russian spoken here.


Posted in writing by litingyu on May 21, 2009

                  Her earliest memory was the smell of mold and cat fur.Then her consciousness spread to the noisy pipes and roaring furnace, though at the time she didn’t know what “pipe” and “furnace” meant. At first, the thing of orange and red frightened her. It held a will of its own, furry and writhing. The surrounding air felt different, and it hurt to hold her hand close.

Later on she learned the word “fire”, and thought to link that with the orange monster that kept her from shaking many times in the non-day. It made no difference to her whether it was day or not. But she knew that shortly after Man feeds the furnace, the silver shadows went away and everything would be covered by black. Then, a long time after furnace quiets down, the silvery shadows would return, and everything would be colored again. 

That was how she grew, in cycles of blackness and coloredness, with furnace and fire keeping her alive. 

Mostly it was Man who came to feed her. He always arrived with an overwhelming cloud that made her eyes water and nose wrinkle. Every day before he feeds furnace, Man would drop a package wrapped in material that was covered with scribbles of black and white, crunchy and easy to pull apart. Every thing had no taste, but it felt wonderful to have thick chunks of things slide down and settle deep inside her.

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