01-27-2014, 01:41 PM
The Central Park of Rest and Culture was named after Mister Gorky, and referred to in all the tourists books as Gorky Park, and was one of the most famous places in Moscow.
Laid out in 1928, this was the first park of its kind, and the prototype for hundreds of others across the Soviet Union. It stretches along the southern banks of the Moscow River adjacent to the Zamoskvoreche neighborhood, and was divided into two parts.
The first was primarily of interest to children or those trying to entertain them, as it contained a range of funfair rides and rollercoasters - some safer looking than others. Indeed this was the case. During the midday hours, children and caretakers of all kinds filled the park. There were people there that reminded him of the young nanny pushing her stroller toward the shadow of the London Tower Bridge. Yes, Gorky Park was going to be the next canvas for Mockingbird's artistry.
During warmer months, his guide suggested visitors should hire boats or horses, go bungee jumping, or attend the sports club's tennis courts. In winter the whole area became a vast skating rink with skate hire, disco lights and music to match. The guide spoke true, some blocks behind him, he'd spent a quarter-hour watching skaters glide like swans across the ice.
In as much as surveying Gorky Park for his purposes, there was still the other, older, half of the park that drew his particular interest. It was considerably more restrained, consisting of formal gardens and woodland that combined the former Golitsynskiy and Neskuchniy Gardens, names that cropped up regularly in Russian literary classics. What fun was it to visit the real world inspirations for what any young man of education might read in the tales of bygone eras.
In this part of the park there were a number of fine, old buildings dating from the late 18th and early 19th Centuries, including two summerhouses by the great Moscow architect Mikhail Kazakov - supposedly the same man who designed the Senate Building in the Kremlin and the first City Hospital. Nearby was the enormous Green Theater, an outdoor amphitheater that hosts various gigs and concerts in the summer months. It was mostly abandoned in winter.
Sculptures, the Graveyard of Fallen Monuments, and the House of Artists were places Dane might like to revisit during open hours, but trespassing at night was only for one specific purpose.
He wanted to visit the park to honor its fame of greatest reknown: thanks to an author of the 20th century, Martin Cruz Smith's grizzly tale of a psychopathic professor put Gorky Park as a frequent scene of murder, and the Hollywood film it inspired. In his novel, three corpses who have had their faces and fingertips cut off by the murderer to prevent identification were found in Gorky Park. Specifically, just ahead of where Dane now walked.
Although the path had been cleared of accumulation recently, his footsteps still crunched on the bit of snow. Trees blocked out the moon overhead, so the lighting was dim, but beams of light from the distant street poked through. He was growing cold, having walked the near three-quarters mile to get to the exact location from where his driver dropped him off back at the more populated attractions in the distant behind. He pulled his cap low, but thankfully the wind was quiet. The short blades of his hair did not so much as wisp around his brow, nor the fringe on his scarf flutter against his wool coat.
The place where the corpses in the novel were found was off path, quite obviously. It would be foolish to dump bodies in the middle of the most public scene. They need time to rest before discovery. How else would they have time to grow bloated and maggoty? An excited smile grew as he approached the famous scene - oh how he wished to sit there and imagine himself as Chief Investigator Arkady Renko as he discovered the bodies - so imagine his shock and pleasure when he was but steps from the GPS-marked location and he came across literal treasure.
Two bodies were lain broken and scorched in the snow. At first Dane thought this was some extra-realistic monument, but when he knelt alongside - careful not to touch - his heart pound wild and thrilled.
He thrust himself upright, and scanned as much as he could of the scene, but there was not a soul in sight. So he licked his lips and retreated to hide in the darkness of the wooded area and wait to see what happened, if anything.
While he waited, all thoughts of winter dissipated. His skin sizzled with excitement nearly as hot as his imagination crafted who and what had happened to these beautiful dead. When he heard another's approach, he was careful to keep himself hidden, but was privy to witness the dumping of a third! glorious corpse. Together the three bodies had been grown men when alive, moderately built and none slender as a feather. However the one responsible for their abandonment, Dane did not presume him to be the murderer however much he hoped, was likewise heavily built. He must be to have carried three limp corpses by hand.
He was too excited by the discovery to not reveal himself. As soon as the individual gathered his thoughts, Dane stepped out of his hiding place, and casually approached the scene. The man heard his footfalls, but Dane was not attempting to be discreet any more.
He held his hands aloft as though signaling peace, but there was a smile plastered to his face that revealed his true mood.
"Greetings, stranger. It appears as though you've had an unfortunate accident.. or three."
Dane's British accent was elegant and musical, as lovely and innocent as his gentlemanly appearance.
Laid out in 1928, this was the first park of its kind, and the prototype for hundreds of others across the Soviet Union. It stretches along the southern banks of the Moscow River adjacent to the Zamoskvoreche neighborhood, and was divided into two parts.
The first was primarily of interest to children or those trying to entertain them, as it contained a range of funfair rides and rollercoasters - some safer looking than others. Indeed this was the case. During the midday hours, children and caretakers of all kinds filled the park. There were people there that reminded him of the young nanny pushing her stroller toward the shadow of the London Tower Bridge. Yes, Gorky Park was going to be the next canvas for Mockingbird's artistry.
During warmer months, his guide suggested visitors should hire boats or horses, go bungee jumping, or attend the sports club's tennis courts. In winter the whole area became a vast skating rink with skate hire, disco lights and music to match. The guide spoke true, some blocks behind him, he'd spent a quarter-hour watching skaters glide like swans across the ice.
In as much as surveying Gorky Park for his purposes, there was still the other, older, half of the park that drew his particular interest. It was considerably more restrained, consisting of formal gardens and woodland that combined the former Golitsynskiy and Neskuchniy Gardens, names that cropped up regularly in Russian literary classics. What fun was it to visit the real world inspirations for what any young man of education might read in the tales of bygone eras.
In this part of the park there were a number of fine, old buildings dating from the late 18th and early 19th Centuries, including two summerhouses by the great Moscow architect Mikhail Kazakov - supposedly the same man who designed the Senate Building in the Kremlin and the first City Hospital. Nearby was the enormous Green Theater, an outdoor amphitheater that hosts various gigs and concerts in the summer months. It was mostly abandoned in winter.
Sculptures, the Graveyard of Fallen Monuments, and the House of Artists were places Dane might like to revisit during open hours, but trespassing at night was only for one specific purpose.
He wanted to visit the park to honor its fame of greatest reknown: thanks to an author of the 20th century, Martin Cruz Smith's grizzly tale of a psychopathic professor put Gorky Park as a frequent scene of murder, and the Hollywood film it inspired. In his novel, three corpses who have had their faces and fingertips cut off by the murderer to prevent identification were found in Gorky Park. Specifically, just ahead of where Dane now walked.
Although the path had been cleared of accumulation recently, his footsteps still crunched on the bit of snow. Trees blocked out the moon overhead, so the lighting was dim, but beams of light from the distant street poked through. He was growing cold, having walked the near three-quarters mile to get to the exact location from where his driver dropped him off back at the more populated attractions in the distant behind. He pulled his cap low, but thankfully the wind was quiet. The short blades of his hair did not so much as wisp around his brow, nor the fringe on his scarf flutter against his wool coat.
The place where the corpses in the novel were found was off path, quite obviously. It would be foolish to dump bodies in the middle of the most public scene. They need time to rest before discovery. How else would they have time to grow bloated and maggoty? An excited smile grew as he approached the famous scene - oh how he wished to sit there and imagine himself as Chief Investigator Arkady Renko as he discovered the bodies - so imagine his shock and pleasure when he was but steps from the GPS-marked location and he came across literal treasure.
Two bodies were lain broken and scorched in the snow. At first Dane thought this was some extra-realistic monument, but when he knelt alongside - careful not to touch - his heart pound wild and thrilled.
He thrust himself upright, and scanned as much as he could of the scene, but there was not a soul in sight. So he licked his lips and retreated to hide in the darkness of the wooded area and wait to see what happened, if anything.
While he waited, all thoughts of winter dissipated. His skin sizzled with excitement nearly as hot as his imagination crafted who and what had happened to these beautiful dead. When he heard another's approach, he was careful to keep himself hidden, but was privy to witness the dumping of a third! glorious corpse. Together the three bodies had been grown men when alive, moderately built and none slender as a feather. However the one responsible for their abandonment, Dane did not presume him to be the murderer however much he hoped, was likewise heavily built. He must be to have carried three limp corpses by hand.
He was too excited by the discovery to not reveal himself. As soon as the individual gathered his thoughts, Dane stepped out of his hiding place, and casually approached the scene. The man heard his footfalls, but Dane was not attempting to be discreet any more.
He held his hands aloft as though signaling peace, but there was a smile plastered to his face that revealed his true mood.
"Greetings, stranger. It appears as though you've had an unfortunate accident.. or three."
Dane's British accent was elegant and musical, as lovely and innocent as his gentlemanly appearance.
