[To the competition] «Travel»

Those who are inclined to despondency, this coastal town https://nonukcasinosites.co.uk/keno-casino-game/ could offer everything that the soul pleases. Fog, a dull noise from the steam installations in the production area and, of course, the wind, that every night, from somewhere from afar, from the hospital, brought the heart-rending cries of madmen.
In those days, he destroyed and died quietly, collapsing into the sea, Pierce. Once they held fairs … many tents, games, carousels and contests, here you could find entertainment for every taste, meet an elegant elf, juggling torches or even a bureau without a beard and in a skirt. But now all this is in the past. The attractions were dismantled, the people fled and only the empty skeletons of the shelves remained.
I knew that I could revive this place abandoned by all gods. I maintained a connection with many fair spells, circuscs and ordinary deceivers, I had a talent in creating new, hitherto unheard of entertainment and vast experience in working with finances.
But I’m not here for this, no. Enough of my work. After all these years, you understand: no matter how you try to come up with something exciting, interesting, whatever you did for the benefit of the team, you will not wait for gratitude. And if you have to make a mistake at least once, insults and ridicule will fly to your address right there.
No, it is better to find a quiet place and calmly live your age, hiding from the public. True … This thought becomes not so attractive when you wait for a night tram in an unknown city to get to your new house. Then there was still a hope for a quiet life in this region, but it was not for long.
That evening it was raining, the old tram, clanging and screeching, flew from one deserted stop to another, and there was nobody in it – only I shook on one of the back seats. Yes, in this old, rheumatic car there were only me and the counselor. This squat peasant – from my place it was impossible to say for sure the gnome or the hobbit – pulled the brass levers, released the brakes and, when required, released pair clubs.
And behind, in the aisle, someone else rode, it is not known when entering the car. Standing behind me, he swayed and swayed from side to side, as if he did not know where to sit down. But now I heard him sitting down, and realized that he sat down right behind me. I sensed his presence, how you smell the smell of an impending tide. Some part of me already understood what all this would lead to, but it seemed to me that it was still possible to avoid the ill-fated question that pursued me all these years.
I did not look back, because from experience I knew that it was worth looking at someone-and not to pass the conversation. Closing my eyes, I firmly decided not to turn around. But it did not help.
“Oh,” the stranger moaned.
I felt he leaned toward me in his seat. I felt a hot breath burning my neck. Resting my hands on my knees, I leaned forward.
“Oh,” he moaned even louder. So he could pray for help falling from a cliff.
– Oh!
The rain was already pouring with might and main, a large red tram, rummaging, rushed at night, and drops of water drummed along the windows, draining the glass. We sailed past the financial quarter, never seeing the city bank, and moved on, – the clumsy car rumbled, the floor under our feet creaked, empty seats rattled, a signal whistle screeched.
And my neck was covered with goosebumps when the invisible man sitting behind shouted:
– Where!
The whistle was drowned out by his voice, and he had to repeat:
– Where…
And again a whistle screeched.
– Where, – came a voice behind me and immediately fell silent.
I thought – he will cry now. I looked forward at the jet dancing in the rays of the light flying towards.
The tram slowed down. Sitting jumped up behind: he was furious that he was not listening, it seemed he was ready to poke me in the side if I would not at least turn around. He longed to see him. He was eager to bring down on me what was pestering. I knew he would say now. But was not at all ready for this. Therefore, he clung tightly into the back of the chair in front of me.
“Where …” his voice roared.
Tram, rattling, slowed down and stopped.
“Come on,” I thought, “agree!»
– Where is the Japanese report? – He finished with a terrible whisper and moved away.
I heard the back door opened. And then he turned around.
The car was empty. The stranger disappeared, taking with him his funeral speeches. It was audible how gravel crumbles on the road. Invisible in the dark man muttered under his breath, but the doors slammed shut with a bang. Through the window, his voice still came to me, something about hidden agents. Or maybe the agents. About debts. And about me.
The tram jerked, and, clanging, rushed further through the bad weather, past high grass in the meadows. I picked up the window and leaned out, peering into the rainy darkness behind. And I could not say what was left there-a city full of people waiting for something, or only one person full of despair.

Fanfica – lazy alteration of the entry to the novel “Death is a lonely matter” by Ray Bradbury. I really love this scene. I don’t think I can win in the competition, but maybe at least someone will like it.