The law of karma: the parable of those who live not your life





© Sarolta Wapme want to believe that the Creator of all his creatures prefer those who became free. Amin Malouf "the Journey of Baltzar"" — As it is – is not it? I asked, suddenly shrunken voice, Is that you? Yes, you have the error here, in the files, look better!!!
Finally the older angel smiled indulgently and adjusted his glasses in a circular frame, — we Got everything recorded, everything is taken into account, again, all under the strict eye of you Know Who. We have over malfeasance you know what? the angel's face hardened, Lucifer heard? This. Had no time to blink – off. "Oshi-and-IBCA". I will say too...

— Wait, — I tried to pull myself together, — please Look here.

The angel looked kindly at me over his glasses.
And? he asked after a moment of silence.
— I may not. But someone is there? – I carefully wiggled and substance, which has now replaced me usual earthly body. Substance became agitated and went to the rainbow spots.

Someone, of course. But not NN, which you were pleased to introduce myself., Angel sighed and rubbed his forehead, ' I such as you have seen – do not count. And for some reason most of them ladies. Well, okay. Let's check the lady. The points. From the very beginning. So?
"All right," said I, resolutely hanging over his shoulder and isotopes fight to the last.
— Chickpeas-with, here it is, the biography of Madame N, angel pulled out from under the table a hefty Talmud and blew the dust off it, — Ab ovo, dear, that is, from the egg, he polonevich finger and rustled the tissue thin pages — Well, it's the little things ... diapers... baby... the whims of silly... personality is not formed yet... nature is not manifest, all drafts of... well, childhood, and even lower, take a conscious life... and, here! – he triumphantly held up a finger — you had a novel in the end of the tenth class!

— Oh, what a strange thing, — I could not resist, — That in sixteen years – and suddenly the novel!

— And you do not sneer, Fraulein, the angel made a stern face, the novel developed rapidly and quite happily until you butted your girlfriend. And boy you'll be really Frank, right from under the noses taken away. That is not you, suddenly woke up the angel and blushed, and miss NN...

— Well, what? – I asked suspiciously, — With all happens. Is that some kind of mortal sin, which the Bible forgot to write it down? They say, don't let no boy of his, nor ass, nor ox...

The word "Bible" the angel frowned.
— What does sin, for God's sake! Already got our sin... Follow me. In this situation, the behavior of our N?

— How a fool acts, darkly I said, vaguely Recalling this unfortunate novel, "pas de Trois", — pretend that nothing happened, hanging around with them everywhere, watching them, if you quarrel...

— Vooot — didactically handed the angel, — now carefully – look at me! — what would you have done if you'd lived?

— Would kill — word came out of me before I have time to figure out what I'm saying.

— Exactly! – Angel even jumped on a chair, exactly! Kill not killed, but sent to three gay characters – that's for sure. Now think – how many of these "novels" was in the life of our miss?

— Five pieces — I remembered, and I suddenly felt lousy.

And all with the same result, mind you. Go ahead. Mademoiselle tried to go to University and failed. How many do not get?

And a half points — I wanted to cry.

— And why-it carries the documents to the Institute. Her score pass. It comes in this Institute. And you? What in this moment would you?

— To uni to the last, until, already barely audible I whispered, But you have to understand me too, mom was crying, I asked, afraid that this year I zagulyayu or something, so I suddenly became still.

"My dear girl" the angel looked at me sympathetically, — we here give a damn, who have you cried and for what reason. We are interested in the facts, the most stubborn thing in the world. And the facts are we have something very unsightly. Why are you – no, seriously! then why got married? I mean – our NN? But still married, by the way! She was to be married, and you at that time what were you thinking?!

I was silent. I perfectly remembered what I was thinking in a stuffy foil to the Church, holding a candle in a sweaty fist. That love is love, but the whole while, that I may be a couple of years will stretch no more, and there's my fucking nature still overweight, and then you forgive me, Lord, if you exist...

— Here's something, the angel shook his head and turned the page — Yes, there you have every step of the continuous failures! Girl, my, Oh, come on! In thirty years, so I wanted to make a tattoo – why not?

— Well-at... — puzzled me — I don't remember.

— But I will tell you, the good angel grinned, Then your lover was against it. Primitive, say, the tribes, and the ass of the years droop. So?

— You know better — I frowned, although there was something once, sure it was...

— I have something better, of course... the Ass you were, and not a lover?! Well, go on.
Here written thirty – five years, housewife, in other words – unemployed, of Hobbies is cooking. Cute this picture is. Embroidery stitch alone is not enough. Well, remember, remember, what actually is it?!

— Remembered. Shoot wanted.
— Who to shoot?! – amazed angel and glanced in the book.
— Moving target. Well, or fixed, makes no difference, ' I cry, as it turned out, now could not, but foggy, my body lost its radoznali and went thick grey waves — clay pigeon shooting wanted to do. To sing more like. Long ago it was...

— Confirm — the angel pointed a finger at the Talmud — You, my dear, was all this a pretty decent ability. God, among other things, data. From birth! Where is all of this? Where, I ask you, are dividends?!

— I didn't know I had... — I murmured in response.

— Lie knew – the angel took off his glasses, squinted his eyes and wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose, — well, you all lie, that's what an attack... Well, Madam, let's finish up. Get down to your distribution.

He took out a large blank, stretched it over my biography and started scribbling.

— As you all don't understand — in the voice of an angel heard the desperate — you can't, well, you can't betray themselves at every step, that way you can die before death! And this, incidentally, is the same "sin" that you're all so afraid of!... All think — and so it goes... it's no Joke – every third soul is not your life to live! After all, this is a terrible statistic! And we all have some stupid excuse that my mum was crying and dad was angry, my husband was against it, the rain that day went not in time, – even laugh! – there was no money. Homo sapiens, called erectus... Well, everything is ready — the angel angrily threw the pen will be asked to stand for sentencing. In front of me to get up, in a sense.

I flew across the table and stopped right in front of the angel, all kind expressing guilt and remorse. Hell knows, maybe it'll work.

— Unidentified Soul on charges unlived life is found guilty, the angel looked at me with a stern pity — Extenuating circumstances, such as a) did not know what they are doing, b) were physically unable to achieve or b) not believed in the existence of a higher intelligence is not revealed. The penalty is kind of living the same life until you locate yourself to this. The verdict is final and not appealable. The defendant! Do you understand the sentence?

"No," I blinked plaintively, Is in hell?

— Well, hell, you have not earned, baby, — smiled the angel, — and vacancies there... — he waved his hand hopelessly — will Go to purgatory, will be close to many of the simulation until the court recognizes you have lived your life. Oh, and will you be there to suffer or not – we, sorry, I do not know — and the angel stretched out scribbled yellow form, Now everything is clear?

— More or less — I nodded distractedly, — And where am I going?

— — The angel said and snapped her fingers. Something rattled, banged and in front of me darkened...

— ... one don't let me go with you easily — I heard a familiar voice, And Shackle says she'll defend you vigorously for two days, well, Olga, well, honey, you're gonna help, right? We want you and the tent separate take, and all will be cool, imagine two whole nights, the fire, the river and the three of us?

... It was my school yard, may do not remember what year, dusty, muggy evening. And she's a beautiful girl with a doll face and figure from Sandro Botticelli – my friend – as always happily chirped in my ear, not noticing how the hatred and pain I slowly twist a screw, making it difficult to breathe. So familiar, so dear-a familiar feeling... I'm a good girl, I endured all of this, I'll be good, I'm good, good, good...

— And you went on HY, ' said I gently, with sadistic pleasure watching her rounded porcelain eyes, and, feeling some unfinished scenes added — Both went to... not the mother.
...When an angry knock Lancini heels died away somewhere around the corner, I listened to the ringing emptiness around, and realized that now I finally, deeply, indecent and punishable happy... posted

P. S. And remember, only by changing their consumption — together we change the world! ©

 

Source: karma-amrak.livejournal.com/39181.html#cutid1

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