The deeper into the subsoil

What do you know about fear?

Maybe it's the trembling in front of the dentist's office?

Or the excitement during the exam?

A first date? A broken bottle in the store?  

Fear is when you stand on dry branches, look ahead and realize that it's over.

  The trampled path led far ahead, into the very darkness of the forest aspens. To where the trees stand more and more densely, until they begin to look like a family of five living in a one-room apartment. It's also cramped and uncomfortable. Without stopping, my feet led me forward to the cawing of crows overhead and the distant howl of wolves. The shining ball under the sky was already rolling behind the birch crowns.

  Having gone far enough into the thicket, when the sunlight finally stopped illuminating the barely noticeable path, I began to hear sounds. No rustling of leaves, no snorting of animals, no fluttering of bird wings. It was something else. It came from the trunks of trees, from under the lying stones. From a distance and near the ear. From everywhere and nowhere. The sound that you feel with all the atoms of your body. Something between a shaman singing and a rumbling train.

  My throat was dry from dizziness and increasing disorientation. I took a canteen from my belt, took off the lid, and began to absorb the water like a thirsty man in the desert. And only on the last sips did I feel the taste of swamp mud.…

  After 20 minutes, I realized that I had stopped hearing any sounds other than the mystical hum, and snow-white bones were no longer crunching under my feet. The right path was finally lost in the gloomy forest. The dense horror was embodied by a thin coyote. With his ribs sticking out, sitting humbly under an aspen tree and looking gloomily at me. He stood up and moved forward, beckoning for me to come with him. There is no turning back. I rushed after him. The coyote got lost among the birches, and reappeared behind the bushes. Visions began to sparkle in the darkness. It's a white mushroom with worms instead of a leg. It's an eel swimming out of a hollow. Either a boy with a dog's head running across the path, or the laughter of a girl chewing a rabbit and sitting under a bush. There's a car sinking into the ground, and there's a face watching me. I was chased by spirits until I found myself at the edge of a forest clearing.

  The moon covered the field with a white haze of light. Bright flowers sparkled in the grass. There are remains scattered all over the area. The raven's cry mingled with the singing of the depths. The trees lined up around the wall. The coyote was lying down. And he was dead, if I'm not lying, for five years. The sound that accompanied me half the way reached its peak. And he was standing in the middle of the clearing. A ragged cloak, crows on his shoulders, big claws and a white deer skull instead of a head. The skeleton trembled from his hum. The vibration under his feet was ready to tear the earth apart. He's whispering to the roots beneath me. He instills fear in the growing grass. He inhales the musty smell and exhales the dead flies. The deer that had given him his skull presented it as an offering. His eyes were empty, but there was a twinkle in them. In which my soul will burn.