© Grif LLC, design, 2014

© LLC Publishing House “Lepta Book”, text, illustrations, 2014

© Voznesenskaya Yu.N., 2014

© Timoshenko Yu., 2014

* * *

It has been given to you to know the secrets of the Kingdom of God, but to others - in parables.

God 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 in common with reality and even as conjectures were not worth much, since they were based solely on the testimony of my emigrant friends. The version of suicide was simple, like a woman's novel, 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 like that to Georgy’s infidelities, there wouldn’t be enough balconies in our entire apartment building.

The second version - murder disguised as suicide - was not suitable 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 dangers on his life's path, avoided obstacles and never went to extremes.

Everything was much simpler. Our cat Watermelon loved to go to the toilet in nature, and my boxes with flowers, suspended from the balcony lattice - from above and below - served him as such. As soon as the balcony door was left open for exactly a minute, he would immediately sneak into the luxurious thickets of petunias and shit there with pleasure. And that wouldn’t be so bad: but, having committed obscenity and sensing retribution, the vile desecrator of innocent flowers cowardly tried to hide the traces of the crime, while clods of earth and scolded branches of petunias flew in different directions. No amount of educational measures, including beating him on the head with a folded Russian Thought in four, could cure the cat of his favorite vice.

That ill-fated morning, I went out onto the balcony several times so as not to miss the taxi I had ordered the night before, and I simply forgot to close the balcony door behind me for the last time. The prodigal husband picked up a travel bag with foreign gifts for his, of course, unknown to me, Moscow girlfriend and went to the elevator, and I escorted him out the door with the usual parting words: don’t even think about coming back and don’t forget to put on a warm sweater before boarding - it’s cold in Moscow according to the forecast and rain. He just as usual said 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, since behind me I had almost a continuous night of showdown.

The heart-rending meow of Watermelon woke me up. I jumped out of bed and rushed to the balcony, from where his cries for help were flying. The sneering cat, taking advantage of the open door and the silence in the house, this time got to the bottom drawer, did his dirty deed there, and was unable to get out back: his fat belly, for which, in combination with his stripes, was nicknamed Watermelon, did not let him to crawl between the bars of the grate, and spreading petunias prevented him from climbing over the top. I leaned over the railing and grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck, and he was so frightened that, just to be sure, he twisted around and grabbed my hand with all twenty of his 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 scared Watermelon, such rubbish, at that decisive moment did not lose his head and jumped up over my shoulders and back and thereby saved his life. striped skin, he pushed me down. I completely lost my balance and fell headfirst from the fourth floor. I hasten to reassure those who are passionate about the welfare of pets: after I was taken howling in an ambulance to the hospital, and the police broke into the apartment, our neighbor Frau Hoffmann took the poor orphaned cat under her wing, 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 - perhaps this slightly softened the blow. After all, I didn’t break softly, but only broke half of the bones and smashed my head like 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 successes of German medicine: a whole team of doctors treated my unfortunate limbs! Some were putting the broken ribs back into my chest, sticking out of it like springs from an old sofa, others were screwing some screws and dowels into the scattered bones of my legs, others were digging into my slightly open stomach and sewing something there - and I watched everything that was happening 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 that’s when it all really began. I saw my face, but it was the face of a corpse: white to the point of bluishness, the nose became pointed, blue lips stuck to the teeth, between which a transparent tube stuck out, and in it something hissed and gurgled. I felt disgusted with myself - I was always scared by the faces of the dead, and then there was my own... But the worst thing was that my eyes were closed - so how can I see all this?!

Out of fright, I jerked to the side and... found myself hanging between two lamps from the ceiling. And in an instant everything turned upside down: there was no mirror above me - it was I myself who was upstairs and looking from there at my own body stretched out below. I was not afraid, since the thought of death had not yet visited me, but I was slightly disappointed: it turns out that German medicine had nothing to do with it, and for getting rid of pain I had 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. In that case, why not fly somewhere nicer? That’s what I thought and immediately realized my intention, flying through the door someone opened into the hospital corridor.

Finding myself under the ceiling of the corridor - for some reason I was constantly being pulled upward - I discovered that a rather thick luminous cord was stretching from me through the door of the intensive care unit. I thought that I had accidentally dragged some kind of hose from the resuscitation equipment with me.

I wonder what I actually look like? I tried to look at myself, and although I clearly had vision, even more vigilant than in reality, and I did not feel my eyes, but I just had to wish, and I saw myself from the outside: it was me, but only translucent, something... it's 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, which, by the way, in this form had no protruding ribs or any other damage. On the contrary, I felt absolutely healthy and full of vigor.

At the far end of the corridor there was a large window, I decided to fly towards it. It was a pleasure to float under the ceiling, but I couldn’t fly further than the middle of the corridor: the cord to which I was tied became tense, and I felt a burning pain in my chest when I tried to tear 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 corner for visitors: a coffee table, a sofa and two armchairs. My friend Natasha was sitting in one of them and talking to someone on her cell phone, shedding copious tears and greedily smoking a cigarette. Of course, the conversation was about me:

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

“Natasha, stop chattering and buy me a cigarette!” – I shouted cheerfully from under 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 passed through it, like a ray of sunshine 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 is unconscious. George is not here, no one even knows where he is. Apparently he disappeared, the scoundrel. The police found me using her notebook, I told everything about their family life, and now he is wanted as a possible murderer. And I think that he is a murderer even if Anna committed suicide, I’ll tell you what, my dear...

I felt bored and disgusted - and this is my best friend! He’s been sitting here for a couple of hours, judging by the number of cigarette butts and lipstick in the ashtray, crying for me, but still gossiping. I took it and flew away.

I felt sick. I was already tired of hanging around the ceiling, I was tired of this dream, but I didn’t know how to wake up from it. An unprecedentedly acute feeling of loneliness gripped me. I decided to return to the intensive care ward, closer to my body, and I succeeded without difficulty.

There were no doctors in the room anymore, only the nurse on duty was sitting at a table in the corner. My body lay very calm, my chest rose and fell evenly, but, looking at the wires and tubes entangled around me, I realized that life in this body was glimmering only thanks to medical equipment. A luminous cord connected me to my motionless body below, and only then did it dawn on me: this is not a dream or delirium, this is all really happening.

It became clear to me that I had actually died, artificial life was being maintained in my body, and my soul, that is, my precious Self, had already left it, and only this luminous thread still connected me with it. And I felt so sorry for Anna lying there below, helpless, wrapped in bandages and stuck with needles and tubes! But I couldn’t help myself, and I again wanted to be away from myself, and I again flew into the hospital corridor in order to feel even more acutely the utter loneliness that had 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 discussing 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, short, no more than a meter tall, squat and hunchbacked. They moved towards me and found themselves under the light of the corridor lamps, and then I saw them and immediately decided: aliens!

Whether I believed or didn’t believe in UFOs before this meeting, I don’t know; more likely, I just didn’t think much about it, but information on this topic accumulated in my head and settled quite well, like any modern reader and TV viewer. In any case, these creatures did not evoke fear in me, rather curiosity, slightly tinged with anxiety. If we assume 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 they turned into elongated faces, which would be more accurately described by the word “snout”. At first glance, they resembled some kind of exotic animals, something like a cross between pigs and wolves, but the large round eyes, surrounded by dark folds of skin and devoid of eyelashes, definitely sparkled with a keen intelligence.

The aliens stood below me and continued to confer, muttering something in their shrill, hoarse language, which did not even remotely resemble any of the earthly languages ​​I had heard. They were clearly talking about me, since they not only looked in my direction, but also pointed at me with their upper limbs, which looked like children’s hands in carnival wolf gloves with claws, which, it must be said, were quite terrifying in appearance. Feeling some disgust, I sternly besieged myself: but, but, only without cosmic racism, please! I don’t know what I look like to them, but even to the human eye, I now, presumably, look more like a humanoid jellyfish than a well-preserved female specimen of just over forty years old.

One of the aliens, who was head and shoulders taller than 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, the order to go with them to God knows where, and only then the greeting. I decided to show independence:

- Until I find out who you are and where you are inviting me, I will not move. Besides, I'm attached to him. Not to the place, but to my body.

Their reaction seemed to me somewhat aggressive: they understood me, but they did not like my words, which was expressed by sharp squeals. They conferred, then the elder began to explain:

– We came for you from a distant planet. The time has come for you to leave Earth. You won't regret it. The connection with the body must be interrupted. You must do this. By myself now. Now and here. Do this and you will fly with us. Die and be free!

Why, they scattered! I won’t even go to such astral suicide of my own free will. How can I break the connection with my poor, so familiar, so familiar body, leave it in suffering, betray it, helpless and voiceless! No, we have endured so much together, we will endure more. Well, we'll see...

– Who are you, exactly, to decide for me when it’s time for me to die? And what is this planet where you came from?

The head of the aliens rained down on me a cascade of some astronomical terms, which I had no clue about, bombarded me with names from which I only recognized Alpha Eridani, the promised planet of Soviet science fiction writers, stuck in my brain since childhood. However, I thought, I shouldn’t be ironic: 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 through my mind, which was unusual: I had long ago forgotten how to think about several things at once as a young person, without losing the clarity of my thinking.

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

The hospital window made of solid glass first glowed with green light, then waves began to spread across it, like across the screen of a broken TV, and then on this window-screen an unearthly landscape appeared with amazing clarity and brightness, first one, then another, a third... There was a lot and a lot of everything : vegetation of all colors of the rainbow against the backdrop of 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, more like temples than housing. But you won’t surprise a modern person with starry landscapes: science fiction and fantasy illustrators, filmmakers and “space artists” have yet to do much more than that.

Pictures floated through the window, replacing one another, and then everything stopped on a lovely landscape with a white villa on a golden hill, with a staircase gently descending to a pink pond, along which some emerald waterfowl with crowns on their graceful heads were gliding imposingly. So what? If I can now fly wherever I want for free and without a visa, then, of course, I will fly not to some unknown planet to admire green swans, but to Australia, for example, or to Bermuda. But first I’ll 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,” said the alien.

- Why do I need this? For people I am now invisible and inaudible - what prevents me from settling even in the Faceted Chamber of the Kremlin? I don’t think I’m facing a housing problem.

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

– The Faceted Chamber is already occupied by other souls, from those who are not allowed to ascend to the Big Heavens.

– Why did your Big Heavens surrender to me? I am quite happy with my Small Earth.

- This is humor. It is incomprehensible to us, but we accept it as proof of your fearlessness. You are not afraid of us. This is good.

He shouldn't have said that. I immediately realized that I was afraid, very afraid, I had not been so afraid of anyone or anything for a long time. But my old dissident instincts began to speak up in me: the best way to protect yourself from fear is to laugh at those you fear. I decided to be on my guard. In the past, KGB officers could destroy first of all well-being, then life and body, and lastly the mind and soul. Here the conversation was immediately about the soul, because I had nothing else left...

– Peace awaits you there, it’s very beautiful there!

- It sounds tempting. And what else?

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

- Is this spiritualism, or what? I was never particularly interested, you know...

“With us you will meet those whom you loved on earth and who left it before you.” Remember them!

It was a strong 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 have been friends in our adult years.

As soon as I thought about my dear dead, they, as if they were just waiting for this, appeared in the frame: the three of them came out of the doors of the white villa and stopped at the top of the stairs - mother, 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 as I remembered, he was even dressed in the same gray school suit in which we buried him. Alyosha ran down the stairs, waving his hand at me invitingly and laughing joyfully, and mom and dad...

This is where they screwed up. In this touching shot, mother and father stood at the top of the stairs, affectionately hugging each other’s shoulders, and also smiled lovingly and invitingly - but this could not have happened even in your Big Heavens! The fact is that after Alyosha’s death, my old people, out of grief, couldn’t come up with anything better than blaming each other for his death. Things reached the point of such ardent hatred that both the former love and the very memory of Alyosha dissolved in it without a trace; during rare meetings they remembered him only to prick 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 also accompanied me to emigration one by one: I spent the last evening with my father, then I went to my mother, and we talked almost all night. In the morning Georgiy arrived by taxi and took us to the airport.

- But you must!

- How can I owe you something when I didn’t even know about your existence until the last hour?

- Everyone will find out 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 ward, and rushed with all my might.

And I committed a great stupidity: I should have, having slipped away from these suspicious aliens, slowly and smoothly moved into the ward, and then nothing would have happened. I would sway over my mortal body like a balloon, and then, lo and behold, the aliens would go home to their Alpha, and I would continue my ephemeral existence in quiet hospital corridors until better times. But in my fright I hurried, I literally fell into my prostrate body and suddenly found myself in complete darkness and deafness. A terrible, completely unbearable pain gripped me, and with every heavy beat of my heart this pain intensified and intensified. I screamed and began to struggle with all my might to get out of this container of pain - and I succeeded. It was even too successful: with a sharp jerk, the thread connecting me to my body broke, and I flew like a bullet into the same corridor where the aliens were waiting for me.

They didn’t grab me right away, but extended their terrible paws towards me, and from a distance I felt the freezing cold flowing from them. This cold shackled me so that I could neither move nor scream. And they approached me, squealing with glee and rubbing their vile limbs. The elder one extended his paw, touched my chest... And with a heart-rending squeal he jumped to the side, shaking his hand. I felt a little better, and I was able to shout: “Save me! Someone save me!

- No one will save you from us! – the elder snarled angrily. “Your vile talisman will be removed from you anyway when they begin to bury you, and then you will be ours!”

- No one will save you! Nobody! – the other aliens shouted.

- Well, no one! – a loud and calm male voice sounded behind me. I looked around, and the joy of hope flared up within me.

A tall gentleman with a beautiful face, who appeared from nowhere behind me, took several leisurely wide steps and stood between me and the newcomers. It 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 the golden embroidery of some medieval costume peeked out.

“She called for help, and I came to help her. That's it - get out of here. This woman is mine.

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

- I said get out.

He did not make a single movement or even raise his voice, but such authority sounded in him that the vile creatures suddenly squealed into a ball, which rolled towards the window, jumped, leaked through the glass and melted into the gray cloudy sky. The cold and horror that had shackled me disappeared without a trace.

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

– Did they really scare you? – he asked quietly.

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

“Of course, it’s a hoax, a fake,” confirmed the handsome stranger. “They are great masters of deception.” Can you guess who I am?

“I see that you are kind to me, but I don’t know who you are.” I’m so scared, so lonely, this whole situation I’ve found myself in is so strange and incomprehensible - don’t leave me alone, please!

“I won’t leave,” he nodded. – Do you guess what happened to you?

- Yes, I understand that I died. But my body lies there, on the table,” I waved my transparent hand towards the intensive care unit, “but for some reason I’m here, and I don’t know what to do next.

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

– But why “rotten”? I'm not that old...

“Don’t argue with me, baby.” You, I repeat, left your fragile, completely sick, and now mechanically damaged flesh in order to join the perfect world of spirits. Now opportunities open up before you that you didn’t even suspect during your lifetime. Stupid priestly tales about Paradise do not convey even a shadow of the splendor of the worlds that you will see. We will go to my kingdom, beautiful, carefree, sparkling with fun. There you will experience joys and pleasures 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 myself, but only those chosen by me.

- So I...

- Yes. Since your birth you have been marked by me. I followed your development with love and concern, 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 boundaries, if they were imposed on you from the outside, I pushed you to accomplish your most daring actions. 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 escaped its harmful effects, and that means you are mine! You are one of many, many millions of my beloved daughters, there are many of you, but I love you all equally.

- So who are you, finally tell me! What's your name?

“You can just call me “father.”

- Father...

- Yes. Give me your hand. Come with me and you will never feel lonely 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 have you 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 with the edge of his cloak and covered it with it. I felt embarrassed - I realized that I had said something completely different from what he expected from me. And I was also afraid that now he would leave and I would be left alone. But he was silent for a while, and then opened his face again and said with gentle reproach:

“Don’t ever say that name in front of me again.” Of course, I am not that funny character of outdated church legends. I am the only true Ruler of the human world, and it has been and is so 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 I will own everything!

Now he spoke with an almost theatrical passion, and this alarmed me slightly: I never liked pathos during life, but it turned out that I could not stand it well even after death. The appearance of my handsome stranger began to reek of some kind of theatrical mothball. Well, yes, he saved me from the 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 six to the godfather? They completely confused me, Lord have mercy...

He shuddered. He fell silent somehow confused. Then he perked up and continued with the same pathos:

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

- How can I do this, because I only have the shadow of my cross on me, and it itself remained on my body there, in the ward...

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

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

I hesitated, pressing my hand to my chest.

– Don’t do this, Anya! – another voice sounded nearby, so familiar and dear, but not heard for so long.

My late mother stood in front of me. She was just as cloudy-transparent as I was, maybe a little denser in appearance. She died without me, I was not allowed into my homeland either to care for my seriously ill mother or to bury her, and only now I saw how thin and exhausted the cancer had eaten her.

- Be silent! Get out of here! - the beautiful stranger screamed in an ugly voice with rage, only there was little beauty left in him now: his face suddenly became gray and wrinkled, his slender figure hunched over and somehow twisted, even his luxurious cloak now seemed like a wrinkled and faded rag left over from a long-forgotten carnival.

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

- Mommy, 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, wearing priestly clothes, appeared from behind my mother. I never saw him during his lifetime, and for some reason the family did not have any photographs of my grandfather, but I realized that this was really my grandfather, based on his resemblance to my mother: he had a thin nose with our family hump, light brown hair and blue eyes, like my mother had in her youth.

“Hello, granddaughter,” he nodded. “You did the right thing by not renouncing the cross: if you had done that, we would no longer be able to help you.” Now pray to the Lord to save you from Satan, beat Satan with the Name of Christ: the old liar has appeared to entice you with him and destroy your soul.

-What is a lie? – the stranger, who had already recovered, shrugged. - Hell, Satan? Who believes in these fairy tales now? It is clear that Evil exists in the world, but it is not personified to the same extent!

The one whose existence I doubted seemed to overhear my thoughts:

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

- You're lying, blasphemer! – my young grandfather exclaimed, and there was strength in his voice. “You didn’t create people, you only distorted God’s creation.” And I am trying to save my granddaughter precisely 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.

U o. Seraphim Rose, in the book “The Soul after Death,” examines in detail posthumous experiences in which our contemporaries saw precisely aliens, “luminous creatures,” etc. O. Seraphim explains that “the reason is what the dying person expects and is ready to see . Christians of past centuries who had living water<веры>, feared hell, and whose conscience eventually convicted them, often saw demons before death,<…>modern “enlightened” people see what is consistent with their comfortable life and beliefs, excluding the fear of hell and belief in demons. In fact, the demons themselves offer temptations that correspond to the spiritual state or expectations of the dying.” (Quoted from: Fr. Seraphim (Rose). The soul after death. St. Petersburg, 1994, p. 44.) - Here and below are the editor’s notes.

My acquaintance with Yulia Voznesenskaya began more than 20 years ago. Her books are now being published and can be found on the Internet. And then...

The first book with which I became acquainted with Yulia Voznesenskaya was “The Women’s Decameron”
“The Women’s Decameron” is a book about how ten Soviet women, finding themselves in the same ward of a maternity hospital, suddenly learn that a quarantine has been declared in this institution and they will have to spend another ten days within its walls, which, of course, did not make them very happy. And then one of them comes up with the idea to repeat a story, told or simply made up, by a certain Florentine writer Boccaccio, namely: for all ten days of quarantine, tell each other different stories about life, about men, about love, about jealousy and betrayal and much more, which worries any normal woman. And in ten days 100 different stories were told.
The stories are so believable that neighbor Baba Dusya actually named the names of real people who they were about.

The next book, “My Posthumous Adventures,” is a story-parable that figuratively tells about what awaits us after death. In the amazing and sometimes terrible adventures of the main character of the book in the afterlife, the reader is revealed to the spiritual truths preserved by the Orthodox Church. What are the ordeals of the soul, what awaits us after death, what temptations lie in wait for us - “My Posthumous Adventures” tells about this - a collection of grains of spiritual wisdom and experience of many people.
I really liked the book. And Anna’s “adventures” made me think about a lot in my life. To be honest, this is still fantasy.

The book by Yulia Nikolaevna Voznesenskaya “The Path of Cassandra, or Adventures with Pasta” is a futuristic dystopian novel telling about the times of the reign of the Antichrist-False Messiah on earth. The main character of the book, the girl Cassandra, revived for real life by the great miracle of love, overcomes many difficulties and finds her way to God. The story "Cassandra's Way" is another attempt to remind us that the end of the world will come, according to the Apostle Paul, when love becomes scarce and people become selfish, proud, arrogant, slanderous, ungrateful and cruel...
The book is wonderful. Such an Orthodox dystopian novel. Very easy to read.

"Lancelot's Pilgrimage" is a continuation of the novel "Cassandra's Path". The book takes place in the near future - after an environmental disaster and the unification of European states under the rule of a president who calls himself the "Messiah". Going to the distant island of Jerusalem for the planetary Lance, who wants to receive healing from the “Messiah,” we begin to understand the well-known truths differently - love, faith, goodness...

A trilogy about twin girls Julia and Anna.

Julianna, or the Game of Kidnapping

The book is the beginning of Yu. Voznesenskaya's fairy-tale trilogy about twin girls Yulia and Anya. The girls Julia and Anya experience dangerous adventures that happened to them due to the fault of their stepmother-witch. It turns out that the world is full of evil forces that, at any cost, strive to force people to commit evil acts. But faith in God and the intercession of the Guardian Angels help the girls overcome dangers and fight evil.

Julianna, or Dangerous Games
The book is a continuation of the fairy-tale trilogy by Yu. Voznesenskaya about twin girls Yulia and Anya. Book two tells the story of how Julia and Anya end up in a school of magic located in distant Ireland. Faith in God and the intercession of Guardian Angels help to overcome dangers and fight evil.

Julianna, or the Game of "Daughters and Stepmothers"
Here is the long-awaited continuation of the adventures of two sisters Yulia and Anya. In the third book, stepmother Zhanna declares a real war on her stepdaughters, trying at any cost to drive the girls out of the world and get to their father’s money. She decides to resort to the help of her colleagues - the healer Agafya Tikhovna Pupovzorova, the psychic Zhora Magiliani and the witch Akhineya. But the governess Alexandra and the Guardian Angels of the two sisters miraculously appeared in their house and help the Julians defeat various evil spirits. Goodness and justice triumph again, but perhaps this is not the end of the story...

Once upon a time there lived an old lady in green shoes
A fascinating, funny and touching story about the adventures of three old girlfriends is addressed to everyone who, in one way or another, faces the question of their own old age. It helps you understand yourself and find hope. The author convincingly shows that the saying “old age is not joy” is not true if the hearts are pure, faith is ardent, and friendship is firmly welded over the years.
Old age in our country is creeping up unnoticed. And it immediately hits the brain.
And on other parts of the body.
However, the heroines of the novel do not lose heart.
They are full of strength, humor, and endurance.
I recommend the book to those who are thinking about retirement.
and doesn't think he'll die young.
Sad..
but it’s true... But the book is not dense, rather even humorous in places...

Quench my sorrows
A serious illness, the departure of a loved one, divorce, unhappy love - people often have to deal with difficult circumstances that seem insurmountable. The collection of stories by Yu. N. Voznesenskaya will tell you how, with the help of faith, to overcome adversity and cope with the most desperate situations in life. The main value of the short stories is that they are based on real events and contain the living experience of people who overcame adversity and found God.
Content:
1. Soothe my sorrows, soothe
2. I am building a heavenly home for my beloved
3. Together on an ice floe
4,160 varieties of asparagus
5. Habitat - crypt
6. White curtain in the window
7. Mom's daughter
8. Big wash
9. Red shirt with cornflowers
10. Danilka’s pearls
11. Fool in Amber
12. Black rubber corridor going in a circle
13. Bow laces
14. Denouement
15. On this deserted road
16. House on Sennaya
The book was very impressive. Wonderful language, interesting plot. And most importantly, this is not a book that you can read and unemotionally put aside. I especially liked the stories about sick children, I felt sorry for them to the point of tears. I want to re-read it.

Honestly speaking, I liked the rest of her books, but nothing more, they didn’t touch the heartstrings.

Miracle of Edessa
In her new book, the famous writer, author of the bestseller “My Posthumous Adventures” and nominee for the 2010 Patriarchal Prize, Yu. N. Voznesenskaya, turns to the genre of the historical novel. Based on the ancient story about the maiden Euphemia and the miracle performed by Saints Samon, Gury and Aviv, the patrons of marriage, the author recreates the amazing atmosphere of the era of early Christianity. Under the pen of Yulia Voznesenskaya, the legend turns into fascinating, exciting and even dangerous adventures... but the most surprising thing is the end of this story!

This book is about the first Christians, about love, about faith, about the power of prayer.

Unexpected joy, or Servant of God Vladlen and other stories
The collection "Unexpected Joy, or God's Servant Vladlen and Other Stories" is a book about our time; her heroes - businessmen and homeless people, emigrants and students, men, women and children - live as difficult as everyone else, but they have one common quality - they want and know how to rejoice. Standing apart in the collection is the parable of the Nativity of Christ, where the action takes place in Palestine in a cold winter more than two thousand years ago, but there is also joy in it - the joy of the Nativity of Christ.

Impressions - rather none.

Son of the Leader
Its existence is one of the main secrets of the Soviet regime. His long life is a journey through torment: prisons, camps, psychiatric hospitals, lonely old age. His purpose is to repent for his cursed father and atone for his terrible guilt before the Lord and Russia.
Is Lenin's illegitimate son responsible for his Antichrist father? Will he be able to atone for his monstrous sins, so that the black soul of the Leader will find, if not forgiveness, then at least relief, and his cursed relics will finally rest in the earth?..

In this book, the author does not criticize communism/socialism, does not blaspheme our Soviet past, as is often the case now... It describes difficult human relationships, talks about the misfortune of one person... whether this person actually lived in the world or not - only the author knows... In my opinion, not Voznesenskaya’s best book

Asti Spumante. The first case of Countess Apraksina

The first book is about the adventures of Countess Apraksina, who helps the Munich police investigate the most brutal and complicated crimes among the Russian emigration. Like the legendary Miss Marple, written by Agatha Christie, for the Russian detective lover there are no unsolvable mysteries and no hopeless cases - incredible insight, knowledge of the “mysterious Russian soul” and faith in the High Court help her punish evil and restore justice.

Mermaid in the pool. The new case of Countess Apraksina

The Russian beauty dreamed of conquering Europe, and she was lucky - she ended up in Europe. But she got there - like a “mermaid in the pool”! Her lifeless body is discovered in a garden pond. What is it - an accident, suicide or murder? And if so, then who raised a hand against her? Or forced him to take his own life? Having accidentally found herself at the scene of the tragedy, Countess Apraksina undertakes to help the Munich police investigate this case.

One Hundred Days Before the Flood
The heroes of the story-parable “One Hundred Days Before the Flood” are Noah, his family and their contemporaries, who do not want reconciliation with God. The book is based on a biblical story, but this story is about our time, about you and me, and about whether we heed the warnings of Holy Scripture, or whether everything is repeating itself, as during the time of the Flood, when Noah called people to salvation for a hundred years, but they only responded animals.

Have you read books by Yulia Voznesenskaya? What mark did they leave on you?
I liked the last four books, I read them easily, but not a trace...

Yulia Voznesenskaya (real name Yulia Nikolaevna Okulova, née Tarapovskaya, September 14, 1940, Leningrad - February 20, 2015, Berlin) is a Soviet and Russian prose writer, poet of the Orthodox school.

She was born into the family of a military engineer, who after the war served in East Berlin, where Voznesenskaya lived from 1945 to 1950. Her father and mother were atheists, only at the end of their lives they converted to Orthodoxy. She studied at the Leningrad Institute of Theater, Music and Cinema, and was an active figure in informal art circles. In 1964, she was first sentenced to a year of forced labor.

In 1966 she began publishing her first poems, first in periodicals, then in samizdat. In 1973 she was baptized. Participated in organizing the action on December 14, 1975 on the square. Decembrists (Senate), in a number of demonstrations and hunger strikes of protest by nonconformist artists.

She spent literary evenings in her room in a communal apartment. In June 1976, she participated in the preparation of the first issue of the Watch magazine. She published poems in the magazines “Hours”, “37”, “Maria”, in the “samizdat” magazines “Grani”, “Third Wave”, “Vestnik RKhD”, “Posev” (including articles).

In 1980, she emigrated from the USSR with her two sons. Until 1984, she lived in Frankfurt am Main, then settled in Munich, where she worked at Radio Liberty.

In 1996-1999 she lived in the Lesna Convent of the Blessed Virgin Mary in France (ROCOR, Provemont, Normandy). There, with the blessing of Mother Superior Afanasia, she wrote the story-parable “My Posthumous Adventures.”

From 2002 to 2015 she lived in Berlin.

Voznesenskaya's later works are often called "Christian (or Orthodox) fantasy."

Books (7)

Cassandra's Way, or Adventures with Pasta

The book by Yulia Nikolaevna Voznesenskaya “The Path of Cassandra, or Adventures with Pasta” is a futuristic dystopian novel telling about the times of the reign of the Antichrist-False Messiah on earth.

The main character of the book, the girl Cassandra, revived for real life by the great miracle of love, overcomes many difficulties and finds her way to God. The story "Cassandra's Way" is another attempt to remind us that the end of the world will come, according to the Apostle Paul, when love becomes scarce and people become selfish, proud, arrogant, slanderous, ungrateful and cruel...

One Hundred Days Before the Flood

The heroes of the parable story “One Hundred Days Before the Flood” are Noah, his family and their contemporaries, who do not want reconciliation with God.

The book is based on a biblical story, but this story is about our time, about you and me, and about whether we heed the warnings of Holy Scripture, or whether everything is repeating itself, as during the time of the Flood, when Noah called people to salvation for a hundred years, but they only responded animals.

Julianna or the game of kidnapping

Dear readers! Here is the first book in the fairy-tale trilogy of the famous writer Yulia Voznesenskaya “Yulianna”. Two twin girls, Julia and Anya, are experiencing dangerous adventures that happened to them due to the fault of their stepmother-witch. It turns out that the world is full of dark forces that, at any cost, strive to force people to commit evil deeds. But faith in God and the intercession of Guardian Angels help the girls overcome all dangers. But “Julianna” doesn’t end there!

Chief's son

Its existence is one of the main secrets of the Soviet regime. His long life is a journey through torment: prisons, camps, psychiatric hospitals, lonely old age. His purpose is to repent for his cursed father and atone for his terrible guilt before the Lord and Russia.

Is Lenin's illegitimate son responsible for his Antichrist father? Will he be able to atone for his monstrous sins, so that the black soul of the Leader will find, if not forgiveness, then at least relief, and his cursed relics will finally rest in the earth?..

Julianna, or the Game of Daughters and Stepmothers

In the third book, stepmother Zhanna declares a real war on her stepdaughters, trying at any cost to drive the girls out of the world and get to their father’s money. She decides to resort to the help of her colleagues - the healer Agafya Tikhovna Pupovzorova, the psychic Zhora Magiliani and the witch Akhineya. But the governess Alexandra and the Guardian Angels of the two sisters miraculously appeared in their house and help the Julians defeat various evil spirits.

Goodness and justice triumph again, but perhaps this is not the end of the story...

Julianna, or Dangerous Games

The book is a continuation of Yu. Voznesenskaya's fairy-tale trilogy about twin girls Yulia and Anya. The first book of the trilogy is “Julianna, or the Kidnapping Game,” the second is “Julianna, or Dangerous Games.”

Book two tells the story of how Julia and Anya end up in a school of magic located in distant Ireland. Faith in God and the intercession of Guardian Angels help to overcome dangers and fight evil.

Reader comments

Anastasia/ 05/24/2017 A very good writer, at the age of 12 my mother’s friend, her son and I are the same age, lent me “Yulianna”. I read it in one sitting. Then I re-read it several times.
Now I’m 17 years old, I read “Cassandra” a few days ago (and have already managed to re-read it). Only “The Leader’s Son” seemed like a gloomy book to me.

Gagarin/ 11/25/2016 These are books for children, not even for teenagers! How can such naive writing be recommended for films aspiring to full cinemas? Who will gather in them? Is it just the mentally retarded, degrading generation of the post-Soviet territory, whose intelligence level does not reach the teenage level, according to the Soviet development scale: D

Natalia/ 11/24/2016 Good afternoon. I read Yu. Voznesenskaya’s books with great pleasure. Now I’m reading the “Julianna” trilogy, although I’m already 38 years old, but I really like the book. I would really like young directors to turn their attention to the books of Yu. Voznesenskaya. Full cinema halls are guaranteed. Russian answer to Harry Potter, etc.!

Alevtina/ 08/29/2016 I really wanted to meet and talk with you, now I’m crying because I wanted to tell you to help me write my story of “Clear Death” (suicide), no one should do this. I would like not to leave there, if anyone can write let them contact me, I need to write it in a book, I really wanted to meet Julia because I read her books and a lot of things coincide, but I saw more and I want to convey this to others so that I never no one committed suicide. GOD BLESS YOU ALL.

Tina/ 03/08/2016 A writer of a very subtle soul, her works truly leave light in the soul, and the main thing in them is not the beauty of speech, but the essence (by the way, speech perfectly conveys and creates images that are not similar to anyone else’s style).

Swordsman/ 02/17/2016 I started reading “Adventure with Pasta” and quit.
The language is poor. At first I thought that the author was a teenager, because... the poverty of language and jumping from description to description is characteristic of children.
The author is friendly with logic at times and does not bother to create consistency in the narrative.
Leavened ratriotism appears even in the story about another part of the world and the dystopian genre.
It’s not even worth talking about the author’s extreme religiosity, into which everything and everyone is adjusted, without the slightest adherence to logic and common sense.

Overall, it's gloomy. Restless.
Suitable for children's reading in families where Orthodox ultra-religiosity and a low educational level come together.

Evgeniy/ 02/5/2016 I confess that I was baptized late (at 62) and didn’t know very much about the church and its rules, however, thanks to Yulia Nikolaevna’s books, now, I confess, I am sadly reviewing my past life outside the church! Thank you very much! GOD BLESS YOU!

veronica/ 02/3/2016 I read my posthumous adventures at the age of 11, I remember I couldn’t move away from the book for a long time and constantly re-read it. True, at some points it was a little creepy. Then my mother brought home the Julian trilogy. It’s funny to watch, PDA I grew up with them. Girls at the time of the description of the events, they were 11 years old, and I remember then I was 10-11 years old, and I considered them so adults. And now I am 15 years old and I myself have not noticed how I have outgrown them, but these books remain with me to this day me.

Ebigail/ 01/13/2016 The book may seem like complete nonsense to some, but the book makes sense....
There is a different world there, different catastrophes, and it won’t be harmful for a child or an adult to plunge into another world for a second for someone in the future...

Svetlana/ 09/19/2015 The books are simply wonderful! After reading “Travels with Pasta” and “My Posthumous Adventures,” my eyes were opened to everything and helped me come to the Orthodox faith. I also really liked all the books "Julianna" and "100 Days Before the Flood". Yulia Voznesenskaya conveyed to us the teaching about God in an accessible form, because She herself was a believer. May she rest in heaven.

Irina/ 09/15/2015 I really liked the books.
First, I found out that my mother started listening to some story over the phone, “Lancelot’s Pilgrimage,” I was very interested in it and I asked to listen to it. At the beginning it was not clear to me (I was 10 years old), but as I continued listening to him I understood and I really liked him. I read both “Adventures with Pasta” and “My Posthumous Adventures” and really liked them. But I still listen to the story “Lancelot’s Pilgrimage” (I’m already 15). Thank you very much for these books. I will be re-reading your books for a very long time, they opened up a lot of new things for me and I think it’s better to tell children about God than to show films like Harry Potter. May God give you a long summer.

Julia/ 07/13/2015 It’s a pity that such a writer died. Her works are really very good, especially Kasandra and posthumous adventures

Evgeniya/ 07/06/2015 Books in one go!!! My posthumous ones..., Cassandra, Lancelot!!! God bless you for these books!!!..

Irina/ 06/19/2015 I read all the books about Julia and Anna, I liked the dangerous games the most, and you Sergei are wrong, Orthodoxy forbids Harry Potter!

Xenia/ 05/31/2015 The book “My Posthumous Adventures” is a revolution of consciousness for people who are not established in the Orthodox faith. A very powerful book. She leaves a mark on the soul. I read “Thank You for Your Love,” which was also interesting and imbued with the Orthodox spirit. I will read all of Yulia Nikolaevna’s books. By the way, in Kyiv, none of the bookstores or church shops sell Yulia Nikolaevna’s works. Can't guess why?