Little Siberia by Antti Tuomainen

Author:Antti Tuomainen [Antti Tuomainen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781912374526
Publisher: Orenda Books Ltd
Published: 2019-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

11

In Ancient Rome, Christians were routinely tied to four horses by their four limbs. Then the horses were whipped into a trot, and when they reached full speed the ropes began to tighten. It feels as though something similar is happening to me, but instead of horses I have thoughts.

My breath steams up in front of me as I walk towards the Golden Moon Night Club. The snowdrifts glint in the morning half-light. I grip my phone – the phone that only sends a certain type of message to a certain recipient.

It isn’t easy to admit.

Jealousy isn’t just the loss of our everyday common sense; it’s a degenerative disease. That much I understand. Judging by everything that’s happened, I have reached the stage where I think – secretly, in the back of my mind, in the deepest, darkest recesses of my soul – that I have the right to look around. Of course I know that when someone sufficiently plagued by jealousy says he is just looking around, he is either planning a murder or heading off in the early hours to play away from home. This logical conclusion begs the self-righteous question: if Krista has, shall we say, made more than a passing acquaintance with one of the villagers, why can’t I do the same? This is pure madness, I know that. I recall seeing and hearing hundreds of people whose lives were more or less ruined after they decided to avenge their perceived wrongs at the hands of a wayward partner. It’s hardly surprising because more often than not those wrongs are only imaginary. It’s hard to cure madness with more insanity.

I pass my workplace.

The church looks as though it has been flung into the snowy woodland, out of reach. It is surrounded by tall pine trees and behind that a row of thick spruces. Situated slightly to the west, the church office is still in shadow. The beams of the rising sun catch the tall, narrow metallic cross on top of the church. I’ve often wondered at quite how durable that cross is. This morning it looks even flimsier than usual as it reaches up into a new day, alone and vulnerable.

The low stone wall around the graveyard is covered in snow. I can see the car park serving the church, the graveyard and the church hall. There appears to be a car parked in the furthest parking space. I recognise the car and make – a Volkswagen Jetta – but I don’t know who it belongs to. The sun is shining into the car windows at such an angle that I can’t see if there’s anyone inside.

I try to formulate a message. I’m going to try one more time. I know I’m only accruing more things for which I’ll eventually have to apologise, but that is certainly not the only matter in which I am conflicted. It feels as though my whole life is a contradiction. The rising sun gleams between the snow-covered trees. Its beams cut through the grey; it tears, giving way.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.