(Coconuts - Silver Lights)
The hut. Again, it was that lonely cabin in the middle of nowhere. Today it welcomed a guest again, seated at a table by the window, and the guest was not very happy about it. The atmosphere hadn't changed much since last time: warmth, the smell of the forest, herbs and coziness, all lingered in the musty air. Nor had her visitor changed. Still blond, still strong, still gloomy.
What had changed was his company. From the chair by the door a pair of perfectly black, perfectly round cock's eyes were staring at Simon. He couldn't see a bit of intellect in those eyes, which managed to look straight into his soul. The bird sat in the most pompous and annoying way possible, with its legs thrown over each other, which a mere chicken could not do.
What spoke against the bird's unreasonableness was the clothes it wore. A worn-out kjerag coat and black jeans. A chair covered by a patterned carpet was illuminated by a cone of blood-red light. The side of the window was illuminated by silver light from there as well.
"Jacket." A dull clucking sounded in the red twilight. "A human who lives for revenge. Well, if you're a human."
"Who are you?" Simon asked in return.
"I have many names," the bird answered thoughtfully. "You won't need any of them."
The rooster opened its mouth, and in the darkness of its beak, the blond could see even rows of teeth. The feathers on his face looked real, and even though he saw the same glass eyes as the tiger in the skyscraper, he knew it wasn't a mask.
"Have we met before?" The killer scratched the back of his head, somewhat confused.
"Yes. I've always been here with you. You knew it, but you didn't realize it."
Damn bird. Confuses the hell out of me. But she's here for a reason, isn't she?
"Why are you here?" Simon put his hands on the table.
"To talk. You like to talk, don't you?" The bird perked up at the end of the sentence.
"No," The killer shook his head.
"You need to... understand something."
The guy looked doubtfully at the current owner of the hut. He was frightening by the mere fact that he was an intelligent hallucination in the form of a fur coat with a cock's head. But if the sight of him was frightening, his words could be useful. Simon crossed his palms under his chin, shielding himself from his interlocutor.
"Go ahead."
"You're close to death," the bird went straight to revelations. "Close again. The goals have changed, though at first glance, everything remains the same. Even this hut."
"I see that you are a fan of riddles?" Simon said sarcasticly.
- And what about you?
That asshole didn't seem to answer in any way, but he was confusing. The blond sighed heavily, his gaze traveling upward. The asshole was illuminated by a light bulb with wires running out the door. He leaned on the table. This isn't going to be easy...
"I can only give you riddles. It's up to you to find the answers," said the rooster in a dulcet voice, staring unblinkingly at his interlocutor.
"I thought I was doing the same thing before," Simon replied irritably.
"This will give you a knowledge."
"You can never have too many knowledges, huh?" The blond grinned.
"Yes. The knowledge of what's going on. Without it, you're just a pawn moved by someone else's hand."
"We're all moved by something," Simon said thoughtfully.
"Now you are moving on your own, but it's like a wind-up toy," The rooster squeaked. "You need to open your eyes, see the field outside the window."
"How do I do that?"
"I'm going to ask you three questions. Think and answer," the bird announced. Simon thought and straightened up. "Where are you now? What's waiting for you? And... Do you like hurting people?" Declared the rooster. "That's all."
The boy could have answered by now, the words almost rolled off his tongue. But he didn't have time: the world swam and melted in his eyes, the hut spun, his body felt heavy, he felt dizzy, as if from high pressure. A couple of moments, and neither the hut nor the scary-bird were gone.