It was then that I began trying to find my way by touch. I was trying hard to see anything through the pitch dark, and as I listened to the wind’s howl, I hurried. Little by little, I became filled with an inexplicable fear, which turned to horror as I realized that I had lost my way.

“Hey, taxi,” I cried, with no reply. I then decided I should walk in a straight line, reasoning that sooner or later, I would get to a big street, where there would be lights and taxis.

Without looking back, being afraid to look even to my sides, I started to run …

Ivan Ivanovich paused, downed a shot of vodka, and stroked his moustache, before continuing on.

I don’t really remember how long I ran. The only thing that I remember is bumping against something, badly hurting my knee, and extreme pain.

I remember sensing it was a strange object…. I could not see it in the darkness, but felt with my fingers that it was cold, wet and smoothly polished. I sat on it, while I rested. I won’t take advantage of your patience, but I can tell you that after a while, when I lit my match to light a cigarette, I saw that I was sitting on a tombstone!

Around me, I could not see anything but darkness, nor hear a single human sound. Then, I saw a tombstone! In horror, I closed my eyes and jumped to my feet. I took a step away from the tombstone, and stumbled into something else! Imagine my horror as I encountered a wooden cross from the cemetery!

“Oh my God, I am in a graveyard,” I thought, covering my face with my both hands, as I sat back down on the marble tombstone. Instead of the Presnya District Cemetery, I usually went to the Vagankovo Cemetery. As a rule, I am afraid neither of cemeteries nor of the dead. I am not prejudiced, nor do I believe in fairy tales. However, after finding myself among these silent graves in the middle of the night, with the wind howling and dark thoughts filling my mind, I suddenly felt my hair stand on end as a cold shiver went up my spine.

“This cannot be,” I spoke aloud to try and calm myself. “This is just an illusion, a hallucination. It’s all in my imagination, especially since I have recently read a book about spiritualism.”

At this moment, lost in my nightmarish thoughts, I heard some very weak and quiet footsteps. Someone was walking toward me, but they didn’t seem like human footsteps, for they were too light and way too frequent.

“A dead man walking,” I thought.

Finally, this mysterious someone drew close to me, touched my knee, and heaved a deep sigh. Then I heard a howl. It was a terrible, deadly howl coming from a grave, pulling at my nerves. If as a child you were scared of your nanny’s fairy tales, and stories about dead men, imagine how I felt as I heard the howl from somewhere near me!

I instantly became sober as I froze in horror. It seemed to me that if I opened my eyes, I would see a pale yellow bony face, covered in half-rotten cloth.

“Oh God! I wish morning would come faster!” I prayed.

However, before morning came, I went through another inexpressible horror, a horror impossible for me to describe. As I sat on the tombstone, listening to the howling of the grave dweller, I suddenly heard new steps.

Someone was coming straight toward me, with heavy rhythmic footsteps.

As soon as he came to me, the creature from the grave let out a deep sigh, and a moment later a cold, heavy and bony hand rested heavily on my shoulder.

At that moment, Ivan Ivanovich had another shot of vodka and cleared his throat for the second time.

“And what then?” the ladies asked him.

I woke up in a small square room. The dawn could hardly shine its light through the small barred window. “Well, well,” I thought. “This must mean the dead men pulled me deep into the graveyard.”

Suddenly, I was filled with joy, for I heard human voices behind the wall.

“Where did you find him?” a low but loud bass voice questioned.

“Yes, sir! I found him in front of the Mr. Whitehead’s Monument Store, sir!” another hoarse voice answered. “Right next to the showroom with tombstones. I saw him sitting there embracing the monument, with a dog howling next to him. My guess is he had quite a few drinks, sir.”

In the morning, when I was completely awake, they released me from the police station.

WHAT YOU USUALLY FIND IN NOVELS

tahir

A duke, a duchess who used to be a beautiful woman, a rich man who lives next door, a left-wing novelist, an impoverished nobleman, a foreign musician, various servants: butlers, nurses, and tutors, a German estate manager, a gentleman, and an heir from America.

All the characters are unremarkable, yet sympathetic and attractive people. The hero saves the heroine from a crazed horse; he is strong-willed, and he shows his strong fists at every opportunity.

The sky is wide, the distances are vast, and the vistas are broad, so broad that they are impossible to understand.