
“This isn’t the best…” Cindy frowned my way, then nodded. “Yes,
okay.” She said a few words in Chinese, then grabbed her bag and
returned to the door, while this woman and Leena made eye contact,
something unspoken there that I couldn’t begin to read.
“What’s going on?” I hissed at Leena.
“The coven,” she threw my way, then addressed her aunt, not
the newcomer. “And us?”
“Stay put,” her aunt replied, closing the door for a moment,
turning our way. “Wait. Scratch that. You said this all started at
LivreCorp? A girl missing? Go, find answers. If it started there, that’s
where we’ll find our answers.”
With that, she nodded, heading for the door. The two left without
another look in our direction. Leena looked at me, worry etched
across her face as she gave me a quick kiss.
“Give them a minute, then we’ll go. We have our next move.”
I wanted to ask why I had to go, but hey, that wasn’t exactly a
boyfriend thing to say, so I nodded, standing tall. Maybe my attempt
at looking brave wasn’t working, I don’t know, but I certainly wasn’t
going to confirm how terrified I was by putting it into words.

“What do you mean I don’t have access?” Leena grumbled, looking

like she was about to launch herself right over the desk and strangle
the security guard at LivreCorp. The building was everything I’d
expected it to be—tall with plenty of work space and multiple floors,
large signs showing off their fancy simulated worlds and flashing
holo images for their ads.
“Says here you no longer work here,” the guard said. “That your
contract has been terminated.”
“Bullshit.” Leena took a step closer, eyes narrowing as his hand
went to his taser. “Call my supervisor, Matt Gillis. He’s leading the—”
“Matt’s been let go, too,” the man said. “In fact,” he checked the
screen, “yeah, according to this they’ve sent out notices that you’re
not to mention ever having worked here. Right now, talking about
this in front of him,” he nodded my way, “is breaking contract. You
need to scram, or all pay will be subject to—”
“Oh, fuck off.” She spun on her heels, going for the door.
“What’s going on?” I asked, knowing she didn’t really have a
clue.
She led the way through the sliding doors, back to the car, and
held out her hands. “I’m driving.”
“Um…” Seeing the look in her eyes, I nodded and tossed the
keyfob over. “Not that you need it as long as I’m in the car, but
sure.”
She glared. Of course she knew that. A moment later we were in
the car, driving off. Her posture was hunched forward, fingers
wrapping and unwrapping around the steering wheel as she
mumbled.
Finally, I broke the silence. “We’re going back, right?”
She nodded.
“After hours?”
She nodded again.
“Damn. Breaking and entering… new on my checklist of things to
do.”
The look of anger transformed to a wicked smile. “I can’t wait.
And when we leave, you’re going to drop a deuce on the security
guard’s desk.”
“No fucking way.”
“Yes, you are.”
 “I can’t do that and—hey, that was a red light!” I spun, glancing
around for cops, glad to see traffic wasn’t too bad and we hadn’t
caused any accidents. “You want to ‘drop a deuce,’ you do it.”
“Jonny, ladies don’t do that.”
“No, they just tell their boyfriends to.”
The word lingered there, neither of us addressing it for the
longest moment. Finally, she relaxed her grip on the wheel and
leaned back, glancing at me.
“You know—”
“Yeah, got it. Slip of the tongue.”
She looked back to the road. “No, I was going to say—”
BAM! The car jolted as something slammed into us. Then came
the screeching noise of car-on-car as she swerved away. We turned
to see a car, dented, about to slam into us again. The crazy-looking
overweight man behind the wheel had a shaved head and tattoos up
his neck, but what really caught my attention in the brief moment I
was able to see him was his glowing, red eyes.
That wasn’t normal.
“Shit!” Leena shouted and swerved to avoid him, pulling into the
lane that went against traffic, and then turning again as he pursued.
Again he slammed into us, this time from the rear. Our car lost
control, going over the side of a small hill and side-slamming into an
old rundown parking garage.
She tried driving off but the car wasn’t moving, the hover
stuttering and then fading so that we fell to the ground. The shock
of impact jolted us, leaving us groaning as we unbuckled and made
our way out of the car.
“Quick, in here,” I shouted, and we ran down into the parking
garage.
We made our way in through the staircase, darting along old,
rusted cars—the kinds with wheels. This place was clearly
abandoned long ago. A crash sounded, confirming that the man was
not giving up. He was relentlessly continuing his pursuit.
I had nothing. A fucking demon-possessed man was after us and
I didn’t even have a damn knife. Leena was searching herself for a
weapon, cursing, until her hand went into her coat pocket and she
pulled it back as if burned. Actually, there was what looked like
green smoke rising from her finger.
Frowning, she grabbed the crystal around her neck with one
hand, reached into her jacket pocket with her other, and pulled out a
card.
“The tarot cards,” she said, voice full of confusion and awe.
I could see why—it wasn’t just one of her cards. It was one of
her cards but with a green flame running along the top. It was the
card with a tower on it, cracked with lightning and flame images.
“Is that… normal?” I asked.
“Never happened before,” she replied.
The possessed man came scurrying around the corner, eyes
flaring, actual flames licking out of them, and his hands looked like
they had long claws, although it could’ve been a trick of the
shadows.
He charged at us and I stepped forward to meet him. Only, from
my side Leena held out the card, and I turned to see she was still
holding onto her crystal with the other hand, mouthing something as
she did so. Her eyes took on a bright, green glow, and a blue light
formed around the card. Then with a flash, a bolt of lightning shot
out from the card as it vanished, the lightning slamming into the
man and sending him flying back. He hit the far wall and collapsed,
a smoking pile of corpse.
“By the goddess,” she said, her now-empty hand going to her
mouth. She looked like she was about to scream, but instead, fell to
her knees. The green slowly faded from her eyes, leaving them their
normal brown.
I was in such a state of disbelief, I walked over to the corpse,
rolled him over with my foot, and stared. He was dead. No doubt
about it.
“What now?” I asked, staring as the glow faded from the man’s
eyes, his body shriveling unnaturally.
“I don’t know. Oh fuck, oh fuck.”
I nodded. Oh fuck, was right. “We gotta go. We need to… I don’t
know. Shit! We just killed a man!”
 “Not a man, exactly,” she said, breathing deep and pushing
herself to her feet. “But yes, the cops won’t see it my way.” She bit
her lip, took my hand, and said, “Come on.”
“You have something in mind?”
A nod. “We need to find my aunt, the coven. That girl you saw at
my aunt’s place, she’s… the best, or so I hear. We’ll find a
supernatural solution to this.”
Based on what I’d just seen, that seemed to be the best possible
plan. Together, we ran off. If we were lucky, we’d find a way to fight
this insanity. For now, I just hoped we survived long enough to find
her aunt. After that, who knew what was possible.
The car was toast, but to our relief, the demon’s wasn’t. Its side
was bashed in and took some back and forth to get it unhinged from
the building, but soon we were on our way, cruising down the
streets in a very smashed-up Audi.
For a few minutes I simply drove, the two of us in silence. When
you go through something like that, your mind takes some time to
get back to its normal operating speed. The world stopped spinning,
the dryness in my mouth slowly dissipated, and I found questions
bubbling up.
“Did you know this kind of thing was out there?” I asked. “I
mean, have you been fighting evil forces at night or something, like
a Harry Potter version of Batman, and not told me about it?”
“No!” she protested. “Goddess, no. Magic, or at least, magic as I
knew it to exist, was never so different from, like, Christianity.
Meaning, we have our spell circles and all that, and believe in it, but
nobody casting fireballs from their tits or anything like that.”
“Nice imagery there.”
“You get what I’m saying.” She leaned back, groaning. “This is so
fucked up!”
“You had to have known this was coming, right? I mean, it’s your
fault.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your fault. Isn’t it? Isn’t this all connected to that weird
LivreCorp project you were working on?”
 She sniffled, ran a hand through her hair, and then sighed. “In a
sense, yes. Or maybe completely, yeah. Me and the others. There
was even a coven of witches who were trying to stop us. Sending
threats and whatnot.”
“Oh.” I let that process, then had a thought. “Is it possible they, I
don’t know how it works, hexed you or something? Like maybe they
did something that made the work you were doing get corrupted,
so… it’s their fault this happened?”
“Like they thought we were playing with fire, so lit a match to
show us,” she looked physically pained at the thought, “and
accidentally created an explosion?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Damn, I mean… does it matter?” Her voice went low, trembling.
“Regardless, we’re in the shit now. I hope my aunt and the others
have something for us.”
“Speaking of…” I glanced over, noticing the tired look in her eyes.
“Damn, are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I think whatever happened back there, with the
card… I think it really took it out of me.”
“Get some sleep. But first, mind telling me where we’re going?”
“Ah, yeah.” She took my phone, told it where to go based on
some information on hers, and then swiped up so the screen with
the map projected above the dash.
A few heartbeats later she was asleep, her heavy breathing
adding a calming effect to the gentle purr of the engine. Our route,
which was taking us past tall buildings and fluorescent lights, people
going about their daily lives without a clue as to what was
happening, gave me the opportunity to collect myself.
Was this really so bad? I mean, at least she wasn’t cheating on
me. I chuckled at that thought, and at the realization that I’d rather
be going up against a demon army and play with magic than have
her messing around. That had to say something about my feelings
for her.
And she had agreed to move in with me, so even if she wasn’t
into labels, that meant something, too. Now we were in this crazy
situation together, and I wasn’t sure what could bring two people
closer together than fighting a demon. Putting a hand on hers as she
slept, my other on the wheel, I had the calm feeling that everything
was just as it should be.
My mind even wandered off to thoughts of work and what it
would be like going back into the restaurant I managed, or if I’d
have to. In a way, I was used to dealing with demons. Shit,
customers, crazy cooks, the occasional illegal washing of dishes? It
was the best training for a situation like this that I could think of.

“You have arrived,” the GPS told us, and I pulled up to an old
building that sat alone with a grass field on one side, a half-torn
down residence on the other.
“Arrived… where?”
Leena awoke with a long, stretching yawn, causing something to
stir in me that I’d almost forgotten about, my mind racing back to
the two of us in the shower. Sometimes people get complacent in
relationships, forget how hot their partners are. With her, I couldn’t
ever imagine that being the case.
“This is it,” she said. “I’ve only ever been here once before, but
it’s a hard place not to recognize.” She sat up and gave me a kiss on
the cheek. “Thanks for driving.”
I smiled, shrugged, and said, “Thanks for killing the demon
thing.”
She laughed, and we headed in. Before we could knock or try the
handle, the door opened to reveal Cindy, eyes wild.
“Everything’s changed,” Cindy said, almost hesitant to let us in.
She gave me a look like I didn’t belong, a look I thought we’d moved
past.
“We know,” Leena replied.
A look came over Cindy’s eyes as she ran her hand over her
niece, and then that hand went to her mouth as her eyes went wide.
“A demon?”
“As best we can figure it, yeah.”
 “Eyes glowing and all,” I added, not sure how she knew, but
rolling with it. “And then Leena—”
Cindy grabbed my arm, shook her head, and then pulled me in.
“Not out here.”
She led us into the house, past a room where a man looked out
to see what was up. Candles burned, a woman standing in the
middle of a circle. So there were male witches, too. I guess that
made sense. He nodded curtly, looking at me as if I’d been
expected, and then ducked back in.
“When you said ‘everything’s changed,’ I’m guessing you meant
something on the level we dealt with?” Leena asked.
Cindy nodded, opening the right side of a set of double doors,
leading us into a larger room with folded tables and chairs pushed
off to the back of the room. A stage with a piano was beyond that,
and I had to figure this was some sort of community center or
something.
“I’m going to show you,” Cindy said. “Whether we should be
showing him or not, I can’t decide, but it seems he’s already in
deep, regardless.”
“It would seem,” I said with a scoff, earning a glare from both of
them.
Cindy paused, then indicated another door on the far side of the
room. “It’s… through there.”
The door had a small window in it, covered with a cloth. Light
showed through, purple, changing to blue. Then green.
“What’s through there?” I asked, still shaken from everything
we’d seen that day and not sure I was ready for more. Judging by
the look in her eyes as she merely pointed, not answering, I was out
of luck.
Cindy nodded, indicating for us to go.
I took Leena’s hand in mine as the two of us trudged over, her
hesitancy giving me the sense that this wasn’t normal for her, either.
She paused at the door, then pushed. Inside, a dark shape was
hovering above the floor over a triangle of light, candles around it
with the girl from earlier in a circle that had been drawn on the floor,
or carved maybe, that connected to the triangle.
 We stepped into the room, the door closing behind us, and the
dark shape turned to face us. It was small, almost round, but had
thick arms and a strange head that seemed to lack eyes. Whatever
this was, it clearly didn’t belong on Earth. In a flash it lunged, arms
swinging wildly at the magical barrier that held it, and then it was
gone.
What remained was a shimmer in the air, a ripple around it as if
we were staring at a vertical pond and someone had just tossed in a
pebble. The girl wobbled, and I darted forward to catch her as she
fell out of the circle.
“Set her over here,” Leena said, helping me pull her towards
some cushions against the wall. They were like thick blankets with
what looked like Central Asian patterns of blue and yellow weaving
on them. “Tam, Tam, are you with us?”
The girl, Tam, groaned and her eyes opened to see me cradling
her like that. She smiled at Leena. “We’re getting this started
already?”
I frowned in confusion with a look at Leena, but she just shook
her head.
“Wh—what was that?” Leena asked, making me glad I wasn’t the
only one lost there.
“A rift… has been opened,” Tam said, looking almost let down
when I moved back. She pushed herself up to a seated position, legs
folded under her and off to the side. “We weren’t sure, but we
started testing, checking for interference from the spiritual realms,
the afterlife… it’s all unwinding. It’s… I don’t know, crossing over?”
“So that thing…?” I asked, not sure how to refer to it.
“I wish I knew.”
She massaged her temples for a moment, then looked at Leena.
“Whatever’s happened, it’s going to be so much bigger than we can
even imagine right now. And us, I think we’re going to be at the
front lines of it.”
“This isn’t our fight,” Leena countered.
“If it’s our fault, it’s our fight.”
Leena furrowed her brow, but clearly didn’t have a counter to
that.
 Turning to me, Tam’s eyes took on that same look Cindy had
when assessing my aura. When Leena finally cleared her throat at
the awkwardness of the moment, Tam said, “He’s going to play a big
part in this too, I can tell.”
“You said something about ‘getting this started,’” Leena said, a
hint of unease in her voice. “What exactly were you referring to?”
“I know you might not be ready, or comfortable with it, but if
your aunt is right…” She pushed herself up, smoothed out her skirt,
and then stared into my eyes. No longer looking past me or at my
aura, but looking at me with a small bite of her lip. “We have to
unlock his… potential. “ She stepped up to me, eyes focused on
mine as she started unbuttoning her shirt.
“Tam…” Leena’s eyes were going from her to me and back again,
but I couldn’t read her expression. It was almost like she wanted
this to happen, but didn’t know how I felt about it. To be honest, I
didn’t know how I felt about it.
“Your aunt told me the whole story,” Tam said. “This aura of his,
this something special. Wouldn’t it be better to find out what it is
sooner than later?”
“We don’t know what we’re up against, or if he can handle it.”
“I can handle—”
“Shh,” they both shushed me at once.
I frowned, about to push back, but then thought better of it.
Leena wasn’t protesting out of a sense of sexual fidelity or anything
like that, but because of some magic reason. This lady, Tam, was
certainly nothing to scoff at, and having her help unlock something
within me, especially if that meant her removing her clothes, didn’t
sound like the worst thing in the world.
“He’s not a guinea pig,” Leena protested.
“No, he’s… what exactly?” Tam grinned, mischievously. “Your
boyfriend?”
Leena’s eyes darted to the floor, lips pursed.
When Tam turned to me again, I shrugged and explained, “We
don’t like labels.”
“Is that so?” Tam smiled wide now, reminding me of the Cheshire
cat. “Well, Mr. Not-Boyfriend…” She undid more of her shirt, untying
the purple bow as well, so that it all fell open and exposed a
lavender bra beneath, the soft mounds of her breasts pushed up.
“Are you ready to find out what sort of role you’ll play here?”
My eyes went back to Leena, who was still staring at the ground.
Before I had a chance to say anything one way or another, though,
Cindy burst through the doors.
“They’re almost here. I don’t know how, but they’ve found us.”
“Who?” Leena asked, clearly glad to have a distraction.
“The eastern coven,” Cindy stated, eyes taking in the situation
and Tam with her shirt open, but surprisingly not showing any
thoughts on it one way or the other. “It’s done then?”
“What?” Leena asked, her eyes moving to Tam. “You knew about
this?”
“It’ll take more than one of us,” Cindy explained.
“I… see.” Tam took a deep breath. Then nodded.
“Doesn’t matter though, because it’ll have to wait.” Several other
witches followed Cindy into the room, including the man and woman
I’d caught glimpses of on the way in. “We’re on the move.”
“We’re running from them?” Leena asked.
“Not running, just… staying clear. There’s something off about it
all—I saw it in the cards. We don’t want to have to deal with them
right now, so… move it.”
All of us went for the back door while two of the strangers
started doing their best to remove signs of their ever having been
there. Cindy shouted at them that there wasn’t time, and they
followed us out the back door, to a parking lot where a couple of
other cars waited. We piled in, me in the back seat of one with
Leena on one side of me, Tam on the other. I was about to ask what
was so bad about this other group, when I felt a hand on my leg.
I glanced down, expecting the hand that was now moving up my
thigh to be Leena’s, but nope, it was Tam’s. Not sure what to do
here, my head jolted to look at Leena, but she was watching. For a
moment, she seemed unsure, then she reached over, put her hand
on Tam’s, and continued to move it up, closer… closer. Then both
were kissing my neck, the pressure in my pants as a result almost
hurting.
 How this would help us, I had no idea, but certainly wasn’t
complaining. As their intertwined fingers reached my bulge, I bit my
lip, trying not to make a sound, ignoring the fact that Cindy had
clearly just looked my way in the rearview mirror, and then it hit me.
The vision.
Demons. Not just a man with demon eyes, but actual demons
with long horns, shadows that moved on their own, skeletons with
cloaks that flowed as if in the wind. Flames, thrust aside, water
rising, blasts of magic exploding and wisps of light moving through
vast armies.
Eyes staring at me. Stark green, glowing bright.
And then, just as suddenly, it all pulled away as if vacuumed up,
flashing to darkness, and I was back in the car.
Holy shit, were we fucked. Good thing we had a plan, and
somehow… that plan involved two beautiful women caressing and
kissing me. We were fucked, and yet, I was looking forward to the
whole experience.
 BRACKET TIME!

Welcome to my short story bracket! Are you ready for this?

Here's the idea: You read these four short stories, then review and
tell everyone else. Spread the word. Let me know what you thought.
Then we see how they do, and then we'll see which ones you all
liked the most. It’ll mostly be based on the poll results and sales, so
be sure to leave your feedback.

From there, two of the short stories will get a follow-up story
(novella, probably). And then the same thing will happen, with only
one going on to get the full novel.

What happens to the ones that don't go on to the next level in the
bracket, you ask? Why, dear friends... they die. Wicked grin here.
Yes, we will see them killed off in the other character's stories in a
WWGRRMD style. That's "What would George R.R. Martin do?" in
case you weren't sure, the author of Game of Thrones who's always
accused of loving to kill off his main characters.

This is the idea, anyway. Let's see if it works!

Thanks for playing - Click HERE to submit your Vote.

 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jamie Hawke

After working on Marvel properties and traveling the world, Jamie

Hawke decided to settle down and write fun, quirky, and sexy pulp
science fiction and superhero books. Are they all harem? Oh yeah.
Oh yeahhhh.

It all started when Jamie was eleven, creating nude superhero

comics with his best friend. What perverts! But hey, they were fun
and provided good fodder for jokes up into their adult years. Now
the stories have evolved, but they capture that same level of fun.
Hopefully you will enjoy them as much as the author loved writing
them!
 READ NEXT

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 Have you read the first book, Rune Waker?

The new simulation promised closure in the form of

spending some last moments with deceased loved ones.

But the company went too far.

What started as a simple sim soon showed signs of crossing over, of

opening a Rift to the afterlife. But that's not all. Parts of that world
are coming our way, and what used to be worlds for the dead are
changing... Evolving?

This is my story—a journey into the world beyond to find my lost

fiancée, in the process changing myself and my understanding of
this new reality. An adventure that involves leveling up, forming
bonds with demons and spirits, and even going up against a very
odd dungeon master.
 And if you like my writing, don’t miss the bestseller SUPERS: EX
HEROES.

Super powers. Super harem. Super awesome.

Contains Adult Content. Seriously.

Who in their right mind tells both his lawyer and the judge presiding
over his murder trial, “Fuck you!” while still in the courtroom? No
one, right? Yeah, you’d be wrong about that. I did.

You’d say the same thing if you were just found guilty of a murder
you didn’t commit, though. Call me crazy for going off like that in
 court, but trust me, you don’t know crazy until you see what
happened next.

I never believed in superheroes. I certainly didn’t believe that I’d

become one, or that strategically forming a harem of hot chicas and
getting down with them to unlock my superpowers would be the key
to my survival.

Did I say my survival? I meant the universe’s. No, really...that’s

exactly what happened when I was taken to a galaxy of supers,
thrown into a prison ship full of villains, and told it was up to me to
stop them all.

Read on, friend, because it gets a whole hell of a lot crazier from
here.

***

Want something a bit more insane? Planet Kill is like Battle Royale on
a planet with Gamelit elements… and it’s crazy. You’ll see - You can
grab book one and two on Amazon!

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 Form your harem. Kill or be killed. Level up and loot.
Welcome to Planet Kill.

Pierce has his mission: survive by killing and getting nasty, doing
whatever it takes to find his lost wife and others who were abducted
and forced to participate in the barbarity that is Planet Kill. In a
galaxy where the only way to rise up in society and make it to the
paradise planets is through this insanity, he will be up against the
most desperate, the most ruthless, and the sexiest fighters alive.

Because it's not just a planet--it's the highest rated show around.
Contestants level up for kills, get paid for accepting violent and
sexual bids, and factions have been made in the form of harems.

His plan starts to come together when he meets Letha, one of the
most experienced warlords on the planet. She's as lethal as they
come and a thousand times as sexy. He's able to learn under her, to
start to form his own harem.

Only, being her ally means fighting her wars.

 It's kill or be killed, level up fast and put on the show the viewers
want all while proving to Letha and her generals that he has what it
takes to be one of them. The alternative is death, leaving his wife to
her fate of being hunted by monsters.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 — Toistan sinulle, että jos en ole tappanut sinua, niin vain sen
tähden, että tarvitsen sinua huomenna, muista se, älä unohda!

— Mitäs, tappakaa. Tappakaa nyt, — lausui Smerdjakov yhtäkkiä

omituisesti ja katsoi kummallisesti Ivaniin. — Ette uskalla sitäkään,
— lisäsi hän katkerasti naurahtaen, — ette uskalla mitään, ennen
niin rohkea mies!

— Huomiseen! — huudahti Ivan ja liikahti lähteäkseen.

— Odottakaa… näyttäkää minulle ne vielä kerran.

Ivan otti setelit taskustaan ja näytti hänelle. Smerdjakov katseli

niitä noin kymmenen sekuntia.

— No, menkää, — sanoi hän viitaten kädellään. — Ivan

Fjodorovitš! — huudahti hän äkkiä taas hänen jälkeensä.

— Mitä tahdot? — käännähti Ivan jo mennessään.

— Hyvästi!

— Huomiseen! — huudahti taas Ivan ja meni ulos tuvasta.

Lumimyrsky jatkui yhä. Ensimmäiset askelet hän kulki reippaasti,
mutta alkoi sitten yhtäkkiä ikäänkuin huojua. »Tämä on jotakin
fyysillistä», ajatteli hän ja naurahti. Oli kuin jokin riemu olisi nyt
valahtanut hänen sieluunsa. Hän tunsi itsessään loppumatonta
lujuutta: lopussa oli hänen epäröintinsä, joka niin kamalasti oli häntä
kiusannut koko viimeisen ajan. Päätös oli tehty »eikä enää muutu»,
ajatteli hän onnellisena. Tällä hetkellä hän yhtäkkiä kompastui
johonkin ja oli vähällä kaatua. Pysähdyttyään hän huomasi
jalkojensa juuressa kumoon lyömänsä pienen miehen, joka yhä
edelleen makasi siinä samassa paikassa tunnottomana ja
liikkumattomana. Lumipyry oli jo melkein kokonaan peittänyt lumella
hänen kasvonsa. Ivan tarttui äkkiä häneen ja vetäisi hänet lähelle
itseään. Hän näki oikeanpuolisessa talossa valoa, meni ja kolkutti
sen ikkunaluukkuun ja pyysi kolkutukseen vastannutta pikkuporvaria,
joka talon omisti, auttamaan häntä kuljettamaan miehen
poliisiasemalle sekä lupasi samalla maksaa siitä kolme ruplaa.
Pikkuporvari pukeutui ja tuli ulos. En rupea yksityiskohtaisesti
kuvailemaan, kuinka Ivan Fjodorovitšin silloin onnistui toteuttaa
tuumansa ja saada mies sijoitetuksi poliisilaitokselle sekä toimittaa
niin, että miehelle luvattiin heti toimittaa lääkärinhoitoa, ja kuinka hän
tässäkin auliisti antoi rahaa »menoihin». Sanon vain, että tämä juttu
vei häneltä aikaa melkein kokonaisen tunnin. Mutta Ivan Fjodorovitš
oli hyvin tyytyväinen. Hänen ajatuksensa lentelivät sinne tänne ja
tekivät työtä: »Jos en olisi tehnyt niin lujaa päätöstä huomiseen
nähden», ajatteli hän nauttien ajatuksestaan, »niin en olisi
pysähtynyt kokonaiseksi tunniksi pitämään huolta miehestä, vaan
olisin kulkenut hänen ohitseen ja vähät välittänyt siitä, että hän
paleltuu… Kuinka minä kykenenkään ottamaan vaaria itsestäni!»
ajatteli hän samalla hetkellä vielä enemmän nauttien: »Ja ne kun
siellä päättelivät, että minä olen tulemassa hulluksi!» Tultuaan
kotinsa kohdalle hän yhtäkkiä pysähtyi ajattelemaan odottamatta
herännyttä kysymystä: »Eikö ole aivan heti, nyt juuri, mentävä
prokuraattorin luo ja ilmoitettava hänelle kaikki?» Hän ratkaisi
kysymyksen kääntymällä taas taloonsa päin: »Huomenna kaikki
samalla kertaa!» kuiskasi hän itsekseen, ja — omituista — melkein
koko hänen riemunsa, koko hänen tyytyväisyytensä itseensä hävisi
silmänräpäyksessä. Ja kun hän astui sisälle huoneeseensa, niin
jokin jäätävä tunne hipaisi yhtäkkiä hänen sydäntään niinkuin muisto
tai oikeammin sanoen muistutus jostakin kiusallisesta ja
inhoittavasta, joka oli juuri tässä huoneessa nyt, parastaikaa, ja oli
ollut ennenkin. Hän vaipui väsyneenä sohvalleen. Eukko toi hänelle
teekeittimen, hän keitti teetä, mutta ei kajonnut siihen sitten; eukon
hän lähetti pois huomiseen asti. Hän istui sohvalla ja tunsi päätään
pyörryttävän. Hän tunsi olevansa sairas ja voimaton. Hän alkoi
vaipua uneen, mutta levottomana hän taas nousi vuoteesta ja alkoi
kävellä edestakaisin huoneessaan karkoittaakseen unen. Joinakin
hetkinä hänestä näytti, että hän houraili. Mutta sairaus ei kiinnittänyt
kaikkein enimmän hänen huomiotaan: istuuduttuaan taas hän alkoi
silloin tällöin katsella ympärilleen aivan kuin nähdäkseen jotakin.
Näin tapahtui useita kertoja. Viimein hänen katseensa suuntautui
kiinteästi yhteen pisteeseen. Ivan naurahti, mutta vihan punastus
nousi hänen kasvoilleen. Hän istui kauan paikallaan painaen
voimakkaasti päätään molempia käsiään vastaan ja kuitenkin
vilkuillen entiseen pisteeseen, vastapäisen seinän luona olevaan
sohvaan. Ilmeisesti häntä siellä jokin ärsytti, jokin esine teki
rauhattomaksi, kiusasi.

9.

Piru. Ivan Fjodorovitšin painajainen.

Minä en ole lääkäri, mutta kuitenkin tunnen, että on tullut hetki,

jolloin minun on aivan välttämätöntä selittää lukijalle edes jonkin
verran Ivan Fjodorovitšin sairauden laatua. Sanon, hypäten ajassa
hiukan eteenpäin, ainoastaan yhden seikan: hän on nyt, tänä iltana,
juuri sairastumassa juoppohulluuteen, joka nyt vihdoin oli kokonaan
saanut valtaansa hänen jo ammoin heikontuneen, mutta tautia
itsepintaisesti vastustaneen elimistönsä. Vaikka minulla ei ollenkaan
ole lääketieteellisiä tietoja, rohkenen lausua sen otaksuman, että
hänen kenties tosiaankin oli hirveän voimakkaalla
tahdonponnistuksella onnistunut toistaiseksi ehkäistä taudin
ilmeneminen toivoen tietysti kokonaan voittavansa sen. Hän tiesi,
ettei ollut terve, mutta häntä inhoitti olla sairaana tänä aikana, nyt
lähestyvinä hänen elämänsä kohtalokkaina hetkinä, jolloin piti olla
esillä, sanoa sanansa rohkeasti ja päättävästi ja itse »puolustaa
itseään itsensä edessä». Hän oli muuten kerran käynyt äsken
Moskovasta saapuneen lääkärin puheilla, jonka Katerina Ivanovna,
kuten aikaisemmin olen maininnut, oli erään kuvittelunsa johdosta
tilannut. Kuunneltuaan ja tarkasteltuaan häntä tohtori oli tullut siihen
päätökseen, että hänellä on jonkinlaista vikaa aivoissakin, eikä ollut
yhtään ihmetellyt erästä tunnustusta, jonka Ivan inhoten oli hänelle
tehnyt. »Hallusinaatiot ovat teidän nykyisessä tilassanne hyvin
mahdollisia», päätti tohtori, »vaikka ne pitää ottaa tarkistettaviksi…
yleensä on välttämätöntä ryhtyä vakavasti parantamiseen,
hetkeäkään hukkaamatta, muuten käy huonosti». Mutta Ivan
Fjodorovitš ei hänen luotansa tultuaan ollut ottanut järkevää neuvoa
varteen eikä käynyt makuulle terveyttään hoitamaan: »Olenhan minä
pystyssä, voimia on vielä, jos kaadun — niin sitten on eri asia,
lääkitköön sitten kuka tahtoo», päätti hän viitaten kädellään. Hän siis
istui nyt melkein itsekin tietäen hourailevansa ja, kuten jo sanoin,
katseli itsepintaisesti jotakin vastapäisen seinän luona olevalla
sohvalla näkyvää esinettä. Siinä olikin yhtäkkiä istumassa joku,
Jumala tiesi millä tavoin sisään tullut, sillä hän ei silloin vielä ollut
siinä, kun Ivan Fjodorovitš Smerdjakovin luota palatessaan oli tullut
huoneeseensa. Se oli joku herrasmies tai paremmin sanoen erästä
määrättyä lajia oleva venäläinen gentlemanni, ei enää nuori, »qui
frisait la cinquantaine», kuten ranskalaiset sanovat, jonkin verran
harmaata tummissa, jokseenkin pitkissä ja vielä tuuheissa hiuksissa
ja pujoparrassa. Hänen yllään oli ruskea nuttu, ilmeisesti hyvän
räätälin valmistama, mutta jo kulunut, arviolta jo yli pari vuotta sitten
valmistettu eikä enää ollenkaan muodinmukainen, niin että kukaan
varakas maailmanmies ei ollut sellaista pitänyt enää kahteen
vuoteen. Liinavaatteet ja pitkä, kaulurin tapainen kaulaliina, kaikki oli
samanlaista kuin hyvinpuetuilla gentlemanneilla, mutta liinavaatteet,
jos tarkasti niitä lähemmin, olivat likaisenpuoleiset, ja leveä kauluri oli
nukkavieru. Vieraan ruudulliset housut sopivat erinomaisesti, mutta
olivat liian vaaleat ja oikeastaan liian kapeat, jommoisia ei enää
käytetty, ja samaa maata oli myös pehmeä, valkea untuvahattu,
jonka vieras oli tuonut mukanaan ja joka ei ensinkään ollut sovelias
tänä vuodenaikana. Sanalla sanoen, hän oli niinkuin olla piti, mutta
varsin heikot rahavarat tekivät hänelle haittaa. Näytti siltä, että tämä
gentlemanni oli noita entisiä tyhjäntoimittaja-tilanomistajia, joitten
kukoistuskausi oli ollut maaorjuuden vielä vallitessa; ilmeisesti hän
oli nähnyt maailmaa ja hyviä seurapiirejä, hänellä oli aikoinaan ollut
tuttavuussuhteita, ja hän oli ne kenties säilyttänyt näihin aikoihin
saakka, mutta vähitellen, köyhdyttyään nuoruudessa vietetyn iloisen
elämän jälkeen ja äskeisen maaorjuuden poistamisen johdosta, hän
oli muuttunut jonkinmoiseksi hienommanlaatuiseksi elätiksi, joka
kuljeskeli vanhojen hyvien ystävien luona, ja nämä ottavat hänet
vastaan hänen sopuisan ja tasaisen luonteensa takia ottaen
huomioon senkin, että hän joka tapauksessa sentään on kelpo mies,
jonka voi kutsua pöytäänsä mihin seuraan tahansa, vaikkakin tietysti
vaatimattomalle paikalle. Tällaiset elätit, sopuisaluonteiset
gentlemannit, jotka osaavat kertoa juttuja, järjestää korttipelin ja jotka
eivät ollenkaan pidä mistään tehtävistä, jos semmoisia tahdotaan
heille antaa, — ovat tavallisesti yksinäisiä miehiä, joko naimattomia
tahi leskimiehiä, joilla mahdollisesti on lapsiakin, mutta heidän
lapsensa ovat kasvatettavina aina jossakin kaukana, joittenkin tätien
luona, joita gentlemanni ei juuri milloinkaan mainitse kunnollisessa
seurassa, koska hän ikäänkuin on hiukan häpeissään sellaisesta
sukulaisuudesta. Lapsistaan hän vieraantuu vähitellen kokonaan,
saa heiltä silloin tällöin nimipäivikseen ja jouluksi onnittelukirjeitä ja
vastaakin niihin toisinaan. Odottamattoman vieraan kasvot eivät
oikeastaan ilmaisseet hyväsydämisyyttä, mutta nekin olivat sopuisan
näköiset ja valmiit asianhaarojen mukaan ilmaisemaan kaikenlaista
ystävällisyyttä. Kelloa hänellä ei ollut, mutta sen sijaan
kilpikonnanluinen lornjetti mustassa nauhassa. Oikean käden
keskisormessa loisti iso kultainen kantasormus, jossa oli
huokeahintainen opaali. Ivan Fjodorovitš oli äreästi vaiti eikä tahtonut
aloittaa keskustelua. Vieras odotti ja istui juuri niinkuin elätti, joka
juuri on tullut alas hänelle yläkerrokseen varatusta huoneesta
olemaan isännälle seurana teetä juotaessa, mutta on vaiti, koska
isännällä ei ole aikaa, vaan tämä ajattelee kulmat rypyssä jotakin;
mutta hän on valmis ystävällisesti keskustelemaan heti, kun isäntä
aloittaa keskustelun. Äkkiä alkoivat hänen kasvonsa ilmaista
huolestumista.

— Kuule, — alkoi hän puhua Ivan Fjodorovitšille, — suo anteeksi,

sanon vain muistuttaakseni sinua: sinähän menit Smerdjakovin luo
saadaksesi tietää Katerina Ivanovnasta, mutta läksit sieltä saamatta
tietää mitään hänestä, unohdit varmaankin.

— Ah, niin! — pääsi yhtäkkiä Ivanin suusta, ja hänen kasvonsa

tulivat huolestuneen näköisiksi. — Niin, minä unohdin… Muuten nyt
on kaikki samantekevää, kaikki jää huomiseen, — mutisi hän
itsekseen. — Entä sinä, — kääntyi hän ärtyisästi vieraan puoleen, —
tämä täytyi minun itseni äsken muistaa, sillä juuri tämän takia olin
alakuloinen! Kun sinä tähän tuppauduit, niin uskonko minä siis sinun
kuiskanneen sen enkä itse muistaneeni?
 — Älä usko, — naurahti gentlemanni ystävällisesti. — Mitä uskoa
on väkisin uskominen? Sitäpaitsi eivät uskon asioissa mitkään
todistukset auta, varsinkaan aineelliset. Tuomas ei uskonut sen
vuoksi, että näki ylösnousseen Kristuksen, vaan sen vuoksi, että hän
jo sitä ennen tahtoi uskoa. Otetaanpa esimerkiksi spiritistit… minä
pidän heistä kovin paljon… ajattelehan, he otaksuvat olevansa
hyödyksi uskolle, koska heille pirut toisesta maailmasta näyttävät
sarviaan. Se on, muka, jo niin sanoaksemme aineellinen todistus
siitä, että toinen maailma on olemassa. Toinen maailma ja aineelliset
todistukset, huhhei! Ja jos loppujen lopuksi onkin todistettu pirun
olemassaolo, niin on vielä tietymätöntä, onko Jumalankin
olemassaolo todistettu. Minä tahdon lukeutua idealistien seuraan ja
rupean siinä harjoittamaan oppositsionia: »realisti siis, mutta ei
materialisti, hehee!»

— Kuule, — sanoi Ivan Fjodorovitš nousten yhtäkkiä pöydän

äärestä. — Minä olen nyt kuin houreissa… tietysti minä hourailen…
lörpötä mitä tahdot, minusta se on samantekevää! Sinä et saa minua
raivostumaan niinkuin viime kerralla. Minua vain hävettää jokin…
Tahdon kävellä huoneessa… Toisinaan minä en näe sinua enkä
kuule ääntäsikään, niinkuin viime kerralla, mutta arvaan aina mitä
sinä vätystelet, sillä minä itsehän siinä puhun etkä sinä! En vain
tiedä, nukuinko viime kerralla vain näinkö sinut valveilla ollessani!
Nyt minä kostutan pyyheliinan kylmään veteen ja panen päähäni,
ehkäpä sinäkin paranet.

Ivan Fjodorovitš meni nurkkaan, otti pyyheliinan, teki niinkuin oli

sanonut ja alkoi märkä liina pään ympärillä kävellä edestakaisin
huoneessa.
 — Minua miellyttää, että meistä on tullut suorastaan sinut, alkoi
ääni.

— Hölmö, — alkoi Ivan nauraa, — rupeaisinko minä muka

teitittelemään sinua. Minä olen nyt iloinen, ohimoita vain kivistää… ja
päälakea… Mutta ole hyvä äläkä filosofoi niinkuin viime kerralla. Jos
et voi mennä tiehesi, niin pakise jotakin hauskaa. Kerro juoruja,
sinähän olet elätti, juoruja siis. Kaikenlaisia painajaisia pitääkin olla!
Mutta minä en pelkää sinua. Minä voitan sinut. Eivät vie minua
hullujenhuoneeseen!

— C'est charmant — elätti. Niin, minä olen todella oikeassa

hahmossani. Mikä olenkaan minä maan päällä muu kuin elätti.
Mutta, asiasta puheen ollen, minähän kuuntelen sinua ja hiukan
ihmettelen: jumaliste, sinä ikäänkuin alat vähitellen pitää minua
todellakin jonakin, etkä vain omana kuvitelmanasi, niinkuin
itsepintaisesti tahdoit väittää viime kerralla…

— En hetkeäkään pidä sinua reaalisena totena, — huudahti Ivan

raivostuen. — Sinä olet valhe, sinä olet minun sairauteni, sinä olet
haamu. Minä vain en tiedä, miten tekisin lopun sinusta, ja näen, että
jonkin aikaa täytyy kärsiä. Sinä olet minun harhanäkyni. Sinä olet
minun ruumiillistumani, muuten vain yhden puolen minusta… minun
ajatusteni ja tunteitteni olennoituma, mutta kaikkein iljettävimpien ja
typerimpien. Tältä puolelta sinä voisit olla minusta
mielenkiintoinenkin, jos vain minulla olisi aikaa puuhata sinun
kanssasi…

Annahan, annahan, minä saan sinut kiinni: äsken sinä lyhdyn

luona kävit Aljošan kimppuun ja huusit hänelle: »Tämän olet sinä
saanut tietää häneltä! Mistä sinä tiedät, että hän käy luonani?»
Minuahan sinä muistelit. Siis yhden lyhyen silmänräpäyksen sinä
sentään uskoit, uskoit, että minä todella olen olemassa, — alkoi
gentlemanni lempeästi nauraa.

— Niin, se oli luonnon heikkous… mutta minä en voinut uskoa

sinua. Minä en tiedä, nukuinko vai kävelinkö viime kerralla. Kenties
minä silloin näin sinut unissani enkä ollenkaan valveilla…

—- Mutta miksi sinä äsken kohtelit häntä niin tylysti, Aljošaa

nimittäin? Hän on herttainen, minä olen hänen edessään syyllinen
luostarinvanhin Zosiman takia.

— Pidä suusi kiinni Aljošasta! Kuinka sinä uskallat, lakeija! — alkoi

Ivan taas nauraa.

— Sinä haukut ja samalla naurat, — hyvä merkki. Muuten sinä olet

tänään paljon ystävällisempi minua kohtaan kuin viime kerralla, ja
minä ymmärrän minkä tähden: tuo suuri päätös…

— Pidä suusi kiinni päätöksestä! — huusi Ivan rajusti.

— Ymmärrän, ymmärrän, c'est noble, c'est charmant, sinä menet

huomenna puolustamaan veljeäsi ja uhraudut… c'est
chevaleresque.

— Ole vaiti, minä annan sinulle potkut!

— Osittain minä olen siitä iloinen, sillä silloin olen saavuttanut

päämääräni: jos tulee potkut, niin siis uskot realismiini, sillä haamulle
ei anneta potkuja. Leikki sikseen: minustahan on samantekevää,
hauku, jos tahdot, mutta parempi sentään olisi olla edes hitusen
kohteliaampi vaikkapa minunkin kanssani. Milloin sanot hölmöksi,
milloin lakeijaksi, no, mitä sanoja nuo ovat!
 — Kun soimaan sinua — niin soimaan itseäni! — nauroi taas Ivan.
— Sinä olet minä, minä itse, vain naama on toinen. Sinä puhut juuri
sitä, mitä minä jo ajattelen… etkä kykene sanomaan minulle mitään
uutta!

— Jos minä olen yhtä sinun kanssasi ajatuksissa, niin se on

minulle vain kunniaksi, — lausui gentlemanni kohteliaasti ja
arvokkaasti.

— Sinä otat vain aina minun huonot ja ennen kaikkea typerät

ajatukseni.
Sinä olet tyhmä ja alhainen. Sinä olet hirveän tyhmä. Ei, minä en
jaksa
sietää sinua! Mitä minun on tehtävä, mitä minun on tehtävä! —
lausui
Ivan hampaitaan kiristellen.

— Ystäväni, minä tahdon kuitenkin olla gentlemanni ja että minut

siten otettaisiin vastaankin, — alkoi vieras eräänlaisen elätille
ominaisen ja jo edeltäkäsin myöntyväisen ja hyväntahtoisen
kunniantunnon puuskan vallassa. — Minä olen köyhä, mutta… en
sano, että olen hyvin kunniallinen, mutta… tavallisesti on
seurapiireissä pidetty selviönä, että minä olen langennut enkeli.
Jumal'auta, minä en osaa kuvitella, millä tavoin minä koskaan olen
voinut olla enkeli. Jos olen joskus ollut, niin siitä on niin kauan, ettei
ole synti, että on sen unohtanut. Nyt pidän vain tärkeänä, että olen
kunnon miehen maineessa ja elän miten sattuu koettaen olla
miellyttävä. Minä rakastan vilpittömästi ihmisiä, — oi, paljon on
minua paneteltu! Täällä, kun asetun aika ajoin teille asumaan, kuluu
elämäni niinkuin se todella olisi jotakin, ja se miellyttää minua
kaikkein enimmän. Minähän itsekin, kuten sinäkin, kärsin siitä, mikä
on haavetta, ja siksi minä rakastankin teidän maista realismianne.
Täällä teillä on kaikki selvästi hahmoteltua, täällä on kaava, täällä on
geometria, mutta meillä on aina vain jonkinmoisia epämääräisiä
yhtälöitä! Minä kuljen täällä ja haaveilen. Minä pidän
haaveilemisesta. Sitäpaitsi minä muutun maan päällä
taikauskoiseksi, — älä naura, pyydän: se juuri minua miellyttääkin,
että tulen taikauskoiseksi. Minä omaksun täällä kaikki teidän
tapanne: minusta on hauskaa käydä yleisessä saunassa, voitko
kuvitella, ja minusta on mieluisaa olla lauteilla hikoilemassa yhdessä
kauppiaitten ja pappien kanssa. Minun unelmani on — ruumiillistua,
mutta ihan ainaiseksi, johonkin paksuun, seitsemän puutaa
painavaan kauppiaan eukkoon ja uskoa kaikkea, mitä hän uskoo.
Minun ihanteenani on — mennä kirkkoon ja panna sinne kynttilä
vilpittömin mielin, jumal'auta, se on niin. Sillain ovat kärsimykseni
lopussa. Minua on ruvennut myös miellyttämään terveyden
parantaminen täällä luonanne: keväällä liikkui täällä rokkotauti, minä
menin lastenhoitolaan ja annoin rokottaa itseni, — jospa tietäisit,
miten tyytyväinen olin sinä päivänä: lahjoitin kymmenen ruplaa
slaavilaisten veljien hyväksi!… Mutta sinähän et kuuntele. Tiedätkö,
sinä et tänään ole ensinkään niinkuin tavallisesti, — jatkoi
gentlemanni oltuaan vähän aikaa vaiti. — Minä tiedän, että sinä kävit
eilen lääkärissä… no, miten on terveytesi? Mitä tohtori sanoi sinulle?

— Hölmö! — tokaisi Ivan.

— Sen sijaan sinä olet ylen viisas. Taasko sinä haukut? Enhän
minä oikeastaan kysynyt osanottavaisuudesta, vaan muuten vain.
Voithan olla vastaamatta. Nyt on taas reumatismia liikkeessä…

— Hölmö, — toisti Ivan.

 — Sinä puhut vain omaasi, mutta minulla oli viime vuonna
sellainen reumatismi, että muistan sen vieläkin.

— Pirulla reumatismi?

— Miksikä ei, jos minä toisinaan esiinnyn ruumiillisessa

muodossa. Kun ruummiillistun, niin alistun myös sen seurauksiin.
Satanas sum et nihil humanum a me alienum puto.

— Kuinka, kuinka? Satanas sum et nihil humanum… se ei ole

tyhmää pirun sanomaksi!

— Olen iloissani, että puheeni lopulta oli mieleen.

— Mutta sitähän sinä et ole ottanut minulta, — pysähtyi Ivan

yhtäkkiä aivan kuin hämmästyneenä, — se ei ole koskaan tullut
päähäni, se on omituista…

— C'est du nouveau, n'est-ce pas? Tällä kertaa minä menettelen

rehellisesti ja selitän asian sinulle. Kuule: unissa ja varsinkin
painajaisen aikana, joko vatsan epäkunnon tai muun semmoisen
johdosta, ihminen näkee toisinaan niin taiteellisia unia, niin
monimutkaisen ja reaalisen todellisuuden, sellaisia tapahtumia tai
kokonaisen tapahtumien maailman, jossa tapaukset kietoo yhteen
sellainen juoni ja jossa yksityiskohdat ovat niin yllättäviä, alkaen
korkeimmista elämän ilmiöistä aina viimeiseen paidannappiin, ettei,
vannon sen sinulle, Leo Tolstoi sepitä sellaista, ja kuitenkin näkevät
tämmöisiä unia toisinaan ei ollenkaan kirjailijat, vaan aivan tavalliset
arki-ihmiset, virkamiehet, kynäilijät, papit… Tässä on kokonainen
tutkimustehtävä: eräs ministeri tunnusti minulle itse, että hän saa
parhaat aatteensa nukkuessaan. No, niin on asia nytkin. Vaikka minä
olenkin sinun harhanäkysi, niin minä, kuten painajainenkin, puhun
omaperäisiä asioita, jommoisia ei tähän saakka ole tullut
päähäsikään, niin että minä en ollenkaan toistele sinun ajatuksiasi, ja
kuitenkin minä olen vain sinun painajaisesi enkä mitään muuta.

— Valehtelet. Sinun tarkoituksesi on nimenomaan saada

uskomaan, että sinä olet omia aikojasi olemassa etkä ole minun
painajaiseni, ja nyt sinä vakuutat itse olevasi uni.

— Ystäväni, tänään minä olen ottanut erikoisen menettelytavan ja

selitän sen sinulle myöhemmin. Odotahan, mihin minä pysähdyin?
Niin, minä vilustuin silloin, mutta en täällä teillä, vaan jo siellä…

— Missä siellä? Sano, miten kauan sinä viivyt luonani, etkö voi
lähteä? — huudahti Ivan miltei epätoivoissaan. Hän lakkasi
kävelemästä, istuutui sohvalle, nojasi taas kyynärpäänsä pöytään ja
puristi molemmin käsin päätään. Hän tempaisi päästään märän
pyyheliinan ja paiskasi sen vihoissaan pois: ilmeisesti siitä ei ollut
apua.

— Sinun hermosi ovat epäkunnossa, — huomautti gentlemanni

luontevan huolettomasti, mutta kuitenkin aivan ystävällisen
näköisenä. — Sinä olet vihainen minulle siitä, että minä olen voinut
vilustua, ja kuitenkin se tapahtui aivan luonnollisella tavalla. Minulla
oli silloin kiire erääseen diplomaattiseen illanviettoon erään ylhäisen
venäläisen rouvan luo, joka tähtäili ministereitä. No, hännystakki,
valkea kaulaliina, hansikkaat ja kuitenkin minä olin vielä Herra ties
missä, ja tullakseni luoksenne maan päälle minun täytyi vielä lentää
halki avaruuden… tietysti se kestää vain silmänräpäyksen, mutta
tarvitseehan auringon sädekin auringosta tullakseen kokonaista
kahdeksan minuuttia, mutta nyt, ajattelehan, olin hännystakissa ja
avoimessa liivissä. Henget eivät palellu, mutta kun kerran olin
ruumiillistunut, niin… sanalla sanoen olin kevytmielinen ja lähdin
liitämään, mutta noissa avaruuksissa, siellä yläilmoissa mantereen
yläpuolella, siellähän on sellainen pakkanen… taikka mitä pakkasta
se olisi, — ei sitä toki voi pakkaseksi nimittääkään, voitko kuvitella:
sataviisikymmentä astetta alle nollan! Tunnetaanhan maalaistyttöjen
huvittelutapa: kolmenkymmen asteen pakkasessa antavat
kokemattoman nuolaista kirvestä; kieli jäätyy silmänräpäyksessä
siihen kiinni ja tomppeli repäisee siitä nahan, niin että veri virtaa; ja
tämähän on vain kolmenkymmen asteen pakkasessa, mutta
sadanviidenkymmenen asteen kylmyydessä tarvitsee luullakseni
panna vain sormen kirveelle, niin se on mennyttä kalua, jos… vain
siellä on saatavissa kirves…

— Voiko siellä sitten olla saatavissa kirves? — keskeytti Ivan

Fjodorovitš yhtäkkiä hajamielisesti ja inhoten. Hän ponnisti kaikki
voimansa voidakseen olla uskomatta hourettaan ja estääkseen
itseään lopullisesti menettämästä järkeään.

— Kirves? — kysyi vuorostaan vieras ihmetellen.

— No niin, miten käy siellä kirveelle? — huudahti Ivan Fjodorovitš

yhtäkkiä rajun itsepintaisesti.

— Miten käy kirveelle avaruudessa? Quelle idée! Jos se sattuu

joutumaan jonnekin edemmäksi, niin se luullakseni alkaa lentää
maan ympäri, itsekään tietämättä miksi, ollen sen seuralaisena.
Tähtitieteilijät laskevat kirveen nousun ja laskun ajat, Gatzuk ottaa
sen kalenteriin, siinä kaikki.

— Sinä olet tyhmä, sinä olet hirveän tyhmä! — sanoi Ivan vastaan
hangoitellen. — Valehtele viisaammin, muuten en kuuntele. Sinä
tahdot voittaa minut realismilla, saada minut vakuutetuksi, että olet
olemassa, mutta minä en tahdo uskoa, että sinä olet olemassa! En
usko!

— Enhän minä valehtele, kaikki on totta; valitettavasti totuus ei

juuri milloinkaan ole älykästä. Huomaan, että sinä ehdottomasti
odotat minulta jotakin suurta ja ehkäpä ihanaakin. Se on hyvin
ikävää, sillä minä annan vain sitä, mitä voin…

— Älä filosofoi, aasi!

— Mitäpä filosofiaa siinä voi olla, kun koko oikea puoli on turtunut,
ähkin ja älisen. Olin etsimässä kaikelta lääketieteeltä apua: osaavat
oivallisesti tutkia, kertovat sinulle koko tautisi aivan kuin sormilla
laskien, no, mutta parantaa eivät osaa. Siinä sattui olemaan eräs
innostunut ylioppilas: »Jos te», sanoo, »kuolettekin, niin tiedättepä
kuitenkin täydelleen, mihin tautiin kuolitte!» Taaskin tuo heidän
tapansa lähettää spesialistien luo: me, mukamas, vain toteamme,
mutta menkää te sen ja sen spesialistin luo, hän parantaa teidät.
Kokonaan, kokonaan, sanon sen sinulle, on kadonnut entinen
tohtori, joka paransi kaikista taudeista, nykyjään kuulutetaan
sanomalehdissä vain spesialisteista. Jos nenäsi sattuu tulemaan
kipeäksi, niin sinut lähetetään Pariisiin: siellä muka eurooppalainen
spesialisti parantaa neniä. Tulet Pariisiin, hän tarkastaa nenän: minä
voin, sanoo, parantaa ainoastaan oikean sieraimenne, sillä
vasempia sieraimia minä en hoida, se ei ole minun erikoisalaani,
mutta menkää minun luotani päästyänne Wieniin, siellä parantaa
erikoisspesialisti vasemman sieraimenne. Mitä siis teet? Minä
turvauduin kansanomaisiin parannustapoihin, eräs saksalainen
tohtori neuvoi hieromaan ruumista saunan lauteilla hunajalla ja
suolalla. Menin tekemään niin ainoastaan sen vuoksi, että saisin
käydä ylimääräisen kerran saunassa: tahrin koko ruumiini eikä siitä
ollut mitään hyötyä. Epätoivoissani kirjoitin kreivi Matteille Milanoon;
hän lähetti kirjan ja tippoja, jääköön hän Jumalan huomaan. Ja
ajattelehan: Hoffin mallas-ekstrakti auttoi! Ostin sitä sattumalta, join
puolitoista pulloa ja olisin voinut vaikka tanssia, kaikki oli kuin pois
pyyhkäisty. Päätin ehdottomasti painattaa hänelle sanomalehtiin
kiitokset, kiitollisuuden tunne vaati sitä, mutta silloin, ajattelehan,
alkoi uusi juttu: ei yksikään toimitus ottanut sitä vastaan! »Se on
kovin taantumuksellista», sanovat, »ei kukaan sitä usko, le diable
n'existe point.» »Painattakaa», neuvovat, »nimettömästi».
Naureskelen konttorihenkilökunnan kanssa: »Jumalaanhan
uskominen», sanon, »on meidän aikanamme taantumuksellista,
mutta minähän olen piru, minuun voi uskoa». — »Ymmärrämme»,
sanovat, »kukapa ei uskoisi piruun, mutta sittenkään ei käy päinsä,
suunta voi siitä kärsiä. Onko tässä mikään pila kysymyksessä?» No,
pilana, ajattelen, tämä ei olisi älykästä. Eivät siis painaneet lehteen.
Ja, uskotko, tämä jäi ihan sydämelleni. Minun parhaat tunteeni,
kuten esimerkiksi kiitollisuus, ovat minulta muodollisesti kielletyt
yksinomaan yhteiskunnallisen asemani takia.

— Taasko lähdit filosofian alalle? — sanoi Ivan vihaisesti

hampaitaan kiristellen.

— Jumala minua varjelkoon, mutta eihän voi olla joskus

valittamatta. Minä olen paneteltu mies. Tässä sinä sanot vähän väliä,
että minä olen tyhmä. Näkyy, että olet nuori mies. Ystäväni, ei ole
ainoastaan älystä kysymys! Minulla on luonnostaan hyvä ja iloinen
sydän, »laittelenpa kaikenlaisia pieniä laulunäytelmiäkin». Sinä näyt
ehdottomasti pitävän minua harmaantuneena Hlestakovina, ja
kuitenkin on minun kohtaloni paljon vakavampi. Jokin aikojen alussa
annettu päätös, josta en koskaan ole päässyt selville, on osakseni
määrännyt »kielteisyyden», mutta samalla minä kuitenkin olen
vilpittömästi hyväsydäminen ja aivan kykenemätön suhtautumaan
mihinkään kielteisesti. »Ei, mene ja suhtaudu kielteisesti, ilman
kielteisyyttä ei ole kritiikkiä», mutta mikä aikakauslehti se sellainen
olisi, jossa ei olisi »kritiikkiosastoa?» Ilman kritiikkiä tulee vain
»hoosianna». Mutta elämää varten ei riitä tämä »hoosianna», tämän
»hoosiannan» pitää käydä epäilysten ahjon läpi, ja niin edespäin
tähän tapaan. Minä muuten en puutu tähän kaikkeen, minä en ole
luonut enkä minä ole vastuussa. No, valittiin syntipukki, pantiin
kirjoittamaan kritiikkiosastoon, ja niin muodostui elämä. Me
ymmärrämme tämän komedian: minä esimerkiksi suorastaan ja
yksinkertaisesti vaadin tuhoamistani. Ei, elä, sanotaan, sillä ilman
sinua ei asioista tule mitään. Jos maan päällä kaikki olisi järkevää,
niin ei mitään tapahtuisikaan. Ilman sinua ei tule mitään tapahtumia,
mutta tapahtumia pitää olla. Niinpä nyt palvelen malttaen mieleni,
jotta olisi tapahtumia, ja teen järjetöntä käskyn mukaan. Ihmiset
pitävät kaikkea tätä komediaa vakavana asiana, vaikka he
kiistämättömästi ovat älykkäitä. Se onkin heidän tragediansa. No, ja
tietysti he kärsivät, mutta… kuitenkin he elävät, elävät reaalista, ei
fantastista elämää. Mitä iloa siinä olisikaan ilman kärsimystä; kaikki
muuttuisi vain loppumattomaksi rukoushetkeksi: se on pyhää, mutta
ikävänpuoleista. No, entä minä? Minä kärsin, mutta en kuitenkaan
elä. Minä olen X epämääräisessä yhtälössä. Minä olen jokin aave,
jolta ovat hävinneet kaikki loput ja alut, ja lopulta olen itsekin
unohtanut, miksi itseäni nimittäisin. Sinä naurat… ei, sinä et naura,
sinä suutut taas. Sinä olet ikuisesti suutuksissasi, sinä tahdot aina
vain järkeä, mutta minä toistan sinulle vieläkin, että minä antaisin
kaiken tuon tähtientakaisen elämän, kaikki virka-arvot ja kaiken
kunnian vain siitä, että voisin ottaa olomuodokseni seitsemän puutaa
painavan kauppiaaneukon sielun ja asetella kynttilöitä Jumalalle.
 — Etkö sinäkään enää usko Jumalaan? — naurahti Ivan
vihaisesti.

— Miten oikeastaan sanoisinkaan sen sinulle, jos sinä vain

vakavasti…

— Onko Jumala olemassa vai eikö? — huudahti Ivan taas

raivokkaan itsepintaisesti.

— Ahaa, sinä puhut siis vakavasti? Ystäväni, en totisesti tiedä,

sanoitpa suuren sanan.

— Et tiedä, mutta näet Jumalan? Ei, sinä et ole omia aikojasi, sinä
olet — minä, sinä olet minä etkä mitään muuta! Sinä olet roskaa,
sinä olet minun kuvitelmani!

— No niin, jos tahdot, minulla on sama filosofia kuin sinulla, se on

oikein sanottu. Je pense, donc je suis, sen minä tiedän varmasti,
mutta kaikki muu, mikä on ympärilläni, kaikki nuo maailmat, Jumala
ja itse saatanakin, — kaikki tuo on minulle todistamatonta, onko se
todellisena olemassa vai onko se vain minun emanaationi, minun
minäni johdonmukaista kehitystä, tuon minuuteni, joka on olemassa
aikojen alusta ja yksin… sanalla sanoen, minä katkaisen nopeasti
puheeni, sillä sinä hyppäät luultavasti heti paikaltasi ja rupeat
tappelemaan.

— Kertoisit mieluummin jonkin anekdootin! — lausui Ivan

kärsivästi.

— Anekdootti on, ja se koskee juuri meidän

keskusteluaihettamme, tai oikeastaan se ei ole anekdootti, vaan
muuten vain, legenda. Sinä soimaat minua uskon puutteesta: »Näet
etkä usko.» Mutta ystäväni, enhän minä ole ainoa sellainen, kaikilla
meillä on nyt asiat sekaisin, ja se kaikki johtuu teidän tieteistänne.
Niin kauan kuin vielä oli atomeja, viisi aistia, neljä alkuainetta, niin
kaikki vielä sopi jollakin lailla yhteen. Atomeja oli jo vanhassa
maailmassa. Mutta kun me saimme tietää, että te siellä
keskuudessanne olitte keksineet »kemiallisen molekyylin» ja
»protoplasman» ja piru tiennee mitä kaikkea, — niin me panimme
hännän koipien väliin. Alkoi suoranainen järjettömyys; pääasia oli
taikausko, juorut; juorujahan on meilläkin yhtä paljon kuin teillä,
vieläpä hieman enemmänkin, ja lopulta ilmiantojakin, onhan
meilläkin eräs sellainen osasto, jossa otetaan vastaan
määrätynlaisia »tietoja». Niin on sitten tuo hurja legenda jo meidän
keskiajaltamme, — ei teidän, vaan meidän keskiajalta, — eikä
kukaan sitä usko, ei edes meilläkään, paitsi seitsemän puutaa
painavat kauppiaaneukot, nimittäin taaskaan ei teidän, vaan meidän
kauppiaaneukot. Kaikkea, mitä teillä on, on myöskin meillä, minä
ilmaisen sinulle ystävyyden vuoksi tämän yhden salaisuutemme,
vaikka ei olekaan lupa. Tuo legenda koskee paratiisia. Täällä maan
päällä, muka, oli joukossanne eräs sellainen ajattelija ja filosofi,
»kaiken hän kielsi, lait, omantunnon, uskon» ja ennen kaikkea —
tulevan elämän. Hän kuoli, luuli joutuvansa suoraan pimeyteen ja
kuolemaan, mutta hänen edessään olikin — tuleva elämä. Hän
hämmästyi ja paheksui: »Tämä», sanoo, »on ristiriidassa
vakaumukseni kanssa». Tämän vuoksi hänet tuomittiinkin… se on,
näetkö, anna minulle anteeksi, minähän itse kerron mitä olen kuullut,
tämä on vain legenda… tuomittiin, näes, hänet kulkemaan
pimeydessä kvadriljoona kilometriä (meillähän lasketaan nyt
kilometreissä), ja kun hän on kulkenut tämän kvadriljoonan, niin
hänelle avataan paratiisin ovet ja annetaan kaikki anteeksi…
 — Mutta mitä muita piinoja teillä on toisessa maailmassa paitsi
kvadriljoona? — keskeytti Ivan omituisen odotuksen vallassa.

— Mitä piinoja? Ah, älä kysykään: ennen oli minkä mitäkin, mutta
nyt ovat käytännössä enimmäkseen moraaliset, »omantunnon
tuskat» ja kaikkea tuommoista roskaa. Tämäkin on peräisin teistä,
»tapojenne lieventämisestä». No, ja kenelle tämä on ollut voitoksi?
Siitä ovat voittaneet vain tunnottomat, sillä mitä tunnonvaivoja
semmoisella on, jolla ei ensinkään ole omaatuntoakaan. Sen sijaan
ovat joutuneet kärsimään kunnon ihmiset, joilla on vielä jäljellä
omatunto ja kunnia… Sitä ovat reformit muokkaamattomalla
maaperällä, kun ne lisäksi vielä on kopioitu muukalaisista laitoksista,
— vahinkoa niistä vain on! Parempi olisi entisajan tuli. No, tuo
kvadriljoonaan tuomittu mies seisoi, katseli ja kävi tielle poikkiteloin:
»En tahdo mennä, periaatteen takia en lähde kulkemaan!» Ota
sivistyneen venäläisen ateistin sielu ja sekoita se kolme päivää ja
kolme yötä valaskalan vatsassa asustaneen profeetta Joonaan
sieluun, — siinä on sinulla tuon tielle pitkälleen käyneen ajattelijan
luonne.

— Minkä päälle hän siihen kävi pitkälleen?

—- No, kaipa siinä oli jotakin, minkä päälle kävi. Ethän tee pilaa?

— Reippaasti tehty! — huudahti Ivan yhä tuon omituisen

vilkkauden vallassa. Nyt hän kuunteli odottamattoman uteliaisuuden
valtaamana. — No, siinäkö hän makaa vielä nytkin?

— Siinäpä se, ettei. Hän makasi melkein tuhat vuotta, mutta nousi
sitten ja lähti kulkemaan.