Tomorrow I was here

Tomorrow I was here

Oleg Seriy

Translator

 Tatjana Guziy

Cover design

 Ekaterina Sinotova

© Oleg Seriy, 2018

ISBN 978-5-4493-3003-1

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

TOMORROW I WAS HERE

by Oleg Seriy without MaRiCaBo

published by PROJECT – EDEN with the help of Ridero

© Copyright 2011 Oleg Seriy without MaRiCaBo

© Translated by Tatjana Guziy

© Cover artwork by Ekaterina Sinotova

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PROJECT – EDEN & Ridero Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Ridero and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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CONTENTS

Part 1

/ Dream

Story of life

In the hospital

Part 2

/ 

Ancient prophecy

Part 3

/ War

Pursuit

Memoirs

Enlightenment

Forced landing

P.S.

From the author

Part 1

Dream

When the mountains merge together, when the sun rises after the years of darkness, know that came to the throne the ruler of fate THE CHOSEN ONE.

He lay staring at the ceiling. His eyes didn’t rush about from side to side at the speed of light, as some traders have. In his view it was possible to determine that that person was very goal-seeking. He stared dully at the ceiling at one point, as if the roof would fall at that moment and he would be suddenly dazzledby the flux of sunrays. But that did not happen. The room was dark, wet, damp. It was difficult to breathe. Almost with every breath he screamed of pain as if he was hammered a nail. He could not breathe properly. That man was constantly coughing. Lump came to his throat. He suffered from pain because he had not been eating and drinking for the second day. He was in the mud and slime, which that cell was filled. There was almost no clothes left on him… That bunch of rags could be only called clothes. His hair was unwashed for a couple of months, he was constantly scratching – he had lice.

On his face, even in the dark you could see a couple of scars – from cheek to ear – signs of torture. His eyes were small, and he almost did not blink – he was used to the darkness. Though physically he was alive, but his soul began to pass away from that world. He was not alone in that prison. Behind him on the bench you could see some black shadows, it seemed that they hold conversation about something. Suddenly he was blinded by a sudden effluence of light. He stood up, walked to the door. On the either side of him stood four thugs, who, as soon as he came out, handcuffed him and led along the poorly-lit long corridor.

…It was something horrifying: a large number of red clouds – darkness eaters – gathered over him. Icy cold pierced him through and it seemed that there had been never warm. Thousand torches were burning around, there were many people. At first it seemed that those people were dressed in black. But then he saw white crosses on the backs of their dark green shapeless garments. Our hero saw that picture when he came to himself. People around him were singing a song…

It must be the howling of dogs. He felt giddy, he froze, his stomach turn inside out. People were committing a ritual… He awoke abruptly, jumped out of bed with a distorted face. It was not worth of explaining for a long time that it was a dream… a NIGHTMARE!

Story of life

His name was John Smith. He was born in a small town. Why was he however named John? And why not, after all, his parents were crazy about action-fighters, and the most common name in their names was John. All the more was so because his family had English background. Smith’s name had all their predecessors, and his parents had never thought about its value. John had been very different from their peers since childhood.

When my parents moved away from John’s perambulator at least a couple of steps the ear membranes could be broken from his cry. But parents were used to it, and his father got earplugs at night, and slept peacefully… and the mother? She did not sleep at all, and when she fell asleep her place was under the cradle baby. In the morning he had to go to work! My father did not understand the children, it was alien to him. He drank a lot. Because of the constant scandals (even then the psyche of the child was broken down), he left home and abandoned his mother. But she didn’t keep her head, did not send their children to the boarding school (she had not even thought about it) and decided to bring them up by herself. My mother had a sister and got on well with her. And her husband drove John and his sons to the sea three (or even more) years, to the warm blue sea. He felt so good there. Years passed and passed, but memories remained. Uncle John was a wonderful man (really a man, not his father). John had for his uncle sympathy and sometimes even imitated his uncle, who was for Smith a perfect example of a man, but he was destined to die in the full vigour. That was a great grief to John. He cried almost all the night. It seemed that he wept all the tears. An absurd death was a great misfortune not only for John but for all the relatives and friends, because he was a man who did good things and people came back at him. It seemed he had done everything that every person should do in this life (most likely, every person should live more than one life): to acquire a family, have children, builda house and plant a tree.

John’s torment was so great that he could not even think about studies… it was not so long ago, John lost his grandfather. It turned out that the doctors were “only” (!) mistaken with the diagnosis and treated for another disease. Then John began to execrate the medicine. Perhaps the doctors would ever try a scalpel on his body. Only God knows it.

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Once, when they were resting by the sea (he was three years old), John ran away from his parents, or rather from his parent – mother. At once no one noticed the loss, but he was vanished. Everyone started to run, look for him. And only in hour his cousin brought John by the hand to his mother. Johnny looked ridiculous: a grown-up already but had red eyes and sniffled.

In short, without a word it was clear that our boy had not grown from “the mother’s milk”. John was too small to explain what had happened. And it was this way. In general, he left the mother and ran up intuitively to his boarding house, went up to the first floor. At that time, the elevator was opened and a few people came out and John ran into the cabin, and began to examine it. He was surrounded by high brown walls. A few moments passed, and the doors slammed, and all John’s attempts to reach to the buttons were doomed to failure. The light began to fade, it soon became quite dark, and nothing was visible except the all-consuming darkness. Well, at least John did not suffer from claustrophobia… So it could last for very long, but quick-witted little brother decidedto look through the floors of the boarding house, as all the coasts had been repeatedly verified. In one of the stairwells, he found a kid who, as we see, managed to get out of the elevator after someone called him. There was no longer visible recent blush on the red from crying little face. Tears also ended, leaving only the dried stains. One can only imagine the indescribable joy of the mother, who finally found a brave tourist after a long search.

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Very long ago, when John was just a youngster, a rather interesting story which diversified his life happened to him. Though, the end of it was very deplorable for the kid. He was proud of it and talked a lot about it. As for the sake of him a great train was stopped… A lot of people drove by that train: they all were hurrying somewhere, wanted to get home faster, on a business trip, etc., etc. And suddenly the train before reaching the station, stopped abruptly. People, for sure, wondered why, without apparent reason the train stopped… but it would be better that they did not know. But for you, dear reader, I will explain what really happened. In general, the family returned from Koblevo (Ukraine). They had the reserved seats, sittings and side berths. Thousands of people were there. All were at each other. It was clear that there was no vacant seat. John was too tired in the road and wanted to sleep. He was put to the top shelf and tied by a bed sheet. Perhaps, the sheet was not tied tightly enough, or John spun strongly in a dream, but in the end he slipped out of the sheets and fell down, hurt his head very much on the corner of the iron bed. Wild cry stirred up all the nearby cars, blood gushed from the guy’s back of the head. The uncle ran to stop the train, then he led the doctors who gave John the first aid. The train was standing on the spot half an hour. John continued to sob, though, he did not already feel the pain, only very nasty sticky putty on the head – most likely it was a brilliant green. When they arrived in their hometown, the grandfather and grandmother, after a long absence of the family went out to meet the train station… and they were surprised! A little one with rewound head was carried out. When they went to the emergency room to insert sutures, they were said that it was too late. That’s how John got a scar for life. But that Smith did not get upset, but thanked God that he left to John the most precious thing that could be – his life.

John grew up, grew wiser, and his parents sent him to kindergarten. He was quite sociable and made friends with many children. It seemed that everything was fine… but there were some unpleasant moments. For example, he had a mad kindergarten teacher. Once she brought John to the toilet… and left. There were drafts and kiddy was very frozen and scared. At last teacher hit upon smart enough picking him up from that place. The next day the boy had a cold and fell ill for a long time. John felt the real care only from his relatives.

Then they sent him to school, one of the best in a town. He studied not good, but not bad. But I do not dareto call him a ham-and-egger. I have for it my own reasons. In the process of studying he thought much, philosophized in his soul and could amuse his classmates and teachers without any problem, breaking the lesson. He had a wonderful sense of humor, which many teachers were lack at (or they did not want to spoil their credibility). Because of this, sometimes he had troubles.

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It was like this. In John’s class was a boy Buddy from a wealthy family. He was too spoiled, and everyone was bored with him: he fought, spoiled things, brought may-bugs and mice on lesson, etc. That was, did whatever came to hand. He studied very poor, it’s easier to say that he did not study at all. And he begged for his marks. The only person, whom he did n