The Horrifically Horrifying Horror Blog

The neatly-gentrified Mtsensk District plaster buckled in all the permitted places. With fashionable decay, the yellowing windows matched the grey-painted walls. A bare mattress laid in the center of the room. Its sagging middle reminded me of the hall guard outside.

It was a well-upholstered citizen’s slum, drawn to exacting state specifications. Local housing authorities recommended childless tenants. I bade myself welcome.

At once, I over-heated the flat with the help of Dmitri, a young neighbor. After five doses of vodka prescribed by my black marketeer, we spilled a sixth over our bodies. “Wise tovarishch rent their own fireside to raise a glass,” he said. Pointing to the lower half of his uniform, Dmitri whispered, “Drink there.”

Our sweat became a bourgeois fever. Using the floor like a towel, our fluids fraternized. Our rapture was a criminal act, as was our prayer afterward, said to contraband icons. Our bodies then…