A little girl laid in a single hospital room. Her cheeks fell, her lips dried, she lost her life-like brilliance, her skin became a gray, corpse shade. Why torture so small child? Bone rotting. The rot spread quickly over the small, once-spirited calf. The candle did not melt away so fast as the life of this girl died. Mother almost did not leave her alone, trying not to leave her little child alone with her illness. But for the night the girl was left alone, her mother no one allowed to be present with her. Sometimes... Sometimes an old woman came to see her. She did not talk to the girl. I just sat next to her and watched. I watched the child wither as the last air penetrates into the small lungs somewhere under the delicate ribs. She, this old woman, as if waiting for something. Quietly, slowly, without hurrying the child, waited until the heart stops resisting pus and succumbs to tranquility and pacification.
But recently her patience began to pass. Each time she returned all the more irritable, walked around the room around the girl's bed, made her eyes callous. The kerchief slept from her head to her shoulders, and the white-gray hair was disheveled, as if she was stirring them with her hooked fingers, wrapped in wrinkled old skin. The girl just watched her silently, imploring the sun to ascend as quickly as possible, so that her mother could come. When the mother appeared, the old woman always left, frightened by such a strong vital energy of a young woman. But every day to experience the frank hysterics of the old woman was getting heavier and heavier. Each her cry was given in the head of the child by the impact of a jackhammer, the pain from which first passed through the entire calf before it hit the head. It seemed even that the blood circulation was accelerating for a while, quickly delivering pus to the ventricles of the heart. One of the nights the girl and at all experienced a miracle. But it was given to her very hard...
"Mom, I have to go," the girl croaked softly, looking into the frightened eyes of the woman.
"What?.. Where do you want to go?" What for?
"The old lady came. She said that it was time for me to go."
"My sun, what an old lady?" The mother's voice trembled. "Where did she come from?"
"From there," with a thin gray handle, which the girl lifted with great effort, she pointed to a tightly closed medium-sized window.
A middle-class man could easily climb into it, and with great desire even a large person could pass through it. But that's just why someone get to her daughter? Especially if it was an old lady.
"Do not go anywhere, with anyone to leave. Just stay with me. Remember, I told you that you cannot go and talk with strangers."
"Okay," the girl croaked heavily and closed her eyes.
She did not fall asleep. She had not slept in a long time. During the day I did not want to waste time with my mother, at night - this old woman. She just closed her eyes. The girl so calmed down, driving away bad thoughts and as if gained strength, for some time defeating the disease.
At night, the girl sighed deeply and calmly. Today the old lady did not come. This is the first time, perhaps, for a long time, when the girl fell asleep. She lay motionless, with her eyes closed and with a blissful pacification on her face. Her chest from her breaths rose hardly noticeably, so that looking at her, one could think that she was dead.
The girl herself felt like a doll. Frozen, motionless doll, which no one has played for a long time and threw it into some old dusty closet. This feeling arose because of the leaden little lead, and her skin seemed to harden, such as clay or porcelain. Just a beautiful, forgotten doll.
For a few days the girl lived without this old woman, so that she could fall asleep every night. The complexion acquired a pinkish healthy hue, it seemed that the child was on the mend. She began to talk more, move the handles.
But one quiet night, falling asleep, the girl saw an old woman from the corner of her eye. She stood outside the window with a reproachful look and crooked in displeasure with dry lips. Sleep as a hand took off. If the girl could jump, she would have done it for sure from the frighteningly unexpected arrival of the nocturnal guest.
The old woman stood behind a closed window, examining the girl's face with small eyes. But inside the room did not pass, although earlier the window did not interfere with it.
After a while, apparently having played enough in "peepers," the old woman reached out her hand through the window. At that moment, her face softened, even a smile ran over her lips. She clearly expected that the girl would go with her. But the girl pursed her lips, squeezed the blanket with her little hands as best she could, squeezed her eyes shut and turned away. All night she lay like this, without moving, shuddering from every angry blow of the old woman on the glass. And she prayed that my mother would come soon.
And it all started anew. Night after night came the old woman, luring the girl to her. Even without paying attention to the mother, who now did not leave her daughter's room, even at night, falling asleep only at her bedside, and then for a little while.
"Mom," the girl croaked softly, slowly moving her bloodless lips. "She threatens me with a finger, scolds... I have to go."
"No," the woman squeezed the child's hand, trying to calm her trembling. "Do not go. Do not. Here am I. You'll come with me, will not you? To dad, to your little sister..."
"To my little sister?"
"Yes," the woman smiled. "She's been waiting for you, she's bored."
"She's bored..." repeated the girl in exhalation. "I miss you, too. When can I come to her?"
"When we'll drive this old lady away."
But doctors gave disappointing predictions: the child does not last for weeks. The old woman came already in the afternoon, impudently approaching the bed of the girl and trying to grab her hand. But my mother was in the way. She began to feel her. She stood between them or turned on a bright light at night. I did not allow to touch my child in all possible ways.
Over time, the old woman gave up. She wanted to devour the soul of a child who was not yet destined to die. And while the little girl and her mother fought, Death herself learned about the offense of an unruly soul. But she did not tolerate disobedience. Therefore, the old woman disappeared from people's lives.
The girl was soon discharged, despite all the predictions of doctors, she is destined to live a long life. Doctors are not always right in the diagnosis that Lady Death brings.
Thanks for reading!
