In The Night
In winter, especially when there is more snow, the nights are too bright. Its
brightness stops you from concentration, stops you from locking yourself within.
A winter’s night is too bright and festive to commit dirty deeds of some kind or
other beneath its veil. The only thing that compensates it, is cold. The cold is
killing, but there exist a few situations when snow, night and frost may make
your life longer. In winter everything falls into a deep sleep, all floras and
faunas, all birds and dogs (other species do not survive in the urban
labyrinth), all suns and stars, as well as all the morons that due to some
reason or other cannot sleep all the year round. And it’s from them that the
cold can protect. Of course, it’s all happening out of doors, and you might ask
me what the hell should I be doing in the streets on a winter night, why should
I go out in such a terrible weather? There’s no answer, so I go on standing here
and watching the street through the dusty window of my shelter.
I’m Bloodrose.
There are some obstacles for safe loneliness even here, indoors. The light, the
television, someone’s footsteps, a door squeak... Good god, why don’t they
sleep? It’s so late! I would be sleeping, too, if not for... If not for the
night, the night that opens my eyes, frees my mind, gives birth to darkness and
lets me hear the beating of my own heart. All great deeds are also accomplished
by night. All the ghosts, all the spirits, all the zombies and other things like
that start to wake up just now. The vampires are getting out of their caskets,
put on their black capes, sharpen their fangs and go on hunting or just for a
stroll – depending on their mood or appetite. The night is a sort of a pause,
when all the world goes to sleep to start it all over again the next morning.
The dusk, like an alarm clock, informs that the time has come to wake, to open
your mind, to strip away all the masks...
I am standing on a crossroad – it happens so every time the darkness gets stuck
over the earth. I have only two ways, I can choose either, just for one night...
I could fall into the realm of sleep, a realm so enticing and inexplicable that
I cannot control it... I could flee to a different world are stay there until
dawn, in the world where everything is under my control, where each step is my
step, where each word is my word... I step forward... Stop. I’ve already had
something like this before... I remember vaguely: eyes reddened with exhaustion,
brain overwhelmed by information, dozens of contradictory feelings and emotions,
happiness, pain... lots of pain and emptiness... and then nothing – my memory
can’t say anything about what was next. Or maybe, there was nothing next? Yes,
this world is a cruel place, it beckons you, but you can’t get it, you’re
blinded by beautiful views and perspectives, desires and simple curiosity. The
world pulls you inside like a giant swamp – slowly, gradually, but regularly.
And if at first you can get out of it, then it won’t give you such a chance. The
world existing next to us, but independent from our reality. The world I’m
entering...
A little red bulb is starting at me ironically. Suddenly, another bulb appears,
then one more and yet one more. They start blinking at me, but finally this
process stops and only three bulbs remain.
I can enter this world again and over again, each time I have a new face, but
this doesn’t matter – you never know them, they never know you. Each time I ask
myself, whom would I like to be now? And tomorrow? And the day after tomorrow?
Every day I have a new face, a new story, a new life... I flee from everything
that surrounds me, but fleeing I remain there, as if in a nightmare. Fleeing, in
try to convince myself I’m free, but it’s impossible to flee from my own self.
And picking a new mask, I ask myself: who am I in reality? Which of all these
masks is my real face? The more you hide behind someone else’s masks, the more
you get used to them, the more you forget your real face. My life has turned
into a theater, but the actor doesn’t exist. Without my collection of masks, I’m
nothing, a silhouette, a ghost... This frightens me, but I still enter this
world. For there exist things that cannot be found anywhere else.
The cyberspace.
I log in and check my mail. There are no emails – the times when I received tons
of stuff are over. But this doesn’t matter. I’m not here for the emails – I need
something else.
I log on a RPG website and quickly type in my login, Bloodrose. My avatar, an
Egyptian woman, appears on the screen. I can wander throughout this virtual
world, but I need something else. I see someone else’s avatar approaching mine.
I click on it; his name is Basarow. He greets me. But I don’t want to chat with
him. I challenge him to a duel. We start fighting.
It might look rather funny or even silly: two people, represented by their
avatars, clicking and clicking and clicking... But it’s worth it. At least for
me. For I know: when I win, Basarow – or whatever his name is – will never lift
his hand from his mouse. He won’t wake up. This is the only thing I can do, but
it’s worth a thousand other things. I might be a ghost, but I might as well kill
you all out there. And I won’t need a knife or a gun. All I need is a computer.
And once again I stand on a crossroad, one foot in reality, the other in my cozy
little world. I belong there, I remain there until I feel the danger. And it’s
not my instinct – it’s fear. For I’m not the only one who can trap and kill
people in the cyberspace. And sometimes, I just feel sick and tired from running
round and round, since the beginning and the end of this route are known to me.
I’m running. I’m running my memories and I’m also running from the chance to do
it all once again. I’m running, because I no longer belong there where my home
used to be. I’m running when the sun starts to rise, but I never wait to see its
rays.
Copyright by Bloodrose (2003).