One day I was wandering through the mountains, and from people, in particular from a black guide, I listened to enthusiastic statements about how two local brothers had written a brilliant work of art, which everyone around was crazy about and constantly discussed.
After talking to other people, I discovered that strange rumors were floating around in society, and perhaps this was not their work, but some other author was hiding behind the brothers, whose thread stretched deep into the mountains. My curiosity got the better of me and I followed the trail.…
A complex mountain path winds, abandoned objects are scattered around, and a small railway leading to the other side of the gorge appears and disappears along the edge of the cliff.… It becomes much more difficult to walk, and an increasingly steep ascent begins.
When I reach an almost sheer cliff, I notice that iron ledges are attached to the stones. Groping around, looking for a way on, I get my hands on a very specific iron whip, at the end of which is attached a magnet that can cling to these ledges, and allows you to climb up a steep slope.…
You cling to the ledge, then pull yourself up, swing the whip, which detaches from the previous hook and rushes to the next one… It’s good when you hit… But when, after a series of successful climbs, I miss, I start to fall into the abyss… I hurriedly try to swing and at the last moment I cling to the ledge, falling heavily down…
I start climbing again, from here the climb slopes to the side, and I realize that a previously hidden path leading to the other side of the gorge opens up in front of me. I move to the other side, pulling myself up to the platform in front of the cave, where, in turn, the guide, who had previously told everyone stories about a popular work of art in the valley, climbs from the other side and tries to drive the caves away from me.
I ignore him and go inside. A completely residential room has been cut down in the cave, where many old and strange things are laid out around as if they were once put here for storage, but it is clear that they have not been used for a long time.
The guide is trying to set the dogs on me, which he has on a leash, but firstly, I still have an iron whip in my hand, with which I drive them away, and secondly, these dogs are similar in size and habits to chihuahuas, and they do not particularly complicate the situation. I walk deeper into the room, examining the curiosities around me.
I notice a door in the far corner of the room, and realizing that the guide is trying to keep me out, I open it with a little effort, entering a small living room where I am greeted by an agitated strange man, all white, plump, with red streaks on his face and crooked arms.
After greeting me and making an important face, he informs me, in response to my questions about who he is, that he is a writer, and this is his bestseller on everyone’s lips right now, and here he has been living as a hermit for a long time, communicating with the world only by sending and receiving a small train of a toy railway connecting both ends gorges…
© Vasiliy Deynega, 26 January 2020
