The prison on street Skamilna, came time to receive monthly shipments guards were supposed to check whether innocent-looking cakes, or books, are items that can allow escape often dangerous criminals. One of the parcels was addressed only to the outpost, and did not have any clue as to a particular prisoner, which was to be delivered. Inside was (as it was easy to guess) cake. The guard was already too experienced to easily give baffle - so when the first cut, it is not found in the middle of anything suspicious, decided to take a closer look this little work of art confectionery - color light violet, with fancifully routed, cream-colored paths to the top. He found there finally a message written on a small sheet of yellow. It immediately threw him in the eye, that the message was not written gryps. In the rush to take a message to the head of the prison, who after reading, being as nervous mood, gave appropriate, consistent with the text of the recommendations. It's been a few days. The cell inhabited by two criminals on their faces vile, nasty and physiognomies, he came from the head of the new command prisoner. About his crimes seemed to be informed only of his new friends from the cell. This crime must have been about sexual, it was possible to infer the fate of the unfortunate fate exaggerated from the first day of the first hour of his stay.
The architect involved in the overall appearance of the place,  had harbored profound aversion to the cold walls of the typical institutions of this type, because he decided that the prison according to his plan, is built of wood. If his goal was to hide behind the walls the legend of hunger, violence and evil; if he wanted to decorate mousetrap in finest cheese to lure the victim to treat, the price is life, he certainly succeeded. From the outside very easily a building could be mistaken for a hotel or just a place to rent. The roof and windows were oriental-style wood made cozy feeling, encouraging visits. The building was located on a hill, was embedded firmly on stilts, and offered an interesting view of the houses, streets and lanterns at the bottom. It's probably the deceptive appearance caused that one cell, to which one pedophile gone, incidentally, with a relatively large size (about ten out of ten meters) was chosen as the location for our halfway party. "Our" is not quite the right word. No matter how hard I strained my eyes, and was turning look in all directions, I could not find any friendly, familiar face. There was Mariusz Piaskowski, my peer and friend, whose specialization was the second world war, and a penchant general understood militaristic, especially tanks. There was Marcin Ulam, positively me set comprehensively educated man, while retaining all common sense and impartial opinions on issues that interested him most. The first person in the room who was conspicuous was naked, and completely bloody man with a mangled face. He stood leaning against the wall in the corner, you could hear him wheezing, labored breathing. After his condition and the fact that despite his condition he was forced to stand next to him though was the bench, I knew that it is low status prisoner. On said bench, where it was still a lot of free space, were two men in tanktops, the prisoner, in which I recognized a person known by me last year on a school trip to the mountains. I remember when evening came after a day's walking, we finally came to the shelter and decided to light a fire and eat sausage to be well prepared for the night, which according to tradition youth trips, she had to take a long time. Deceived smell and enthusiastic exclamations, joined by a large stray dog, unless labrador, whose profuse drooling betrayed appetite for our dinner. In particular, he liked sausage hero of our story, the blond in tanktop. Each of us being on the spot, probably would break off a piece and gave the dog, but not him. He decided just to tease the animal . He  gave him a sausage for sniffing, let him lick, then he himself ate it alone in its entirety. My memories of the night after the event are very faded, but I am sure that abounded in equally bizarre situations that degenerated and confident blond man in the lead role. When sipping a little, my behavior becomes provocative, never a particularly vile or vulgar, but almost always controversial. Any of my behavior or words, I can not now remember myself what it was about, provoked blonde. He stood above me in the middle of the night, and a mocking tone began to threaten me. I was weaker than him and already pretty drunk, so I did not move from the spot, and my silence, conciliatory mood, or the reaction of friends quelling somehow situations. At the end of the night we smoked cigarettes together, and we appologized each other, but the next day we not speak a word to each other, what's more - I could hear the conversation in which the blond spoke of me, in a rather unfavorable manner. So you can imagine the initial fear when I recognized a dangerous criminal, and he recognized me. Moments later, came into the room a short man in a hood, which i also met before. His pseudomin "ant", due to the low growth; naturally aggressive, popular, unfavorable towards me, an acquaintance from the time of elementary school. I realized that I was in the vestibule of a nightmare - I am surrounded by enemies, no friends, no one who could protect me. I should disappear from here as soon as possible if i do not want the nightmare developed further. Passing along the corridor prison I've heard behind indiscriminate comments, sounds of smackingly kissing, the sounds of banging the bars.
When I walked through the parking lot, I was stopped by a history teacher. She asked if I am looking for my group. I did not know where to start to explain so simply confirmed. She asked me for the name, then according to the first letter, took me to another building, dressing up panels of light wood-free bars. In the middle of several of my peers talking among themselves. They looked ripped a parcel of friends, conversations full of obscure references were often interrupted by laughter. I did not know anyone. They seemed cheerful, but at the same time closed circle. My fears were confirmed when the boy arrived moments later, I knew by sight - school record holder in the running for a hundred meters. He was greeted with thunderous, enthusiastic shouts. They were too good compared to me. If only Mariusz Piaskowski was here ...

4.
The teacher continued to accompany me, I asked her if she is already known the place where will be prom. She replied that, yes, she spent the whole evening at a meeting of pedagogical (the very essense of cast - very popular among students English teacher, a physicist who is creator of the famous publication on the views Hawkins, historian behind the idea of ​​founding the popular organizations, engaged in the cultivation of Polish history, they were specialists in their areas, but despite this, they gave over their careers to the best universities, because they believed that  workwith a youth is the nobler), aimed at establishing the premises. She told me to follow her, if I want to learn the result of the vote
    At the foot of the mountain were two bicycles. The teacher sat down on one of them and she told me to go for it. Once moved, brunette that I saw for the first time on the eyes, she screamed at me, standing on the opposite sidewalk:

6.
-Hi! How old are you?
7.
-I 18 - on reflection, I said - and why did you ask?

8.
-I Have 25, and somehow we arent very different from each others! - she waved her hand and laughed again. Meanwhile, the woman for whose trace I follow, disappeared from view. I had to pedal harder, but it was very dark, a torch hooked in steering illuminate the road dim light. Worse, the curve sign "Road works", marked thickening nightmare. Several meters further down the road was littered with shovels, bulldozers, cement mixers. Maneuvered around them, i was loosing the speed. I lost track teachers, and lost all hope that I will find her in the night, suddenly I heard the familiar voice coming out of the bend leading to the left. Frightened, without thinking i pressed the lever of the front brake. I braked too sharply and flew over the handlebars. Nothing I did not moreover, did not feel a special pain, it  might that shock has not passed yet, and I had to go back out again - a teacher just laughed and drived out of the place. With Skamilnej turned on Radławską, then left on Polterbieską, down the street to the end and to the left, and we found ourselves again ... on Skamilnej, next to the prison on the hill. I asked her why we drove all this way, she only laughed. The journey finally ended up several meters from the hill, in the premises of the beating red neon glow. Place was characterized by three eccentricities, striking almost simultaneously. Parking was at an angle of 45 degrees, or even more, as if it was a trap, specially devised for drivers forgetting handbrake. With difficulty keeping up there with clenched brake lever, fearing that at some point, leaning back, and extremely tired, I will fall, i listened to the speech of a man's elegant tie, which seemed to greet each guest. Choice of words, or the same situation of host welcoming guests by speech in the middle of the night, it was not so strange as the subject of his speech. Well extremely excited, he was talking about the uniqueness of his restaurant. This unusual property was peculiar bringing a table and chairs, and more specifically - fixing them to the walls of the restaurant. The man melted directly brilliance of his idea, and at all costs he want to infect his elevation. "Just think - customers do not have to cross the threshold of the restaurant, if, for example, believe that it will bring them bad luck, they can enjoy dinner on the wall. Not only may even. Rather, sincerely I desire them to encourage this! What a comfort, just think! Not you have to go inside, you can eat out, just like that, from the sidewalk! What an unpretentious nod, in the direction of our time, momentum overcrowded. " Nervously listening to the words of a madman, I suddenly remembered that i once heard a similar story. I needed a few more minutes, to accurately locate it in the depths of memory, so the story of the restaurant, where tables and chairs were attached to the walls, entered the collection of short stories "The Legend of the Earth Skamilnej." I realized that just as the restaurant is not true, so also none of the events tonight are not necessarily true. Fiction replaced real memories that are too painful to accept, at the same time escape the fictions failed - stories began to twist and transform into a nightmare, to save me from losing touch with what is real. In fact, my halfway party was even worse than that night. I learned then what betrayal means of a friend, I learned what  rejection means ,. Prison remorse was worse for me than a prison with the most strict discipline, because it was real for me, compared to all the abominations that I knew only from photos. This reality reminded of himself that night, by the fact the impossibility to find my friends. My true halfway party took place a few years ago, and it was a traumatic experience, and it isolated me from peoples and caused fall into alcoholism. At the prom i had not turned up at all. These chairs are welded to the walls were impossible to reach the, the thought of it to sit on them was absurd. A similar absurd for me was the thought to get out of the house a few years ago, when I was constantly drunk and let down by the whole world. Now in this restaurant thinking about the duality of truth and figment mastered me, but not for long, reverie broke my throbbing hand, at the moment totally real, totally terrifying. I think hand was broken.

9.
    Just three years have passed since I have seen with my friend, Mariusz Piaskowskim