Zavtra nas pokhoroniat - Rigbi El

We're good at hiding. Like fairy-tale monsters, choose the darkest corners. Under bridges, in empty factories, in old trains.
We don't remember what a house is - we don't need it.
It was Christmas Eve, when as a gift our parents got death and we became a hunting object.
This is a novel about the blood-chilling mysteries and adventures of wild eternally young children, lost, desperate adults and the thinnest threads of human feelings.