Ghosts of sorrow

1
Who tells that you won’t see London with your own eyes, if you live in the town of Tsibsk, on the second floor of a house with only one wall? Who tells that the only way to exit the town is to get on a mini-bus, which will drive you away to nowhere?  Why to be so pessimistic? All the inhabitants of our town are aware that in the West there is a usual exit, not connected with time-space distortion or supernatural forces. Nevertheless, nobody had ever tried to leave the town in such a traditional way before I decided to do that. Most apparently, everybody was afraid of the Old Graveyard, which, according to the legend, stood in the outskirts. Everyone feared of Death, which probably lived there.
The people had the following reasons: “What’s the sense of going to meet Death? It is as stupid as trying to leave the town not through the West. You’ll be brought back, anyway”. It is probably so, but nobody of them knew for sure if the Old Graveyard, where Death lived, really existed. In any case, I was so eager to see London that I made my mind to leave my hometown and take a journey through the unknown.
When I told my neighbours about my intention, they said nothing, but only made a skeptical smile, waved their hands and nodded in a way they wanted to say “Good luck, fool!”
I had almost packed my things when the most silent and imperceptible neighbour of mine came up to me. They called him Johnson-the-Poorwretch. He had been given such a nickname because of his habit to stay away from people after his relatives and friends’ leaving the town on the mentioned mini-bus.
He was quite a young lad, always having shaggy hair, with his face constantly wearing a veil of melancholy. He told me:
– Heard, you are going to the West to see London. You have no fears?
– I do a bit, – I answered: – But why must I be sticking here forever? Not going to take the bus, too expensive. And what the hell knows where it’ll bring you? I believe that in the West there is a huge world, and there must be the place in it, where London stands. Besides, there you are free to go wherever you want.
– And what about the Old Graveyard, Death?
– Well, even if they exist, what of it? Who knows? Maybe, London is right behind the Graveyard!
– Eh… Come what may! Could I go with you?
– Why not?  I’d be glad to have a company!
Though Johnson was not a friend of mine, who knows, what would happen on the way? It would be much safer to have a companion.
So, I and Johnson-the-Poorwretch set off to the West.

2

While we were going out of Tsibsk in the western direction, strange things began to happen. Half-destroyed buildings of the town and endless rubbish were gradually seen less, and the dense cover of gray clouds was dissipating. Eventually, we saw it – the sun! I and Johnson had never seen such bright light before.
When our eyes got used to it, we discovered a much more amazing thing. No, there was no Old Graveyard. All that rumour turned out to be lies. We saw a vast field covered with emerald grass and making dizzy of wild flowers’ fragrance.
A tender breeze billowing slightly the grass seemed to be stroking mother-earth’s silk hair; the birds were singing anthems to the wind and sun, and curly clouds were lovingly watching from above.
I felt great joy of life, while merely admiring a charming landscape, which I hadn’t been able to see even in my dreams when I lived in Tsibsk. I could see something new on Johnson-the-Poorwretch’s face, too. It was new for him as well, and that was a smile. I gave him a friendly clap on his back and said cheerfully:
 – So, brother? Where’s your Death?
– Yes… I didn’t know that such things could exist. – He answered and added: – But have a look. There’s a dark stripe in the horizon. Probably, it’s a forest.
– Maybe. Well, let’s go ahead!
We went forward across the field in silence, without looking back. Who knows? Maybe, London is right behind the forest. 
Indeed, the field turned into the forest, and we finally reached its beginning. Before continuing the journey in the forest thicket we decided to halt.
We sat on a log, took food out of our backpacks and began having meals. Meanwhile we had a talk. I said to Johnson-the-Poorwretch:
– Hey, Johnson! You’re always so unsociable. People say, all your close people drove away on the bus. Why didn’t you do it either? Maybe, you would meet somewhere? Why do you need London?
– And why do you?
– Well. There are the Westminster Palace, Big Ben, famous parks, the Tower. That’s why! But answer my question, first.
– You’ve already answered it yourself, – said Johnson-the-Poorwretch, and his sadness got back on his face.
– Weird you are, Johnson. Or, perhaps, you aren’t missing your relatives and friends, but something else?
The question was left without a reply, since from the thicket we suddenly heard some slow quiet steps. Oh my god! A walking skeleton was coming up to us! By seeing it, I opened my eyes wide and murmured:
– Oops. Getting interesting.
Johnson slightly opened his mouth and was breathing deeply, unable to say anything.
But we were not frightened by the skeleton and had no intention to run away. Of course, it’s an incredible thing: to see a walking skeleton, but we didn’t feel any danger of him, because he was waddling, his back stooped. Finally, he approached us. We stood up, and then he uttered in a croaky unpleasant bass:
– What are doing here?
I didn’t get flustered, and guessed about him:
– You’re from the Old Graveyard, aren’t you?
– Of course, I am! And what are you doing here?
– We’re looking for London, – said Johnson.
– No London here, – the skeleton answered.
I asked him:
– And is there nothing behind the Graveyard?
– There may be something, but I haven’t ever gone out of the forest.
– Well, now you are here, by the forest border. The field, flowers, birds and so on are nearby. Haven’t you been at the opposite side of the forest?
– No, – the skeleton said dryly.
– Does the forest have the end? – Johnson asked.
– I don’t know, – still briefly answered the skeleton.
I told him in contempt:
– Ah, go to hell! No use of you!
Then I addressed to Johnson-the-Poorwretch:
– Let’s go, Johnson. I see, the damned Old Graveyard really exists, and probably, Death is waiting for us there. But the dead from it seem to be somehow feeble. I hope we’ll pass without troubles. Are you ready?
– I’m not going back, – he answered.
So, we left the skeleton behind and went into the deep forest.

3
As we were going across the forest, it was getting colder and darker. The air changed, too: it smelled dampness and mustiness. Then there fell night, and we could see anything only thanks to the moonlight. At last, the trees began thinning out and we saw that very Old Graveyard. Hundreds, even thousands of tombstones, most of them toppled over and broken, were standing there. Somewhere one could see rich crypts, but ramshackle and ominous as well. A mysterious bright-green fog was floating over the ground. At first, everything was quiet. But suddenly, a formidable battle-call resounded, and dead men’s arms began thrusting through the earth. Thousands of arms!
Then I and Johnson got really scared! Did the dead men, having smelt the living ones, decide to bring our bodies and souls as a gift to their mistress, Death? But I was stern and did not want to step back. My companion was also standing still. We decided to stay and watch what would occur.
After all, the dead came out of their graves, and we could see them wearing ancient battle armour. Some of them wore horned helmets and every one of them had weapon: swords, shields, bows and arrows. Then the battle cry was heard again, but the dead warriors did not throw themselves upon us, but they started fighting with each other without distinction. It was a great battle! Their cries and the metal clank were deafening! We were gazing and could not take our eyes off the battle.
The fallen dead men were immediately engulfed by the earth. An hour later, only a handful of the most steadfast dead warriors remained. They were fighting with great spirit, and could not defeat each other. Then another battle call sounded from nowhere, and the combat finished. Heroic warriors stopped fighting, sheathed their swords and with measured steps went away in different directions. I made a giggle and said:
– Have you seen it, Johnson? What the nonsense was that?
– No idea. I suppose, they haven’t even noticed us.
– Maybe, we shall go to talk to one of these “knights”.
– Okay.
We drew close to one of the victorious dead men from behind. I was the first to ask:
– Ehh.. Sir! Won’t you kill us?
– What? – He turned to us, scanned us with obvious disapproval and wondered: – Who are you? What are you doing here?
– So, won’t you kill us? – I said.
– Seems like you’re alive. Well. What the hell do I need you? If you were dead, I’d do such a favour.
The dead man’s reply made us confused, but I still remembered the aim of our journey and insisted on getting to know the way to London and was not afraid of asking him about it.
– London? Have never heard, – he answered.
– And do the forest and the Graveyard have an end, after all?
– I don’t know. – The dead warrior said the same as the skeleton had done. 
– Understood. And is it safe to move forward? Will anyone touch us? – I wondered.
– No idea. – said the dead knight.
Apparently, he really had no interest in the outer world. We decided to leave him and continued our way.
We were moving through the Graveyard and didn’t notice any other dead men. We could only hear crows croaking and fallen leaves rustling. The rows of the tombstones stretched beyond the horizon. The Graveyard seemed to be endless. Suddenly, from afar we saw some glowing white strips, moving quickly among the tombstones. I said in a low voice:
– What the hell is that?
Johnson uttered:
– Here we’ve come.
– We’ve come? What do you mean?
– I have come.
– Where? Johnson, tell me clearly!
– Home.
– Dammit! – I got indignant, – What kind of “home” are you about? Are you crazy?
– You asked about those white strips by the tombstones. These are ghosts of sorrow.
– And where did you get to know that? To be honest, I can’t get surprised at anything after what I’ve seen today, but make it clear: what the kind of things are those ghosts of sorrow?
– Heh, – Johnson-the-Poorwretch only gave a sneer in response.
Then something extraordinary was happening to him, and, though I had sworn off surprising at anything, I had no other emotions in regard of what I saw.
Some bright white light began to stream from Johnson’s eyes; his body was thrashing in convulsions, he didn’t make a single cry of pain, though. A clot of white light, looking like a ball lightning, detached from Johnson and with a wild speed flew away to the spot where those “ghosts of sorrow” were seen.
Then his body shrank, as if all his sap was gone. All of a sudden, his flesh disappeared completely, and only Johnson-the-Poorwretch’s bones remained under his clothes.
For a couple of minutes I was thinking over what had just happened and then I understood why Johnson was always sad.

4
I understood everything. I was not the first to leave the town of Tsibsk through the western exit. One of those damned ghosts had obviously seized a bold young man like me, who also dreamt of finding London or something like that… and it made him a poor wretch.
I realized that I would not escape the same destiny when one of those white balls was heading onto me. Yes, it moved into me, and a ghost of sorrow became a part of me through entering my eyes.
At first, I only felt a slight itching and vertigo, but it seemed like nothing else changed. I did not become a wretch like poor Johnson. I was ready to carry on my way to goddamn London.
At last, the Graveyard and the forest ended. The small white lights by the tombstones were left behind. I went out of the forest, but there was no sunlit emerald field in my sight.
The earth was bare, the air was heavy as in autumn; it was rather cold, and the sky was normally gray. It began snowing. I set up a tent and made a halt. After having dinner, I went to sleep and slept soundly, though my body was quivering.
When I got up I felt like having lost my hope to find the desired London or something like that, but I went forward, without knowing whither.   
It was already dark when in the distance I saw a wide river and some buildings standing along it. Yes, it was a city. But it did not look like London. I went into the city. Nobody was seen in the street. The buildings I had noticed before, were ugly panel five-storied houses. There already were some snowdrifts on the ground. Then nighttime set in, but there was no light in any of the buildings. Evidently, the city was abandoned. A strange feeling of gloom seized me. I had never felt such despair before. Anyway, I slowly moved through the streets along the river in a dim moonlight.
Suddenly, a lightning flashed and illuminated – oh, my god! – the Westminster Palace and Big Ben! That was London!
Is this London? Where are crowds of people, double-decker buses, black cabs? Where are the illustrious Royal Parks? The Buckingham Palace with the Scottish guards, the Tower, Tower Bridge, St. Paul’s Cathedral, Madame Tussauds, Trafalgar Square, the National Gallery, the British Museum and so on?
I had been wandering across that “London” for a long time, but did not find anything else worthy of attention, but the deserted Westminster Palace and Big Ben, which I carefully inspected.
So, I moved into one of those panel houses where I have been living up to the moment. I am afraid of going back to Tsibsk through the Old Graveyard, because I will have the same doom as Johnson-the-Poorwretch had. I am going to live here. Till the moment when my ghost of sorrow leads me itself to its fellows.