Monday, July 27, 2020

Chapter 145 : Rybakov's poetry


« I'm nothing but a ghost. Lord I want to redeem my soul .. forgive me. »
Assassin fell at Specter's feet and disappeared murmuring:
« Amen. »
The battle was over.
Sergei Rybakov had lost but wasn't angry, in a way he knew that he would fail and that he would never be able to win the war. Friedrich let out a sigh of relief and Rybakov said to him:
« Every time I close my eyes I tremble, I'm afraid I won't be able to open them again. This fear will haunt me as long as this war goes on and I can't stand it anymore. »
Rybakov took a gun out of his jacket, Friedrich knew what he was going to do and exclaimed:
« Don't do it! It's not worth it ... your life cannot end because of this damned war. »
Rybakov removed the safety catch.
« Why do it? Why do you want to do such a terrible thing to yourself ?! Once the war is over you can have a normal life! »
Rybakov pointed the gun towards his temple.
« Please listen to me! »
« There are only nightmares in my life. » Rybakov said with shining eyes: « I wanted to find the answers but I couldn't bear the weight ... it's too much for me ... »
« Please ... don't do it ... »
« You're strong ... can't say the same about me.I don't know the strength, I've never been a strong man. I did what I did to try to change my destiny ... but it's useless. Everything we do is useless because we cannot really change our nature, what is written is written, cannot be erased and so we go on to the cliff.
Ready to take one last step. »
« Stop ... please ... » Friedrich was desperate, he didn't know how to convince Rybakov.
« Не за то во́лка бьют, что сер, а за то, что овцу́ съел. (Ne za to volka b'yut, shto ser, a za to, shto ovtsy s'yel.) »
Rybakov pulled the trigger.
« NO! »
A shot went off.
Rybakov fell to the ground.
Silence fell.
Friedrich approached the body remaining silent, saw that Rybakov was holding something else in the other hand, it was a crumpled sheet of paper, took it and read its contents:

Stars are devoured by the night,
The moon suffocates in the embrace of darkness,
The world subsides, closes its eyes and falls asleep
Lying on the ashes of his past.


« I hold your heart, Rybakov ... I will keep it with me, your death will not be forgotten. »
Friedrich left wiping his eyes, Specter was waiting for him, the time had come to capture Herbert Schmidt.

Friedrich Wolff by Bikowolf

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