horror effect

Nikolay was obviously drunk, talked very agitatedly, and finally made himself cry.Valentine looked at the tears streaming from between his fingers covering his eyes, and suddenly felt hatred for him.You are sad and in pain, why do you have to come to me and cry.Do you think I will give you any advice or help?fool.

He scolded Nicholas, and he scolded himself.In Valentine's heart, like Nicholas, he struggled with some things that made him very uncomfortable.A certain shadow has been wandering in his heart, far away and near, so far away that he can't see it, but close enough to hear the sound of each other's breathing.But Valentine is not even as good as Nicholas. He doesn't know what the thing in his heart is called, love?care?worship?

Sometimes he would rather run away, not to see, not to hear, not to think.He reads, enters another world—a world completely different from his own, where he breathes fresh air, takes nourishment, grows strong, and returns to the real world, ready to take its blows and setbacks .

When he was at a distance, he found other people's worlds to be ridiculous, as did Herbert Wernstein's.To grow, to destroy; to adore, to despise; to love, to hate.Everything changes, everything can be anything else or nothing.Herbert Wernstein is handsome, humble, and gentle, but if you stay away from him, he will trip over a branch of your tree while walking with you on the mountain road, and pop out while washing clothes. A colored soap bubble is no different.He is the branch, he is the soap bubble, of course, the soap bubble is also the branch, and everything else is everything else.

This feeling made Valentine very angry.He hates his own thoughts.Herbert... Shouldn't it be different?How could he be anything as dull and clumsy as a twig or as flashy and fleeting as a soap bubble?But another voice in his heart told him, the same, the same...

"I'm a fool!" exclaimed Valentine suddenly.

But the curse didn't cause any reaction from Nicholas - he was already terribly drunk, lying on the counter table.Valentine picked up the bottle of whiskey in Nicola's hand, looked at the shaking dark brown liquid in the bottle, and took a big gulp.The burning smell was very choking, and he couldn't stop coughing.

Julian and Stephen make an appointment to meet the next day, when Julian will give him the photos taken during the interview with Marmey.After he was gone, Stephen continued to study the charts.time flies.Time always flies by.At noon, the sun shone on the window sills, the big white cat Zou Yi was sleeping, and the last bit of blackened snow on the window sill was melting; in the afternoon, the dry branches of the trees cast oblique shadows and climbed from the foot of the house to the roof; In the evening, the snow water solidified again, the shadows were obliterated by the darkness, and the lights came on. Go home, eat, and sleep.Tomorrow it starts all over again, the snow melts and freezes, the branches climb up and down endlessly, the lights come on and go off.

Stephen was sitting at the table poking peas with a fork.His eyes looked over the top of Mr. Brumontrost's head to a hole and a cobweb in the corner.A year ago there was no hole, a month ago there was no cobweb; a month from now there will be no cobweb, a year from now there will be no hole. There was no him 27 years ago, and I don't know if there will be him 27 years later.Who will know?Someone who saw him as a hole and a spider...?

"Stephen! The peas have fallen! What are you thinking?"

He was startled to see that the fork was poking out of the plate and the peas were rolling on the floor.

"Nothing..." he replied, stooping to pick the peas into the napkin.

Drop it, pick it up; throw it away, find it again; erase it, and rewrite it.We can make it up, we can start over.A person has a soul after death, and goes to heaven; what about peas?is also like this?Are there peas in heaven?

Thinking of this, he laughed.Mrs. Breumontrose looked at her son and said with some concern, "Stephen, it's time for you to find a job."

Mr. Brymontrose interrupted: "I think he's a bit moldy."

"Yes, penicillin can be extracted." Stephen replied, then wiped his mouth and fled from the restaurant.

Work?He doesn't need a static job.What he wants is change, countless possibilities, like the white lion he is exploring, people, souls, gods, nature, anything.

The next day, the sun chirped "Morning, morning," and as soon as Stephen opened his eyes they drove into his marrow.The windows were wide open, and it was springtime outside, with mottled green shadows swaying on the walls like the cascading leaves of May ivy.The big white cat Zou Yi is gone, and its meowing can be heard in the distance; a white crow is flapping its wings on the window sill; a faint fragrance is wafting in the air.

Stephen touched his forehead.Did he sleep all winter?He walked to the window and wanted to peek out at the scene outside, but only heard a sharp cry, and countless white crows flapped their wings and flew towards him. The huge air current and terrifying force pushed him back to the center of the room.

The sunlight pouring down on the floor touched his feet, and the pain rose from there, higher and stronger.The bone marrow felt like a needle prick, the leg bones seemed to be electrified, and the hair seemed to stand on end.Flesh turned into metal, he was stretched into thousands of thin strings, turned into a harp, plucked by countless fingers.From the top of the head to the toes, the tingling gradually concentrated in the fingers as the tidal surge washed through the veins with each heartbeat.He reached out, knuckles protruding, then pulled back by willpower.The battlefield where the two sides are fighting is constantly being pulled, swelling and shrinking.

This feeling is not unfamiliar to him.He has been through...

As soon as he had this idea in his head, a corner of the floor began to glow, like a lighthouse in a harbor calling ships in the dark night, more like the prototype of some ghostly siren tempting him with a song that plucked directly at the nerve fibers.He started to back away, but the luminous body seemed to be pulling a string around him, trying to pull him through.He clenched his fist and swung it vigorously, the dust flying out of his palm instantly glowed, and countless fireflies on summer nights and stars in the sky suddenly crowded the whole room, shouting loudly in his ear one by one: "Pick it up!" ! Pick it up!"

He had curled up in a corner of the room, but now he couldn't take it anymore.He jumped up suddenly, jumped to the opposite corner with just one step, and used his fingers to pick out the lump from the crack in the floor, so eager and hard that his nails were cracked.

That's it, that's it!My treasure!

The door opened suddenly.Someone comes in!who is it?

Someone took his hand and started snatching the lump.this is mine!he screamed.Treasures were taken from them.Lives were taken.After the luminous body left his hand, it shattered, dissolved, and poured down to the floor like a waterfall, mixing with the fireflies and planets.

He screamed, "Give it back to me!" His fingers stretched out.

At this time, someone read a word: disappear.

In an instant, the fireflies died, the stars were destroyed, and the spring of May has become a dream.All the tenderest and most beautiful things melted in an instant, like stones thrown into lava.

Wooden floors, books, tables.

Stephen looked up and saw Julian Raymond standing in front of him, holding a small and torn plastic bag in his hand, his face full of astonishment.On the floor between the two of them, fine salt-like powder was sprinkled.

Julian Raymond stared at Stephen who was kneeling in front of him.The scorching flames in his eyes that were still burning just now suddenly went out when the plastic bag left his hand. Now, he knelt there, staring at Julian with blank and confused eyes, as if with strange textures. nephrite jade.His fingers were still twisted, though, and something that once held him was slipping from them, and a remaining drop still hung on the edge, shining, holding him.

While staring at him, Julian slowly tilted his head and licked the white powder on his cuff with the tip of his tongue.

Unsurprisingly.

He frowned.At this moment, he really wanted to punch Stephen, or slap, or kick.Anything can cause outrage, a jeer, a drop of ink, a ray of sunlight, and the wondrous human mind keeps us from guessing what will slip into our minds the next moment.White powder, memories, red slippers in memories, syringes, these are enough for Julian.

At this moment, Stephen's body shook suddenly, as if awakened from a dream, and then he let out a breath, like a long sigh.His shoulders relaxed and he leaned forward, fingers resting on the floor. "What's wrong..." He muttered softly.

Julian suddenly reached out and grabbed Stephen's arm, pulled him up and pressed him onto the sofa, shaking the broken plastic bag in front of his eyes, and white powder floated onto the clothes of the two of them. "Where did you get it? How many years have you been smoking? Don't your parents know?" he growled.Although he knew he was meddling, the drug powder was like sand in his eyes, stinging him and the memories in his heart.

Stephen was frightened by his movement, raised his hand between the bodies of the two people, and said, "I don't know...how did this happen...?" Then he suddenly thought of something, his face changed, and he shouted, "You don't care about me! It has nothing to do with you! How did you get in? I didn't hear the doorbell... You broke in...!"

He wanted to push Julian's palm away, but the gloomy expression on the other side made his whole body tense, and his voice couldn't help lowering.The distance between them is very close, only separated by Stephen's palm, they can feel each other's breathing, and can see themselves clearly in each other's pupils.However, Julian has no intention of backing down. "Answer me seriously... how many years have you been smoking meth?"

Julian's eyes were very serious, but it made Stephen amused.Because of fear, he didn't dare to make a sound, but a burst of laughter had already erupted deep in his chest. "It's none of your business," he replied.

"Do your parents know?"

"It has nothing to do with you."

"You need to go to detox."

"It has nothing to do with you."

Julian clenched his fists, and the blue blood vessels throbbed.Stephen shrank back, his back pressed against the back of the sofa.There's going to be a beating, he thought.Where will you fight?Head, cheeks, chest?Anywhere, bruises, blood, maybe a broken bone.He thought masochistically, and even fantasized about the sound of blood dripping down his mouth.

But Julian let go.He turned around and collected the drug powder on the floor, then opened the window and threw the powder out together with the plastic bag.It was cold, but he kept looking at them scattered in the garden before pulling his head back.The soil is soggy from the snowmelt that it will dissolve.

Behind him, Stephen finally laughed out loud.The laughter was dry, ironic and mocking. "Why don't you hit?" he said. "I deserve your fist."

"Yes, I want to beat you up, but..." Julian smiled slightly, "It's not worth it. You are still too young, and many wrong things you did because of your youth can be forgiven."

"Young..." This was Stephen's most unpredictable evaluation.For a person who is about to turn 30 in two years, the word young has been unfamiliar for a long time.His parents whispered in his ears, "You are so old, you should have worked long ago" or "You will be old if you don't get married."

What is youth?It is the cheeks of a teenager with golden hairs, and it is the pure and warm welcome of a 20-year-old youth to life.But these things have already left him. "What are you talking about?" Stephen muttered.

"Stephen... What do you want me to say about you? You are only 27 years old, what can you experience in 27 years? You were born in a middle-class family, received a good education, and can go to university abroad, like many young people, Taking drugs because you're bored with life. You feel sick inside, but what have you ever suffered? You only understand pain from books. What do you know about the world?"

"Ah! Yes, you are right!" Stephen yelled, "What about you? You are ten years older than me, and what kind of suffering have you suffered to be entitled to say these things to me!"

Julian laughed, but his hoarse voice and the creases on his face made it seem to Stephen that the laughter was coming from a throat that had once splintered into pieces and then stitched back together. "I actually forgot..." he said, "I actually forgot that we are strangers. Does my criticism of you help my life? No. Why should I bother." He walked straight to the door, walking very fast. quick.

Stephen sat up straight on the sofa.He wondered what was hiding in those wrinkles on Julian's face.He must have suffered a lot.Stephen had felt it the first time they met, and the reconfirmation now made him want to know what it was that had plowed the furrows in his face with the painful plowshares. "Stop!" Stephen yelled.

Julian looked back at him, his eyes seemed to say that "we have nothing to say between us".And as if responding to him, Stephen said, "No, it's not over yet. I know you've suffered, I've felt it since we first met. It's hard to keep things that make you miserable. If you want Convince me, tell them. Or are you afraid to speak? On the wall of each of our hearts hangs a bitter whip, which tears our shell, makes the heart bleed with pain, and atones in confession. You Dare you beat yourself with it in front of me?" Stephen's eyes were bright, with a provocative gleam.He gazed at Julian dogmatically with just such eyes.

Clouds of water vapor and mist rose around Julian, spreading out a silver-white tranquil atmosphere.The golden bell of memory rings in his ears, and the golden hammer that strikes is every word Stephen utters.So those scattered words began to fall into place, slowly combining into a chain leading to the past.