Twilight of the Gods

“It’s so beautiful here,” Corinne whispered, taking a white flower out of her hair. A long stalk tickled her cheek, and her hair fell apart. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a soft wave. Corinne was sitting on a chaise longue on the outdoor terrace, and the lagoon sparkled below in the rays of the setting sun. In the distance, against the incredibly scarlet sky, the mountains and silhouettes of palm trees were dark. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, setting in a light haze, reflected in the water, calm as a mirror. Such calmness probably only happens here, at the edge of the universe, in a world beyond time and space, where there has never been a war. And such silence also happens only here. Here, where sirens weren’t screaming, the radio wasn’t always on. Planes did not roar overhead or howl shells. Corinne breathed in the salty scent of the ocean and the sweet, spicy scent of night flowers with pleasure. She could hear the voices of strange animals muffled by the distance and the loud chirping of huge cicadas. And also — music: wonderful shimmers and trembling echoes. He was sitting in a nearby chaise longue and slowly, lazily plucked the strings, strumming on… This is not a guitar, not a cello, or even a violin, but a fantastic contraption: a long trumpet with strings stretched around its circumference. The Viennese waltz was clearly audible in the playing, the one they had danced when they first met. The music stopped, and he put down the instrument and got to his feet. He took two coconut halves from a low table with miniature umbrellas and bamboo drinking tubes. Corinne smiled as she watched him approach, admiring his magnificent bearing, broad shoulders, and wonderful dimples. His hair is no longer combed back, but messy, but sweetly disheveled. He hadn’t had that stupid “commanding” haircut in a long time — the blond strands had almost reached his shoulders. He looked much more interesting in comical light shorts and a bright colourful shirt buttoned up with a single button than in a gray uniform. And a necklace of bright flowers suits him much more than a knight’s cross. “I promised you,” he said in the same whisper, and squatted down in front of Corinne. “You try this, you’ll like it.” He was holding out one of the coconut halves to her. Corinne touched the rough, fringed shell. She took a small sip. That’s what a “pina-colada” is, something sweet and, at the same time, with a pleasant fresh sourness. Finishing her drink, Corinne glanced at him and nodded, “It’s delicious.” He slowly took the empty half from her. His warm fingers touched the back of her hand, and Corinne shuddered. A pleasant shudder went through my whole body. He sat down next to her on the edge of the chaise longue — there was nothing between them. Corinne caught his breath and leaned forward to meet him. He pulled her to him, hugging her tightly around the waist. Corinne put her hands on his shoulders, feeling his muscles tighten. She wrapped her arms around his neck, digging her nails into his tanned skin, and impulsively pressed her lips to his thin lips. The kiss got deeper and hotter, and Corinne responded to him, enjoying every second of their intimacy. Finally, the prohibitions have disappeared, all this stupid “past” life has disappeared. And the real one began, where both are happy. “My general,” Corinne breathed, pulling away only to undo that one button and toss his shirt to the floor. She looked into his eyes: the stars were shining in them, even though the one on the left was made of glass. “I’m not a general anymore, and I never will be,” he was clearly pleased with that. “Finally, this madness is over.” “And you can get a good night’s sleep!” Corinne finished jokingly and laughed. He picked her up in his arms and spun her around.… But suddenly he stumbled. Corinne fell, hitting something hard and uneven. A hellish roar burst into my ears, and the roar flooded everything around me. A painful light shone into his eyes through his squeezed eyelids. The scents of flowers turned into stifling fumes, the stench of gasoline and the disgusting musty stench of blood and decay. “Get up, miss!” a gruff voice broke out of the din. There was a nudge in her side, and Corinne’s eyes flew open, but she immediately squeezed them shut. My ears were ringing wildly, and my head was tearing apart. Corinne felt a chill as she heard English speaking above her. For her, captivity is death. The ash in the air was spinning in gray flakes. The sun glimmered like an ominous ghostly spot in the gaps of clouds and dense smoke. Corinne is not in a chaise longue at all, she is sprawled at the bottom of the trench, covered in earth and blood, and her uniform has turned into rags. The shell landed fifty meters away — it was only by a miracle that Corinne was not torn to pieces. Right in front of her nose, a shredded corpse lay in thick splashes of drying blood. He is no more — almost a year has passed since his death. He took the last battle on the eastern front, and she ended up on the western front. Two stocky male silhouettes towered over Corinne. One of them had his fists on his sides, and the other was menacingly pointing his machine gun. The muzzle stared straight into her forehead — Corinne could almost feel the cold metal on her face. And the fear that was squeezing his throat with icy tentacles. The smoke and fear left her unable to breathe —Corinne coughed painfully, rubbing tears down her soot-black cheeks with her fists. My hand went to my pouches of its own accord — there are vials of cyanide there. You need to figure it out right away, without thinking, and then it won’t hurt, it will only be for a moment. But there were no pouches. And there was no gun — her entire belt had disappeared somewhere. Had those pigs already ransacked and robbed her? “Hurry up, miss!” The one who was aiming the automatic poked Corinne lightly in the side with the toe of a dirty boot. “Corporal Clancy will be very pleased to see you. And he will be incredibly glad to hear you!”