Мракобесие: начало

He was madly lonely in a strange city. He didn't tell his mother the new address of the rented apartment, afraid that the life-weary woman would surely tell someone with pride: “My Georgie managed to achieve...”. Then Joey will know about it. For some reason, Georgie was sure that he would take the trouble to come and check what exactly Siegelman had achieved.

George got cactus to keep himself company. It was raining that day. He was going back from work to the rented apartment paid by Rudinstein in solidarity. The chief, by the way, never in his life experienced such troubles. However, he knew how to trouble others, bursting into the office early in the morning with a shout and thousands of tasks: “urgent, asap, immediate, need-it-now!”. At first, this scared Georgie and he even started to think about changing his work again, never staying anywhere for more than a month, when suddenly the boss entered his office with a bottle of expensive brandy and began to complain about his life, love problems, difficulties with tax agency and clients of his lawyer’s office which someone firmer wanted to take over. Then Georgie told him everything he couldn’t forget. Surprisingly, the chief had really taken to him and gave him a generous rise so that it would be enough both for the apartment and for a living and not just for one thing only as it was before that day.

For the first time in his entire adult life, Siegelman was going home absolutely happy. And that moment, of all moments, the heaven split up and then the rain came in a hearty flood. With the huge bubbles on just formed puddles, it was perfectly clear that the rain was going to be steady. Georgie only jumped into the nearest store. Having admired the cloudy scenery outside the window, the man turned around and caught the gaze of a young saleswoman. Even now he still couldn’t explain what she found in him. But her apparent interest in him cheered George up notably. A month later, she left him for more successful Rudinstein, and he went to a bigger company, where he blended into a crowd of clerks as a gray mouse, away from the eyes of the management. Only a tiny cactus remained in memory of that meeting at the flower shop.

Working overtime to save up for the purchase of the apartment he rented, Siegelman still couldn’t get a pet. It needed care. In addition, George had serious concerns about the possibility that it would run away to live with a neighbor who could buy more expensive and tasty food. So the cactus was his best friend to whom he read in the evenings, unable to get rid of this habit taught by his mother since childhood. With this very cactus, he also discussed his small ups and downs, the rise in price for utilities and food, the sunrises and sunsets he saw, the change of times and government. The cactus was attentive to him like no other and Georgie appreciated it, caring for the plant with his soul.

Soon his prickly friend suddenly fell ill. The man carried his cactus around to all shops, driving laughing sellers mad as they didn’t understand the affection to the flower. He stubbornly didn’t want to change it for another and the cactus was no less stubbornly decaying before his eyes.

Desperate Siegelman complained to the seller at his favorite bookstore. It was probably one of those few places where his thirst for reading wasn’t ridiculed. However, the bookseller gave a very unexpected and extremely strange piece of advice which Georgie followed in the absence of others.

This way, his home became full of other flowers and books with different rituals, calling upon all kinds of powers for harmony, success and wealth in the house. Cactus recovered surprisingly quickly and even pleased Georgie with a rather rare phenomenon – flowering.

Cactus wasn’t jealous like a wife or a friend could be. It seemed to be happy with every new plant at home and as much as the owner was eager to get a rare flower Siegelman read about in another book with rituals. Since then, he found meaning and had been purposefully searching for it in all texts.

Now George was looking at his dream in the hand of the unexpected strange guest, still not able to believe in the reality of what was happening.

“What's that?”

“A flower... The one you dreamed about. Just a gift. Kind of redemption.”

“Flower?” George asked doubtfully.

“Take it!”

George stretched his hand, going to take the flower he had dreamed of for several years. And suddenly that same beautiful butterfly that had already become his good friend that day flashed before him, knocking the flower out of the hands of the visitor. He didn’t get the chance to take a small sprout brought to him as a gift. The strange butterfly had an unexpectedly sobering effect on him and he didn’t know whether to be happy with his sobering or sad at the loss of the long-desired sprout.

Fury flashed in the eyes of the guest but soon was quickly replaced by the sluggish regret and hid from the sight of the gracious host.

Just as quickly as it appeared, the butterfly was gone, but George felt it somewhere very close. Something invisible made his guest uncomfortable. He hurried to leave, promising to come back immediately with a new sprout and a new conversation.