(essay)

That night I woke up to an annoying heat that stuck to every inch of my body. I threw the blanket on the floor, but that made it even hotter. I wanted to take my “weather” T-shirt that Bit gave me for my 12th birthday. In whatever weather conditions you are stuck, it will always make a comfortable temperature for your body. But when I went to my closet, I smelled smoke… Fire…

I pulled the collar of my nightgown under my eyes and immediately ran out of the room. Going down and down, I realized that something was on fire on the ground floor. When I jumped down the last step, I saw Bit reading something in his father’s notebook. He always carried it with him and often looked for clues in it. He didn’t let anyone see his notebook, so I don’t know exactly what clues were written there. Perhaps it was his father’s wise advice.

It didn’t matter now. The store goes up in flames, and Bit proofreads something in a notebook!

“Sir, we need to call the fire department!”

“They won’t help.”

“Sir, hurry up before everything here burns down!”

Bit continued to stand still. A lot of thoughts swirled in my head. Where did the fire come from? Why doesn’t Bit do anything? How many goods have already been damaged?

But I couldn’t leave him standing and waiting for the ribbon of fire to snake around his body.

“Sir, get money, documents and leave. I’ll run to call the fire department.”

Bit, like a wound up toy, began to get money from the cash register and take out documents from the safe. I went up to the second floor and called the firemen, but when I returned, I saw that Bit was sitting peacefully in his chair, his hands on the armrests.

By that time, the fire had already filled almost the entire first floor. The smoke burned my eyes. It felt like I was in a real hell.

“Sir, we need to leave!”

“I promised my father that I wouldn’t leave the store until my last breath.”

But his last breaths were bitten by acrid smoke so that I could hear only scraps of words.

“Bit, damn it, we can die! We need to get out of here!”

As soon as I said that, Mr. Dickens stepped out of the fire. Even though I was already choking on the poisonous smoke, for a moment, I lost the ability to breathe.

I thought I had gone crazy. Mr. Dickens stepped out of the hot flame, put his left hand on Bit’s shoulder and smiled slyly.

“He has made his choice,” Mr. Dickens said loudly, without any hint of coughing.

“What? What’s going on?” because of the bewilderment I couldn’t even think about how to move to the doors and save myself.

“He was right, Tarry,” Bit answered. “We really do look alike. We both keep people’s lives in check. The only difference is that I’m selling life. And he buys. ”

“I don’t understand anything…Sir…the fire will soon swallow us up and not choke …” a little more and I will lose consciousness.

“Your guardian didn’t want to sell me his life. Didn’t want to make a deal like a human being. So I had to take the shop in my own way,” devils danced in the eyes of Mr. Dickens. Literally, oh my God.

“Tarry, don’t be afraid. You won’t be left alone. Here, take it,” Bit handed me his folder, which contained documents, money and his father’s notebook. “I hope you haven’t forgotten your watch.”

Before going to bed, I again looked at them for a long time, and in order not to get up and go to the bedside table, I put them in the pocket of my nightgown.

“Goodbye, Tarry,” Bit and Mr. Dickens were consumed from head to toe by fire. I think I even heard the laughter of demons from the eyes of Dickens, but the smoke clouded my consciousness so much that I passed out.

I woke up already in the hospital. Bit’s folder lay on the nightstand next to him. When I realized what had happened, the first thing I wanted to do was to read the clues from Bit’s notebook.

What. Should. I. Do.

When I opened the notebook, I saw that it was empty. Is this a joke? Or have I still not recovered from the influence of smoke? When I burst into sobs, closing the notebook, it seemed to me that something was written on the page after all. I quickly found this page and saw the inscription “If you want to do the right thing, give the time to the devil and take his mind.”

The notebook-hound. It looks for answers to any of your questions. But I didn’t have any more questions. I had no home. No family. No life.

Now I had only an aim — to give Dickens a watch.