TATYANA TOLSTOYA
Serafim
"Go
away! Go awaaay, you lousy beast!"
Someone's dog, white, matted, disgusting, not only jumped into the
elevator after Serafim, whimpered, its paws pacing the dim, clunking box
racing up toward the sixteenth floor, but dared to rush to the apart–
ment, scratching insistently at the padding of the door while Serafim
struggled with the keys on the landing.
"Get out of here!"
Serafim was squeamish about nudging the warm brute with his clean
foot. The dog was possessed by a frightful impatience: it drummed at the
door, quickly wedged its nose to the crack and snuffed the air, drummed
again, insisted, would not be dissuaded.
Serafim stamped his foot and yelled - useless. H e tried to trick the
animal by swiftly pushing his way into the apartment, but, shuddering
and wriggling like a furry snake, the filthy cur slithered in with hideous
speed, rubbing against Serafim's legs in the process, and ran around the
dark room, its claws clicking. Serafim squealed, grabbed a mop, overtook
the dog, struck it, struck it again, kicked it out, slammed the door, and
with a pounding heart collapsed against the frame. The fiend of hell
quietly fluttered about on the landing, circling and rustling. It left.
His legs could still feel the revolting sensation of dog flesh slinking
by.
He felt nauseated.
Serafim lay against the door, calming himself down . Better now?
Almost.
Leave me alone. What do you all want from me? I don't want any–
one. I am separate. Higher. I descended from the starry fields to this filth ,
and when I've completed my earthly circle, I'll go back to where I came
from. Don't touch me.
Serafim took off his coat, drank a glass of cold, clean water, lit two
candles, sat down in front of the mirror and took a look at himself.
Handsome. He narrowed his eyes appraisingly, threw back his head, ob–
served from the side - excellent! That's me . Uncommonly fine! That's -
me! Mind your own business, all of you. He remembered the dog. Dis–
gusting beast. He jumped up in horror and glanced at his trousers - just
Editor's note: From the forthcoming book
Sleepwalker in a Fog
by Tatyana Tolstaya.
Translated by Jamey Gambrell. Translation copyright
©
199 1 by Jamey Gambrell. To be
published by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.
