2012.Winter.Winter, but rather mild weather.As usuall I was hurrying to the yard where all my friends were waiting for me.While coming down the stairs I came into collision with an old man.I turned to opologize and suddenly was struck dumb.The man`s face was so familiar to me.But at the same time I convinced myself that it`s impossible.I couldn`t belive my eyes.
While I was quarreling with my thoughts the man said,"Yes,yes, don`t be surprised, you are right,
I`m Charles Dickens born on Friday, February 7, 1812, in the English seaport of Portsmouth city.The
second child and eldest son of Elizabeth and John Dickens was born.I was christened Charles John Huffam Dickens.As you see,I live in your neighbourhood.You ask me why? It`s a long story,you
know? Connected with my father`s job we had to change our moved to London, then to Chatham a bustling port on England southeast coast,where I got education to a priest and left one of London schools.I continued my education in the British library-reading and reading contnually.
I had a dream to become a journalist.And what about you? I mean the young, who waist the whole day in front of the computer.Of course,I have nothing against the internet, it has many advantages, there you can find any information you want .For example you recognized me from my picture, set in"DASARAN.AM" Yes,yes,I`m aware of it all-you started to be interested in myself and my works only later.
Do you know what a hard childhood I had? looking back on my childhood I see"a very small and not over particularly-taken-care-of boy."But worse was to come when on February 20, my father was arrested for debt. I started to earn living when was at your age.Each evening, young Charles returned alone to his lodgings in Camden Town,a three-mile walk from Warren`s Blacking factory.I can`t find any consoling word to describe my sufferings.In spite of my age, I was working sixteen hours a day.
So tell the truth, I don`t like to remember that period of my life.So let it be a my and your small secret,please.Don`t tell your friends about it.
Now,you may think,that all my life was filled with pain and sufferings,but no...I had good friend who helped me I`m proud of them .
Richard Beantly:A publisher, who suggested me to become the editor of the every-month magazine.Before it I was working on "Pickwick club papers" book.In 1837 I started to write"The adventure of Oliver Twist."You see,from that time on a period of success started for me,and that very ,, small and not over-particulary-taken-care-of boy" grew into a young man, who through the sheer fertility of his creative genious and on astonishing amount of hard work,transformed himself into the most famous writer of his age.My works were full of poor and crazy heroes.Some critics,of course, were grumbling,but I paid no attention.
So, Dickens was telling his life, and I had such a feeling as if everything had happened to me,I panitrated into his life.It was so interesting,I was so fascinated that didn`t even noticed that my telephone was ringing in my pocket."Your telephone is ringing,"said Dickens.I came to myself and opened my eyes.
In fact, there was no Dickens in front of me.It was just an illusion.
Later on it turned out that going down,I hit not an old man, but the stairs and lost my consciousness.And the meeting with Dickens took place during my unconscious state.
But everything was so natural, as if I was still with him.I wanted to close my eyey in order to see him again.
I wish it would be reality.

In my story i used Internet and "The adventures of Oliver Twist".