Рисуем карты на флеше символами UNICODE

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Four knives

When I was younger, I used to spend plenty of time with a friend of mine, Brick. We called him at this way mostly because he became rather angry every time when he heard it, and partly because his face was not properly rounded. But when we were teenagers, I went to church school, and he went to prison – he hijacked someone and broke their ribs. A few years later I was a priest assistant and he was under arrest again – he tried to kill a police officer who tried to arrest him for drinking. That was the last time I saw him before he came to my church.

At the meaning time I was a priest, and I had to listen to people’s confessions that day. He couldn’t see me, because there was a black curtain between us, and certainly he didn’t know I was there – my church was rather far from our home town. I didn’t know how did he get here and why did he want to be right here – this could be a joke of Fate, you know. He told me he had sinned a lot, and he escaped from prison with a friend of him. They had to break into people’s houses for food, money and clothes. His friend was killed by a man, the owner of a house, while Brick was nearby stealing kitchen utensils, and he ran away. The police was on his tail since they escaped prison, he said, and he didn’t want to live anymore. He asked for absolution, but I felt he hadn’t repented of everything he had done. I told him to come here every day during a week, and pray for two hours in the morning. He didn’t seem happy with this decision but he said he will come. And he didn’t, because the next morning I found his body laying on the ground near Tall bridge with a knife in his heart. Читать далее Four knives