The book you are holding, My Posthumous Adventures, is an attempt to convey the good news to the reader that we were not created to die. The fact that our life has a meaning, and all the people who have ever lived on our land have not disappeared without a trace. That we, too, "will not die by death," because for a person, death is not destruction, but a transition to another life, life after death.

There are many ways and techniques to appeal to the human soul, to call it to comprehend its further destiny. Fiction has always been one of the first in terms of impact. A book can have a huge impact on thoughts and feelings, the heroes of your favorite books are imprinted in the hearts for a long time.

"My Posthumous Adventures" is an attempt to captivate us with reflections on the brevity of human memory and the scarcity of our knowledge of the secrets of the soul. In terms of genre and style, it is perhaps the closest to the wonderful, kind Christian books of KS Lewis "Divorce", "Balamut's Letters", or to the books of our contemporary writer Nikolai Blokhin "Deep Mire", "Grandmother's Glass". The genre of these books can be designated as "Christian fantasy", but only conditionally, because what they tell is not a fiction, but a symbolic story about spiritual reality.

Miracles and amazing events taking place with the main heroine of the book are woven from real episodes that took place in the life of the author of "My Posthumous Adventures" and her loved ones. Julia Voznesenskaya resorts to artistic images, metaphors, comparisons, trying to convey the feelings of the soul that meets God. The fate of the heroine of Anna's book is an unpretentious invention of the author, and an attempt, in the form of a fantastic parable, to tell the reader about our posthumous life, the knowledge of which is kept by the patristic experience and the Tradition of the Orthodox Church.

"My Posthumous Adventures" urge each of us to think about the significance and purpose of earthly life, to realize the responsibility for every thought and deed, to evaluate our life according to our conscience and in the light of the commandments of the Lord.

MY POSTMORTAL ADVENTURES

You are given to know the secrets

The kingdom of God,

and the rest in parables.

Lord bless!

Chapter 1

My posthumous adventures began with the fact that I fell from the fourth floor and crashed.

The police, as I later found out, had two versions - just suicide and murder disguised as suicide.

Both versions had nothing to do with reality, and even as hypothetical they did not cost much, since they were based solely on the testimony of my emigrant friends. The version of suicide was as simple as a woman’s romance, and in a nutshell it boiled down to the fact that my husband left me, and in response I threw myself from the balcony. If I really reacted this way to George's betrayal, there would not be enough balconies in our entire apartment building.

The second version - murder disguised as suicide - did not fit for the simple reason that George was not suitable for the role of a murderer: like almost all fornicators and favorites of women, he was, in essence, an adult child, capriciously seeking admiration and affection, weak and a little hysterical, but essentially helpless and kind. He avoided the dangers in his life, avoided obstacles and never went to extremes.

Everything was much simpler. Our cat Watermelon loved to go to the toilet in nature, and as such he was served by my boxes of flowers, suspended from the balcony grate - above and below. As soon as the balcony door was left open for exactly a minute, he immediately crept into the luxurious thickets of petunias and shit there with delight. And that would be half the trouble: but, having created indecency and sensing retribution, the vile defiler of innocent flowers cowardly tried to hide the traces of the crime, while clods of earth and reviled branches of petunias flew in different directions.

No educational measures, including hitting the head with the "Russian Thought" folded in four, could not cure the cat of its beloved vice.

On that ill-fated morning, I went out to the balcony several times so as not to miss the taxi ordered in the evening, and simply forgot to close the balcony door behind me for the last time. The prodigal husband grabbed a travel bag with foreign gifts for his, of course, unknown to me, Moscow girlfriend and went to the elevator, and I walked him out the door with the usual parting words: do not try to come back and don’t forget to put on a warm sweater before boarding - in Moscow, according to the forecast, it will be cold and rain. He also habitually threw that everything would be fine, he would put on a sweater and call when to meet him. After that, I went to the bedroom, cried a little and fell asleep, as I had an almost continuous night of clarification behind me.

The heart-rending meowing of Watermelon woke me up. I jumped out of bed and rushed to the balcony, from where his cries for help were flying.

The oohing cat, using the open door and the silence in the house, this time got to the bottom drawer, did his dirty deed there, but he could not get out: a fat stomach, for which, in combination with striping, he was nicknamed Watermelon, did not give him to crawl between the bars of the lattice, and spreading petunias interfered with climbing over the top. I leaned over the railing and grabbed the cat by the scruff, and he was so scared that, to be sure, he twisted and grabbed my hand with all twenty claws. I jerked in pain and, trying to grab him with my other hand, leaned too much over the railing: my legs almost came off the floor, and the frightened Watermelon, such rubbish, did not lose his head at this decisive moment and jumped over my shoulders and back up and this saved his striped hide, he pushed me down. I finally lost my balance and flew from the fourth floor upside down. I hasten to reassure the zealots of the welfare of pets: after I was taken to the hospital in an ambulance with howls, and the police broke into the apartment, our neighbor Frau Hoffmann took care of the poor orphaned cat, and he was doing well with her.

It was bad for her geraniums.

The lilac bush, which I, fortunately, fell into, was old and spreading - maybe this softened the blow slightly. After all, I did not break soft-boiled, but only broke half of the bones and smashed my head under a nut.

When I woke up in the intensive care ward and in the mirrored ceiling above me I saw my mortal remains, surrounded by doctors, I once again admired the success of German medicine: a whole team of doctors treated my unfortunate members! Some of them attached broken ribs back into the chest, sticking out of it like springs from an old canapé, others screwed some screws and tongues into the crumbled bones of my legs, others dug into the open abdomen and sewed something there, and I watched everything that happened in the mirror above me and felt neither pain nor fear - only complete and absolute peace.

I looked at the reflection of my face as it appeared between the green tops of the doctors bending over me: I wanted to see how my appearance corresponded to this medicinal bliss - and then it all really started. I saw my face, but it was the face of a corpse: white to blueness, a pointed nose, blue lips stuck to my teeth, between which a transparent tube was sticking out, and something in it was hissing and bubbling. I felt disgust for myself - I was always frightened by the faces of the dead, and then my own ... But the worst thing was that my eyes were closed - so how can I see all this ?!

With fright, I jerked to the side and ... found myself hanging between two lamps on the ceiling. And in an instant everything turned upside down: there was no mirror above me - it was I myself who was above and looked from there at my own body stretched below. I was not scared, because the thought of death had not yet visited me, but I experienced a slight disappointment: it turns out that German medicine has nothing to do with it, and for getting rid of pain I have to thank nature and some of my own defense mechanisms. Well, now everything is clear: this is a dream, this is nonsense, I am flying in a dream. Then why not fly somewhere more pleasant? So I thought and immediately realized my intention, flying out through the door opened by someone into the hospital corridor.

Finding myself under the ceiling of the corridor - for some reason I was being pulled up all the time - I found that a rather thick glowing cord was stretching from me through the door of the intensive care unit. I thought that I had accidentally dragged some hose from the resuscitation equipment behind me.

I wonder how I actually look?

I tried to look at myself, and although I clearly had eyesight, and even more keen-sighted than in reality, and I did not feel my eyes, but I had only to wish, and I saw myself from the side: it was old, but only translucent, something like a balloon in the shape of my body. The comparison that came to mind was further emphasized by this cord coming out of the middle of my chest, by the way, in this form, which did not have protruding ribs or any other damage. On the contrary, I felt absolutely healthy and full of vigor.

There was a large window at the far end of the corridor, and I decided to fly to it. It was a pleasure to hover under the ceiling, but I could not fly further than the middle of the corridor: the cord to which I was tied was taut, and I felt a burning pain in my chest when I tried to pull it away from me.

I had to submit and turn in the opposite direction.

Current page: 1 (the book has 11 pages in total) [available passage for reading: 8 pages]

Julia Voznesenskaya
My posthumous adventures

© LLC "Grif", design, 2014

© LLC "Publishing house" Lepta Kniga ", text, illustrations, 2014

© Voznesenskaya Yu.N., 2014

© Tymoshenko Y., 2014

* * *

It is given to you to know the secrets of the Kingdom of God, and to others - in parables.

Lord bless!

Chapter 1

My posthumous adventures began with the fact that I fell from the fourth floor and crashed.

The police, as I later found out, had two versions - just suicide and murder disguised as suicide. Both versions had nothing to do with reality, and even as hypothetical they did not cost much, since they were based solely on the testimony of my emigrant friends. The version of suicide was as simple as a woman's romance, and in a nutshell it boiled down to the fact that my husband left me, and in response I threw myself from the balcony. If I really reacted this way to George's betrayals, there would not be enough balconies in our entire apartment building.

The second version - murder disguised as suicide - did not fit for the simple reason that George was not suitable for the role of a murderer: like almost all fornicators and favorites of women, he was, in essence, an adult child, capriciously seeking admiration and affection, weak and a little hysterical, but essentially helpless and kind. He avoided the dangers in his life, avoided obstacles and never went to extremes.

It was much easier. Our cat Watermelon loved to go to the toilet in nature, and as such he was served by my boxes of flowers, suspended from the balcony lattice - above and below. As soon as the balcony door was left open for exactly a minute, he immediately crept into the luxurious thickets of petunias and shit there with delight. And that would be half the trouble: but, having created indecency and sensing retribution, the vile defiler of innocent flowers cowardly tried to hide the traces of the crime, while clods of earth and reviled branches of petunias flew in different directions. No educational measures, including hitting the head with the four-fold "Russian Thought", could not cure the cat of its beloved vice.

On that ill-fated morning, I went out to the balcony several times so as not to miss the taxi ordered in the evening, and simply forgot to close the balcony door behind me for the last time. The prodigal husband grabbed a travel bag with foreign gifts for his, of course, unknown to me, Moscow girlfriend and went to the elevator, and I walked him out the door with the usual parting words: do not try to come back and don’t forget to put on a warm sweater before boarding - in Moscow, according to the forecast, it will be cold and rain. He also habitually threw that everything would be fine, he would put on a sweater and call when he met him. After that, I went to the bedroom, cried a little and fell asleep, as I had an almost continuous night of clarification behind me.

The heart-rending meowing of Watermelon woke me up. I jumped out of bed and rushed to the balcony, from where his cries for help were flying. The oozing cat, using the open door and the silence in the house, this time got to the bottom drawer, did his dirty deed there, but he could not get out: a fat stomach, for which, in combination with striping, he was nicknamed Watermelon, did not give him to crawl between the bars of the lattice, and spreading petunias interfered with climbing over the top. I leaned over the railing and grabbed the cat by the scruff, and he was so frightened that, to be sure, he twisted and grabbed my hand with all twenty claws. I jerked in pain and, trying to grab him with my other hand, leaned too much over the railing: my legs almost came off the floor, and the frightened Watermelon, such rubbish, at this decisive moment did not get confused and jumped over my shoulders and back up and this saved his striped hide, he pushed me down. I finally lost my balance and flew from the fourth floor upside down. I hasten to reassure the zealots for the welfare of pets: after I was taken to the hospital in an ambulance with howls and the police broke into the apartment, our neighbor Frau Hoffmann took care of the poor orphaned cat, and he was doing well with her. It was bad for her geraniums.

The lilac bush, which I, fortunately, fell into, was old and spreading - maybe this softened the blow slightly. After all, I did not break soft-boiled, but only broke half of the bones and smashed my head under a nut.

When I woke up in the intensive care ward and in the mirrored ceiling above me I saw my mortal remains, surrounded by doctors, I once again admired the success of German medicine: a whole team of doctors treated my unfortunate members! Some of them attached broken ribs back into the chest, sticking out of it like springs from an old canapé, others screwed some screws and tongues into the crumbled bones of my legs, others dug into the open abdomen and sewed something there, and I watched everything that happened in the mirror above me and felt neither pain nor fear - only complete and absolute peace.

I looked at the reflection of my face as it appeared between the green tops of the doctors bending over me: I wanted to see how my appearance corresponded to this medicinal bliss - and then it all really started. I saw my face, but it was the face of a corpse: white to blueness, a pointed nose, blue lips stuck to my teeth, between which a transparent tube was sticking out, and something in it was hissing and bubbling. I felt disgust for myself - I was always frightened by the faces of the dead, and then my own ... But the worst thing was that my eyes were closed - so how can I see all this ?!

With fright, I jerked to the side and ... found myself hanging between two lamps on the ceiling. And in an instant everything turned upside down: there was no mirror above me - it was I myself who was above and looked from there at my own body stretched below. I was not scared, because the thought of death had not yet visited me, but I experienced a slight disappointment: it turns out that German medicine has nothing to do with it, and for getting rid of pain I have to thank nature and some of my own defense mechanisms. Well, now everything is clear: this is a dream, this is nonsense, I am flying in a dream. Then why not fly somewhere more pleasant? So I thought and immediately realized my intention, flying out through the door opened by someone into the hospital corridor.

Finding myself under the ceiling of the corridor - for some reason I was being pulled up all the time - I found that a rather thick glowing cord was stretching from me through the door of the intensive care unit. I thought that I had accidentally dragged some hose from the resuscitation equipment behind me.

I wonder how I actually look? I tried to look at myself, and although I clearly had eyesight, and even more keen-sighted than in reality, and I did not feel my eyes, but I had only to wish, and I saw myself from the side: it was me, but only translucent, what- something like a balloon in the shape of my body. The comparison that came to mind was further emphasized by this cord coming out of the middle of my chest, by the way, in this form, which did not have protruding ribs or any other damage. On the contrary, I felt absolutely healthy and full of vigor.

There was a large window at the far end of the corridor, and I decided to fly to it. It was a pleasure to hover under the ceiling, but I could not fly farther than the middle of the corridor: the cord to which I was tied was taut, and I felt a burning pain in my chest when I tried to pull it away from me. I had to submit and turn in the opposite direction.

I flew past the intensive care unit and turned the corner of the corridor. There was a visitor's corner: a coffee table, a sofa and two armchairs. In one of them my friend Natasha was sitting and talking to someone on her cell phone, shedding profuse tears and greedily smoking a cigarette. Of course, the conversation was about me:

- The doctors said that there is practically no hope. Poor Anka! I always knew that this marriage would end in disaster! ..

- Natasha, stop talking, treat it better to a cigarette! - I shouted cheerfully from the ceiling. Without paying any attention to me, she continued the conversation. I sank lower, waved my hand in front of her nose, then touched her shoulder - and my hand went through him, like a sunbeam through water. Very surprised, I gave up my attempts and began to listen to Natasha's chatter.

- Well, of course, she is in intensive care and no one is allowed to see her. She's unconscious. George is not here, nobody knows where he is. Apparently, he disappeared, scoundrel. The police found me using her notebook, I told everything about their family life, and now they are looking for him as a possible murderer. And I believe that he is a murderer even if Anna committed suicide herself, I'll tell you what, my dear ...

I got bored and disgusted - and this is my best friend! Sitting here for a couple of hours, judging by the number of lipstick butts in the ashtray, sobbing for me, but still gossiping. I took it and flew away.

I felt sick. Hanging under the ceiling was already bored, I was tired of this dream, but I did not know how to wake up from it. An unprecedented acute feeling of loneliness seized me. I decided to return to the intensive care unit, closer to my body, and I did it without difficulty.

There were no doctors in the ward anymore, only the nurse on duty was sitting at a table in the corner. My body lay very calmly, my chest evenly rose and fell, but looking at the wires and tubes that entangled me, I realized that life in this body only glimmers thanks to medical equipment. The glowing cord connected me with my motionless body below, and then it only dawned on me: this is not a dream or delirium, this is all happening in reality.

It became clear to me that, in fact, I had died, an artificial life was maintained in my body, and my soul, that is, my precious I, had already left it, and only this luminous thread still connects me with it. And I felt so sorry for Anna lying there below, helpless, tied with bandages and studded with needles and pipes! But I could not help myself, and again I wanted to be away from myself, and again I flew into the hospital corridor to feel even more acutely the utter loneliness that gripped me.

They appeared at the far end of the corridor, where there was a window. At first I heard their voices, very strange voices: it was as if a group of adults were conferring about something very important in squeaky children's voices. I looked in that direction and at first saw only dark silhouettes against the background of the window, low, no more than a meter, squat and humped. They moved in my direction and were under the light of the corridor lamps, and then I saw them and immediately decided: aliens! 1
Fr. Seraphim Rose, in the book "Soul after death", discusses in detail posthumous experiences in which our contemporaries saw exactly aliens, "luminous creatures", etc. O. Seraphim explains that "the reason is that the dying ... Christians of the past centuries who had living water<веры>, they feared hell, and whose conscience ultimately denounced them, they often saw demons before death,<…>modern "enlightened" people see what is consistent with their comfortable life and beliefs that exclude the fear of hell and belief in demons. In fact, the demons themselves offer temptations that match the spiritual state or expectations of the dying. " (Quoted from: O. Seraphim (Rose)... Soul after death. SPb., 1994, p. 44.) - Hereinafter, Editor's Notes.

Whether I believed or did not believe in UFOs before this meeting, I don’t know, rather, I just didn’t think much about it, but information on this topic has accumulated in my head, settled down decently, like any modern reader and viewer. In any case, these creatures did not arouse fear in me, but rather curiosity, slightly tinged with anxiety. If we admit that such meetings happen, then why shouldn't this happen to me one day?

The naked, stocky bodies of the aliens were covered with rather unpleasant-looking gray-pink folded skin, large heads sat deep in the shoulders, and in front passed into elongated faces, which would be more accurately defined by the word "snout". At first glance, they resembled some kind of exotic animals, something like a cross between pigs and wolves, but in the large round eyes, surrounded by dark folds of skin and devoid of eyelashes, a sharp intellect definitely sparkled.

The aliens stood under me and continued to confer, muttering something in their shrill, hoarse tongue, which did not even remotely resemble any of the earthly languages ​​I had heard. It was clearly about me, since they not only looked in my direction, but also pointed at me with their upper limbs, similar to children's hands in carnival wolf gloves with claws, rather, I must say, frightening in appearance. Feeling some disgust, I sternly reined myself: but, but, only without cosmic racism, please! I don’t know how I myself look in their eyes, but in the eyes of a human I am now, presumably, more like a humanoid jellyfish than a well-preserved female in its forties.

One of the aliens, who was head and shoulders above the others, took a step forward and spoke to me in Russian, pronouncing the words mechanically, like a robot:

- We came for you. You must come with us immediately.

I was silent, not knowing what to answer. He, too, was silent, then said without any expression:

- We are very glad to meet you. We are full of friendliness.

Very nice! First, an order to go with them no one knows where, and only then a greeting. I decided to show independence:

- Until I find out who you are and where you invite me, I will not move. Besides, I am attached to him. Out of place, but to my body.

Their reaction struck me as somewhat aggressive: they understood me, but they did not like my words, which was expressed by harsh squeals. They conferred, then the elder began to give explanations:

- We came for you from a distant planet. The time has come for you to leave Earth. You will not regret it. The connection with the body must be broken. You have to do it. Itself and now. Now and here. Do it and you will fly with us. Die and free yourself!

How, scattered! Even on such an astral suicide, I will not voluntarily go. How can you break the connection with my poor, such a familiar, such dear body, leave it in suffering, betray it, helpless and voiceless! No, we endured so much together, we will tolerate more. Well, and there it will be seen ...

- And who are you, in fact, to decide for me when it's time for me to die? And what is this planet, where did you come from?

The head of the aliens brought down on me a cascade of some astronomical terms, in which I had no ear or snout, bombarded me with names, from which I recognized only from childhood stuck in the brain of Alpha Eridani, the promised planet of Soviet science fiction writers. However, I thought, I shouldn't be ironing: it may well be that the inhabitants of Alpha themselves inspired our science fiction writers with the name of their planet.

All these thoughts somehow very clearly, quickly, almost simultaneously flashed in my mind, which was unusual: I had long forgotten how to think in a young way about several things at once, without losing the clarity of thinking.

“We understand your doubts and anxiety,” the alien continued meanwhile, “but you shouldn't believe your words. Now you will see everything with your own eyes, - and he waved his clawed paw towards the window.

A hospital window made of solid glass first flashed with green light, then waves went over it, like on a damaged TV screen, and then an unearthly landscape of amazing clarity and brightness appeared on this window-screen, first one, then another, third ... There were many and many : vegetation of all colors of the rainbow against a green sky with a blue sun, purple forests and pink oceans, some flying animals with aliens on their winged backs, slender and fragile-looking buildings that look more like temples than houses. But you will not surprise a modern person with star landscapes: illustrators of science fiction and fantasy, filmmakers and "space artists" have not done such a thing yet.

Pictures floated in the window, replacing one another, and then everything stopped on a lovely landscape with a white villa on a golden hill, with a staircase sloping gently down to a pink pond, along which some emerald waterfowl with crowns on graceful heads slid imposingly. So what? If I can now fly wherever I want for free and without visa, then I will, of course, not fly to some unknown planet to admire green swans, but to Australia, for example, or to Bermuda. But first I fly to Moscow and see what my beloved is doing there. I wonder how he will take the news of my death?

“If you come with us, you can live in this house,” the alien said.

- Why should I? For people I am now invisible and inaudible - what prevents me from settling even in the Faceted Chamber of the Kremlin? I think that the housing problem does not threaten me.

The aliens squealed menacingly, but the elder stopped them with a gesture and declared in the most serious way:

- The Palace of Facets is already occupied by other souls, from those who are not given to ascend to the Great Heaven.

- Why did your Great Heaven surrender to me? My Little Earth will be fine with me.

- It's humor. We do not understand it, but we accept it as proof of your fearlessness. You are not afraid of us. It's good.

In vain he said that. I immediately realized that I was afraid, very afraid, for a long time I had not been afraid of anyone or anything. But the old dissident instincts began to speak in me: the best way to protect yourself from fear is to laugh at those you are afraid of. I decided to be on the lookout. In the past, the KGB officers could destroy first of all well-being, then life and body, and last but not least, mind and soul. Here the conversation was immediately about the soul, after all, I had nothing left ...

- Peace awaits you there, it is very beautiful there!

- Sounds tempting. And what else?

- Here you can meet and talk with great minds, with the heroes of human history.

- Is it spiritualism, perhaps? I was never particularly interested, you know ...

- Here you will meet those whom you loved on earth and who left it before you. Remember them!

It was a hard blow. I lost my mother and father in recent years, and my only brother, Alyosha, my twin, died in childhood from scarlet fever. He and I were very close, and I often thought about how we would be friends with him in our mature years.

As soon as I thought about my dear dead, as if they were just waiting for this, they appeared in the frame: the three of them left the doors of the white villa and stopped at the top of the stairs - mom, father and Alyosha. How young my mother was - younger than I am now! My father looked a little older, but he died only five years ago. But Alyoshenka was exactly what I remember, he was even dressed in the same gray school suit in which we buried him. Alyosha ran down the stairs, waving invitingly at me and laughing happily, and mom and dad ...

It was then that they pierced. In this touching shot, mother and father stood at the top of the stairs, affectionately embracing each other by the shoulders, and also smiled lovingly and invitingly - but this could not be even in your Big Heaven! The fact is that after the death of Alyosha, my old men did not think of anything better out of grief than to blame each other for his death. The matter reached such an ardent hatred that both the old love and the very memory of Alyosha were completely dissolved in it; at rare meetings, they remembered him only in order to hurt each other more painfully. I rushed between them, tormented by love for both, but could not reconcile them. Even on dates at the camp, where I ended up for samizdat, they always came separately. They even accompanied me to emigration one by one: I spent the last evening with my father, then I went to my mother, and we talked with her almost all night. In the morning Georgy arrived by taxi and took us to the airport.

- But you must!

- How can I owe you something, when until the last hour I did not even suspect of your existence?

- Everyone will know about us in their last hour!

- But this still needs to be checked whether my last hour has really come! - I shouted boldly and rushed to the only shelter available to me - to the intensive care unit, and rushed with all my might.

And she did a great stupidity: I should, having escaped from these suspicious aliens, slowly and smoothly move into the room, and then nothing would have happened. I would swing over my mortal body like a balloon, and there, you see, the aliens would go back to their Alpha, and I would continue my ephemeral existence in quiet hospital corridors until better times. But hurrying with fright, I literally fell into my sprawled body and suddenly found myself in complete darkness and deafness. A terrible, completely unbearable pain seized me, and each heavy beat of my heart intensified and intensified this pain. I screamed and struggled to get out of this repository of pain - and I succeeded. It even succeeded too much: from a sharp jerk, the thread connecting me to the body broke off, and I flew like a bullet into the same corridor where the aliens were just waiting for me.

They did not grab me at once, but stretched out their terrible paws to me, and at a distance I felt the freezing cold flowing from them. This cold bound me so that I could neither move nor shout. And they approached me, squealing gleefully and rubbing their vile limbs. Here the elder stretched out his paw, touched my chest ... And with a heart-rending squeal he jumped aside, shaking his hand. It became a little easier for me, and I was able to shout: “Save me! Someone save me! "

- No one will save you from us! The elder squealed angrily. - Your disgusting talisman will still be removed from you when they are buried, and then you will be ours!

- No one will save you! No one! - shouted other aliens.

- Well, no one! - a loud and calm male voice sounded behind me. I looked around, and the joy of hope flashed in me.

A tall gentleman with a beautiful face, who appeared out of nowhere behind my back, took several leisurely wide steps and stood between me and the aliens. This was not a doctor or a visitor, because he was dressed very strangely: he had high shiny boots on his feet, a black and red cloak, and from under him peeped out the gold embroidery of some kind of medieval costume.

“She called for help, and I came to help her. All out of here. This woman is mine.

The aliens retreated to the wall, nudging each other and squealing pitifully.

- I said get out.

He did not make a single movement or even raised his voice, but such imperiousness sounded in him that the vile creatures suddenly grappled with a squeal into a ball, which rolled to the window, jumped, seeped through the glass and melted into a gray cloudy sky. The cold and terror that bound me disappeared without a trace.

“Look into my eyes, my child,” said the beautiful stranger affectionately. His eyes shone with wisdom and understanding, and tenderness shone in them, he wanted to look and look.

- Did they scare you very much? He asked quietly.

- Yes. They wanted to lure me to some alien planet, where my deceased relatives were waiting for me. They even showed them to me, but it was a hoax!

“Of course, deception, fake,” the beautiful stranger confirmed. “They are great masters of deception. Do you know who I am?

- I see that you are kind to me, but who you are, I do not know. I am so scared, so lonely, this whole situation that I got into is so strange and incomprehensible - do not leave me alone, please!

“I won't leave,” he nodded. - Do you have any idea what happened to you?

- Yes, I understand that I have died. But my body lies there, on the table, - I waved my transparent hand towards the intensive care unit, - but for some reason I am here, and what should I do next, I do not know.

- All this is not at all as scary as it seems at first. You have already understood that there is no death. You got out of the rotten human shell ...

- But why "rotten"? I'm not that old ...

“They don’t argue with me, baby. I repeat, you left your fragile, thoroughly sick, and now mechanically damaged flesh to join the perfect world of spirits. Now opportunities are opening up before you that you did not even know about during your life. Stupid priest's tales about Paradise do not convey even a shadow of the splendor of those worlds that you will see. We will go to my kingdom, beautiful, carefree, sparkling with fun. There you will know joys and pleasures that are inaccessible to bodily creatures. I generously share my kingdom with everyone who loves me and whom I love. But I do not take everyone to me, but only my chosen ones.

- So I ...

- Yes. Since your birth, you have been marked by me. I followed your development with love and anxiety, took care of you, although you could not notice it. It was I who helped you cultivate your most beautiful qualities - pride and self-esteem, independence of judgment and non-recognition of authorities. I admired how boldly you broke any framework, if they were imposed on you from the outside, I pushed you to accomplish your most daring deeds. It was I who did not let you sour in the warmth of the philistine swamp; it was I who saved you when your soul was in danger of succumbing to that Power that broke and humbled more than one proud human soul.

- Are you talking about the Soviet totalitarian regime?

- No, I'm talking about cosmic totalitarianism. Fortunately, you have escaped its harmful effects, which means that you are mine! You are one of the many, many millions of my beloved daughters, there are many of you, but I love you all equally.

- So who are you, tell me at last! What is your name?

“You can just call me“ father ”.

- Father ...

- Yes. Give me a hand. Come with me and you will never be alone again. You will have many brothers and sisters, strong, independent, proud. Most of those who have lived on Earth now live in the spheres under my control. Well, now you have guessed who I am, my child?

Then it dawned on me, and I exclaimed joyfully:

- I know! You are Jesus Christ!

His beautiful face twisted, he recoiled, as if from a blow, raised his hand from the edge of his cloak and covered himself with it. I felt embarrassed - I realized that I had not said at all what he expected from me. And I was also scared that now he would leave, and I would be left alone. But he was silent for a little, and then opened his face again and said with mild reproach:

“Never use that name in front of me again. Of course, I'm not that funny character from old church legends. I am the only true Ruler of the human world, it has been and is since the very appearance of man on Earth. But I am also the future ruler of the WHOLE world! Already now I own the most beautiful corners of it, and soon everything will belong!

Now he spoke with an almost theatrical passion, and this slightly alarmed me: I never liked pathos during my life, but it turned out that I did not tolerate it well after death. The look of my beautiful stranger began to give off a kind of theatrical mothballs. Well, yes, he saved me from crafty aliens, thanks to him for that. But isn't he himself one of them? Why would they obey him so unquestioningly, just like the sixes to the godfather? They completely confused me, Lord have mercy ...

He shuddered. Somehow, bewildered, he fell silent. Then he roused himself and continued with the same pathos:

- So give me your hand, my child, and let's go to my wide and open world! Only first take off this metal, which for some reason you wore during your life, however, without attaching special importance to it - and this is good. But his shadow remained on your soul. Take it off!

- How can I do this, because on me there is only the shadow of my cross, and he himself remained on my body there, in the ward ...

- Well, this is done very simply, it is enough to say: “I renounce my cross and take it off myself,” and he, staring at me with a hypnotizing look, waited for me to follow his order. He didn’t know that this cross for me was not a talisman and not a fashionable decoration at all ...

My mother gave me a small gold cross when she accompanied me to emigration. She put it on me with the words: “I got this cross from your grandfather, I wore it in my childhood, when I still believed in God. Then he lay in a jewelry box, and when you were a little seriously ill and the doctors refused you, a believing neighbor offered to take you to church and baptize you. Then I remembered about him, found it and gave it to her: they baptized you with him. So the cross is not simple, wear it in memory of your grandfather, whom you do not remember, and of me. Who knows, maybe he will save you in a foreign land, because once he helped you - after baptism you immediately started to recover. " I wore it without taking it off.

I hesitated, holding my hand to my chest.

- Don't do it, Anechka! - another voice sounded nearby, so familiar and dear, but so long not heard.

Before me stood my late mother. She was as dimly transparent as I was, perhaps a little denser in appearance. She died without me, they didn’t let me go home either to take care of her seriously ill mother, or to bury her, and only now I saw how thin and exhausted her cancer had gnawed her.

- Silence! Go away! - the beautiful stranger yelled in an ugly with rage voice, only now there is not much beauty left in him: his face suddenly became gray and wrinkled, his slender figure hunched over and somehow twisted, even the luxurious cloak now seemed like a crumpled and faded rag left over from a long-forgotten carnival.

I rushed to my mother and hugged her. The touch to her airy body was quite palpable and pleasant, as if you were touching a strong stream of warm air. Of course, the stranger's anger scared me, but Mom was more important! A thought flashed through: maybe now we can be together again and never be apart?

- Mom, you know, I died too!

- Yes, daughter, I know. Your grandfather and I came to meet you.

A tall young man with a beard and long hair, dressed in priestly clothes, appeared from behind my mother. I never saw him during his lifetime, and for some reason my grandfather's photographs were not preserved in the family, but I realized that he was really my grandfather, by his resemblance to my mother: he had a thin nose with our family hump, light blond hair and blue eyes that my mother had in her youth.

“Hello, granddaughter,” he nodded. - You did the right thing, that you did not renounce the cross: if you did it, we could no longer help you. Now pray to the Lord to save you from Satan, hit Satan in the Name of Christ: an old liar has appeared to draw you along and destroy your soul.

- What is a lie? The stranger, already recovered, shrugged his shoulders. - Hell, Satan? Who believes in these tales now? It is clear that there is Evil in the world, but not to the same extent it is personified!

The one whose existence I doubted, as if overheard my thoughts:

- You're right, my treasure, who now believes in Satan with a tail and horns? Only fools like your grandfather, who even went to a stupid, caricatured death for his delusions. I am not Satan, I am a Demiurge, creator and patron of people.

- You're lying, blasphemer! My young grandfather exclaimed, and there was power in his voice. “You didn’t create people, you just distorted God's creation. And I am trying to save my granddaughter just by my death on the cross, it is martyrdom that gives me the right to boldly pray for her at the very Throne of God.

My posthumous adventures Julia Voznesenskaya

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Title: My Posthumous Adventures

About the book "My Posthumous Adventures" Yulia Voznesenskaya

"My Posthumous Adventures" is a parable story written by the Russian writer Yulia Voznesenskaya. It tears the reader away from the earth and everyday life, transferring him to the otherworldly afterlife. Some place the book in the category of modern fiction, while others discover the wisdom and spiritual truths of the Orthodox Church. The parable story provides food for the mind, forcing everyone to think about thoughts, actions and attitude towards life in general.

The work "My Posthumous Adventures" begins in a completely non-trivial way - "with the fact that I fell from the fourth floor and crashed." The main character shares her impressions and fascinating afterlife story with such ease that the book can be read in one breath. It has a touch of irony and humor, and the writing language is simple and friendly. Yulia Voznesenskaya describes the amazing events that took place in her real life, as well as her family and friends.

It all happened because of the cat Watermelon, who climbed against the will and without the permission of the hostess, on the balcony in her favorite flowers. As a fat cat, he could not get back, so he loudly called the main character to help her. Leaning over the balcony, the girl rescued the cat, but lost her balance and flew down like a doll. From this, her adventure began in a new image - a soul that separated from a body on the table of the intensive care room.

From the story "My Posthumous Adventures" the reader learns the truths that the Orthodox Church preaches. The parable is an idea of ​​the afterlife, about what it can be in accordance with Scripture. What temptations and difficulties await a person after death? What is beyond the threshold of human existence? What is eternal life and is it possible to conquer death at all?

Each of us wants to know about what awaits us after death. Yulia Voznesenskaya very brightly answered this question, even with a great deal of humor. There will be religion, funny stories and even a fat cat. When you read, there is simply no doubt that after death, everything will be exactly the same for a modern person. There is no fear, no terrible things. Everything is very simple and straightforward.

It turns out that after the heart stops and the soul leaves the mortal body, it begins a completely new and special existence. It is filled with many trials, which must be passed with dignity and repentance. Yulia Voznesenskaya describes in her book "My Posthumous Adventures" the wanderings of the soul easily and naturally. But where does she roam? Does everyone go to hell and does it exist at all? Is it necessary to be saved from eternal torment, or is all this nothing more than a fiction? And why does what is called hell resemble so much ordinary human life? Or maybe all this is just the beginning of a new path.

On our site about books, you can download the site for free or read the online book "My Posthumous Adventures" by Julia Voznesenskaya in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, find out the biography of your favorite authors. For novice writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary skill.

Quotes from the book "My Posthumous Adventures" Yulia Voznesenskaya

“You look like a bunny now,” I told him.
- Who it? He asked suspiciously.
- Bunny? Well, a gray one, with ears.
- Doesn't bite?
- No.
- Then, it's OK. I will be similar.

the best way to protect yourself from fear is to laugh at the one you are afraid of

- God will forgive! - Maybe he will forgive. But if you have not forgiven, then there is nothing to hope for His forgiveness.

The world is a symphony composed by God, and you were meant to sing only one note in it - your own, only life, so short and so irreplaceable. God is merciful, but if you sang it out of tune, then you will not sound from God's leaf in this music, you will simply fall out of it.

Be careful and remember: DO NOT BE AFRAID, DO NOT ARGUE AND PRAY!

I realized that they were driving us to work, and I was delighted. Work is when you do something, what you are told, and then you get something for it. You don't need to think at work. Thinks the one who commands. It's hard to think at all, it gives me a headache.

All people are divided into two types: those who eat others and those who are eaten by others. I belong to the second.

Free download of the book "My Posthumous Adventures" Julia Voznesenskaya

(Fragment)

What happens to a person's soul after death? And in general, is there a soul, life after death, or something like that? Many people believe in the existence of Hell and Paradise, in the fact that after death they will have to answer for their actions, pay for their sins with suffering. And there are those who completely deny the existence of God and everything supernatural. Julia Voznesenskaya's book "My Posthumous Adventures" will make you think not only about the existence of the afterlife, but also about what the life of the soul can be after the death of a person.

The book is written lively, with humor in places, so it does not look like a boring sermon. It is written in an artistic style, using the example of the main character Anna, you can find out what can happen after the end of life on earth. For Anna, this story began precisely with her death. One might expect to see anything or not see anything. But Anna somehow did not even think about what might await her on the other side. A woman treats everything with ease, you cannot call her too religious and God-fearing. At first, she seems frivolous, does not understand what is terrible in human sins, but gradually, passing through trials and suffering, a different understanding of the world opens up to her. Anna changes, realizes her mistakes and her imperfections. This is no longer carelessness and misunderstanding, but repentance and humility. The woman's soul becomes completely different.

This book will talk about the importance of keeping the divine commandments, but it does not advocate to devote your whole life to faith and service to God. It is completely different. It's just that while reading, you start to think more and more about how important it is to live with warmth and understanding in your heart, to do good deeds, to be able to forgive, not to be proud. There is a rethinking of oneself and one's life, so the book will be of interest to everyone who thinks about the purity of their souls and thoughts.

On our site you can download the book "My Posthumous Adventures" Voznesenskaya Yulia Nikolaevna for free and without registration in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format, read the book online or buy a book in the online store.