© Виктория Олеговна Рогозина, 2022
ISBN 978-5-0053-1096-5
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
The night for Elmira Petrovna was hard again. And not even because Death was near, on the contrary, they were waiting for her here. At the eightieth year of life, Elmira Petrovna began to lose her health greatly. The doctors shrugged their shoulders, exploring expensive drugs for which the pensioner had no money. The years went by, it only got worse, and Elmira Petrovna began to wait more and more for the guests who are feared all over the world. Sometimes the pain was so strong that the grandma begged for death, but she did not hurry to take it.
And lying in bed and waiting for another attack, Elmira Petrovna said softly and almost tenderly:
Come on, my dear, come on. Why stand in vain? There is no truth in the legs.
You might think that it is in a soft spot, the eerie whisper whispered around the room.
The long curtain was pushed aside and in the light of a desk lamp she had become – Death. She was beautiful in her greatness, but just as terrible. Smooth white skull with black, like the darkness itself, eye sockets looked at the grandmother’s smoked face.
– Come in, don’t be shy, insisted the old woman. Maybe a tea with a cake?
Is it too kindly?! – The skull asked coldly. The bony hand straightened the hood, and disappeared into the black cloak again.
