Ловушка для Мыслеформы. A Trap for a Thought-Form. Премия им. М. Булгакова / M. Bulgakov Award (Билингва: Rus/Eng)

A sto ti doumat a minie? Patsimou ti ni xotchis Gja zvanit? Ti bila na TV? Tam vigrais final? Ti bila na litiratura vicer v Mouzei, da? Gja vidiel tvoi foto v Internet. Kak vse praslo? Haraso? Gavari minie, kak ti tam… Gja xatiel bit s taboi sitsas. I v Mousei toje. Ni mozna litat… Gja xatchou zit s taboi vmiesti. Ti sa mnoi zit. V kakoi strane ti xotchis zit? Gja xatchou v Germany ili v Russie. A ti? V Greece niet rabot, trudna… Xatiel atkrit ristarant s riba ili s miasam… Patsimou ti malchis?»

5. Ucatanagon

I flew into the Mansion five minutes before the fixed time of our literary party, but the Blizzard was delaying the guests.

«Hello!» the Guardian, as usual, graciously relieved me of the snow-powdered furs and handed them over to the hanger. «Who are you going to introduce to the public today? The cryptic book title on the poster is a real charade! „Ucatanagon“, is it about some „Cat“? Or is it just something „gone“? Another Swampy? Baba Yaga? Or the skeleton of Koschey the Immortal?»

«You won’t believe the truth,» I whispered mysteriously as I walked into the cafe.

«One of the Rainbow?!» mirroring my whisper, the Guardian supposed and followed me to make us coffee.

«No, the Rainbow is still ahead of us! And here… how to explain… The annotation says, it’s like a mystical fantasy about options for the further development of mankind, ruled by Ucatanagon with a certain Ma… However, as you read along, you find the bear having non-standard love with the fox, and then killing it.

«S-stop-stop-stop! I see!» the Guardian laughed, handing me a double espresso with milk. «I figured out who the Ucatanagon is!»

«It seems to me that even the author himself didn’t understand who Ucatanagon was, but that doesn’t matter anymore.»

The hall was gradually flooded with guests.

«I look at them,» the Guardian said thoughtfully, «and I think, isn’t it the Ball of…? You know whom I mean…»

«The Ball is scheduled for the 40

 night… Tell me, is the Portal located in the postbox room, where letters to the Creator are written?»

«I can’t answer that question,» the Guardian sighed with a shrug.

«I felt it there… Are there other rooms nearby?»

«Yes, there is one next to the postbox room.»

«Could you open it for me? For a couple of minutes, while the guests are gathering…»

We sailed into an adjoining room, where I slowly spun around the table.