Nobody’s House

Henry Lion Oldie

Nobody’s House

* * *

“There's a house with no door and I'm living there

At nights it gets so cold and the days are hard to bear inside.

There’s a house with no roof, so the rain creeps in,

Falling through my head as I try to think out time…”

Peter Hammill (Van Der Graaf Generator), "House with No Door", 1970

Interesting, who was it that thought of putting down the ties so wrong: either too close or too far away from one another, or sometimes just randomly – what I’m saying is, it’s absolutely impossible to walk on them. Or do they do it purposely, so that no one would walk on them? But people are doing it anyway.

The sand on the embankment was wet and firmly packed, hundreds of times more comfortable than these idiotic ties. Little by little, everybody followed my example and started walking near the rails.

“So, have we got much left to go?” asked Oleg.

“Yes, we have,” answered Andrei indifferently. He was the only one who knew the way.

There was silence. The sand was creaking rhythmically under the sneakers.

“Don’t get down from the embankment, there’s a swamp down there.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“So what? You’ll forget it anyway…”

There began a light, nasty rain. The girls, as if on command, opened up colourful umbrellas. I was too lazy to take out mine, so I simply put on my cap. Gleb, after some pondering, followed my example. Oleg and Andrei continued walking, paying no attention to the cold drops. The area around was gloomily hummocky, overgrown with waste vegetation, some rusty carriages were rotting in the ditch, and the glistening rails continued to the distance and hid there beyond the vague mist of the rain. Stalkers of local importance… Yeah, right, went on a trip. The area and the weather just fit.

“Hell of a guide,” muttered Oleg while lifting up his bag, which was trying continually to slide down to his buttocks. “God damn you, if we don’t find anything there – and we won’t, – you’ll be staying to rot in this swamp here, singing about how you like to be in the Octopus’ Garden for the rest of your life.”

“There, that’s the way down from the embankment,” said Andrei suddenly, interrupting the intended flow of Oleg’s wit. “There’s supposed to be a broken barrier there and a path. Let’s go.”

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