My stories

Northwind

North wind
Quietly rustles the branches,
Small house
Stands by the river.

There’s little boy
Holding his mother’s hand
He calls for her,
But his Mum is asleep.

Mum, you are sleeping,
And you’re dressed up
In snowy white
Unfamiliar dress.

There are strangers,
Reading the prayers,
Wax candles
Are brightly burning.

Candles are brightly burning.

Tell me, miss,
Why dad is crying.
Tell me, dad,
Why Mum is asleep.

Dad, come with me,
Play the piano,
I want my Mother
To be with us for ever.

No, my baby,
Mum is will not wake up.
Mum closed her eyes
For ever.

Tomorrow
She will be buried
And for ever
You’ll be an orphan.

Candles are brightly burning.

Time will pass,
You’ll invite to the house
Your young wife,
You’ll love her.

Time will pass,
But you won’t forget
Your beloved
Mother.

Will it ever stop hurting?

Now when I’m older, I realize how funny it was for a 17 yo guy to hang out with me, at the time 4 years ols. I was waiting for mum’s friend to pick me up when he came to me. A promising football player. He seemed to notice me a lot earlier that day, asked around & found out I was present at team’s training almost every week. Then he just came to say hello. Said he was a newbie & asked if I could show him some quiet nice places. I cartainly did (also showed how to make puppy eyes to get candies in the canteen). That’s how it all began.

My mum loved him, still does, she thought it’d be nice for me to have an older guy to look up to, since she raised me alone. In a few years She stormed into my life… firstly, as his girlfriend. Wise woman, 17 years older than me, became my role model soon after we met. The image of perfect family, supporting me through good times and the bad. They got married, he became kinda famous. The local Beckham couple - they were called. 2 kids, perfect family, him - successfull footballer, her - music producer.

March 16, 2011. The next day - one football game for him, one Birthday of the member of the music group for her. It was decided to hold the party a day earlier. Shame I couldn’t go - studying for the test next morning. As far as I heard from phone calls, the party was fun. She always made sure everyone went home safe. Once I was stuck in the middle of nowhere at 3am, she drove 2.5 hours to pick me up. That night she offered a ride for one drunk guy. Never drank herself before driving…

March 17, 2011. Waking up at 5:30 isn’t very pleasant experience. I was having breakfast, watching the news… heard about traffic accident at night. The blue Bentley hit a snowbank, flew 150 meters and slammed into a tree. Something was just not right. They showed a car - just like hers. Immediate call to make sure she was at home, but I couldn’t reach neither her or him. Called her brother, he said he just heard bout the accident and was heading there, still not knowing if it was her car. He said he would call me as soon as he finds out. Just to make sure she was ok & safe at home.

Tick tock.
Couldn’t have breakfast, strange feeling like I was missing something.
Tick tock.
Why nobody answered when I called?
Tick tock.
She got her car for the Birthday less than a year ago. The ONLY blue Bentley in the city.
Tick tock.
One simple text from her brother: “Couldn’t be saved”.
That’s when my world stopped.

I keep dreaming. If it wasn’t for that bloody test I’ve never written anyway, I would be at the party. She would drive me home. Through that road. Through that turn which is dangerous even in the daylight, even in summer when there are no snowbanks blocking the view.

I have no idea why I am writing this. Probably losing 3 close friends through the last couple of months has shaken me more that I thought. But I still have a guy to look up to. He was in the game 2 days after the funeral. Angry, desperate, but life goes on. Something I should learn one day. Learn from him, look up to him, like I always did. It must be simple to let go. The most beautiful family I’ve ever seen now has 3 members. The group she was producing has fallen apart. That sucks, pissed me off but it’stheir choice and I respect it, no matter how I disagree. Anger won’t bring her back, just let go and live on.

My stories usually end with miracles. It’s not a fairy tale and there won’t be one. I don’t believe in miracles.

Goodbye, Marina. You will be remembered. My hero, my role model. Goodbye.

A lottery ticket.

9:00 am. The first class for a day was starting. Biology. Mendel’s laws, hard and boring. Gaby, of course, did not have time to do her homework – how could she, when she spent the whole evening arguing with her boyfriend. Josh was a good, reliable guy, but, my God, how predictable and boring he was! He had everything planned: growing up, getting married, graduating from high school, finding a good job, giving birth to children… Phew, boring! He did not understand her creative soul, her desire to shine, dreams to become a famous actress, famous throughout the world. He said it was silly - hoping to enter a drama school just because she was a diva in some local theater. What a fool! What did he know about art! Wasn’t she the best Juliet in the history of their school theater?
“O Romeo, Romeo,
wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name,
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet…”

When Gaby, while on stage, was reading it, some girls were crying. And still Josh did not believe in her talent… Well, he could go to hell. He would be useless on her way to a great future.

With a school bag in hand, Gaby hesitated for a moment over the familiar words “Gaby + Josh = Love,” and then sat down at the next desk.
- Nick, would you mind if I sat with you?
- No, of course not! - The guy’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. - And what about Josh?
- I’m tired of him. Boring. Done with him. – The girl looked over her shoulder with indifferent face, only to see shocked Josh.

They were not talking even after graduation from high school. Josh went to the local college to study mechanics. And Gaby went to the big city to enter a drama school. She entered. Plumbing training courses. Two years later, she returned to her hometown with big belly. The guy she had dated for the past few months had serious intentions, they even talked about wedding. But as soon as he heard of Gaby’s pregnancy, he disappeared. Oh well. Gaby’s mum raised her without a father, so they could handle the baby by themselves. Gaby named her boy Josh. A good name. Shame that her mum didn’t get to know the baby well – she died when he was only a year old. When Josh was three, he was diagnosed with diabetes. No one in Gaby’s family was diabetic, so that was a gift from his father. Oh right, there had to be at least something from him…

At first, of course, it was hard. Then she adjusted. Gaby got a job at a local plumber, on the weekends she was a cleaner in a wealthy family. Her son grew serious. Perhaps because of illness, or maybe it was just his nature… He taught himself how to do injections of insulin when Gaby was not home. He warmed up food for himself, tidied up their flat. Gaby only cooked what Josh could eat because of his diet, thinking that cooking something different for herself would be dishonest, plus they didn’t have much money. Gaby became thinner and thinner, started buying clothes on sales. Her skin, once soft, turned gray and coarse. Her face was now covered with wrinkles. Her hair was dull. She didn’t have money for cosmetics. And so Gaby slowly turned into a twenty-seven old woman, looking like she was in her forties. She didn’t have time for personal life or entertainment – just housework, kid, work…

But sometimes she opened an old box, hidden in the dresser, and found a program from the play “Romeo and Juliet”… She reread the list of actors for a thousandth time, stopping at her name, written the very first, and silently shook her head. Her life has gone through her hands like sand.

***
Gaby was walking home with six kilos of slightly rotten apples. Of course they were not the best, but she was given a discount. She wanted to make some jam from them. Gaby was happy, so even heavy bags seemed weightless. Suddenly, someone responded to her absent-minded smile. There was a spark of recognition in his eyes.
- Gaby!
- Josh… Hello.

Oh Lord, he almost did not change… Even at his age he looked boyish, only 2 little girls with him showed that some years has passed.

He picked up her bags with apples and walked Gaby home. The girls were walking alongside, wondering about how this pale woman knows their father. On their way, Josh told that he had a small business of repairing cars. Married five years ago, the girls were born… “And how are you? You look very thin…” “No, no, all is well, Josh - she smiled shyly and desperately hoped that the man did not notice her old clothes. - Family, work… My son is eight years old. He’s successful, the best student in the class.” “Well, ok then… I thought I would die when you left me. Every night I dreamed about you returning and asking for forgiveness, saying that it all was a silly joke … But you never returned. And here I am, you see, I survived. For the best, probably?”

That evening, Gaby cried for the first time in many years. Her son was scared - he had never seen his mother in tears.
- Mum, why are you crying, mum?! Everything will be fine, you know. I’ll grow up to earn a lot of money, we’ll live better! Don’t think that I’m sick, so I can’t work. I am strong! I will work! Just do not cry, mum, please. I love you, mum…

***
- Girl, wait a sec! Take a lottery ticket, try it!

Gaby looked at the young man who handed her a completely blank piece of cardboard. She did not have time to open her mouth to politely refuse, as the boy continued:
- I know that you don’t have money, but it’s totally free. Special offer - only for you. It’s an opportunity to come back for ten minutes at any moment of your past and try to fix something in it. You only need to write the exact date and time of arrival and departure - within ten minutes and throw it into the nearest trash - and you’ll find yourself in the past. Is it interesting? I know you think I’m crazy. Believe me, I would not offer it if I did not know you want it more than anything else. Is that right? - He looked at her closely, put a ticket in hand, and disappeared.

Hallucinations from constant malnutrition? Gaby shook her head, closed her eyes and then opened them again. She still had that ticket in her hand. She did not even need to think about where she wanted to go. Gaby remembered the day when she sat with Nick for the first time. The biggest mistake in her life. A terrible mistake. She dreamt about it yesterday, sobbing after her meeting with Josh, to be transferred to a decade ago and fix it? And how did the weird guy know about it? She wrote the date and time: 8.55-9.05am. Then she folded the ticket and threw it in a trash.

…Gaby realized she was wearing a blue jacket, which she wore in her last year of high school! And the same bag on her shoulder. And right in front of her – the school, where the biology lesson would start shortly. She had ten minutes to fix the past. Now she would go to the class, sit next to Josh, apologize for the day before, say that her idea to enter a drama school was foolish. And all things in life would go differently. There would be no poverty, nor the dirty floors in a posh house on Sundays, nor hopeless solitude, nor… son?..

“Mum, why are you crying, mum?! Everything will be fine, you know.” - Echoed in her head. Slender shoulders, sharp knees, pale face, serious gray eyes and the Universe in them. Her personal Universe…

9:00am. The first class for a day was starting. Biology. With a school bag in hand, Gaby hesitated for a moment over the familiar words “Gaby + Josh = Love,” and then sat down at the next desk.

A father for Bradley.

Bradley didn’t have a father. Almost everybody in the kindergarten had, but he didn’t. He felt hurt. Every evening, drearily waiting for nanny, Bradley watched how other kids’ fathers came and took away Julia, Adam, Luke, Sophie, Emma, Andy… Their fathers were big and kind. They happily picked their kids up in the arms, helped them to get dressed. Nanny didn’t help Bradley. And didn’t pick him up, and didn’t ruffle his hair… She just stood nearby, with her lips pursed, while he hurriedly got dressed, and then she led him home, squeezing the child’s palm into the iron grip of long, thin fingers. With these fingers she once earned fame in the international piano concerts, but that time has gone, the glory has faded, and all that was left of the former famous pianist - students, practicing scales in the morning and Bradley from seven to nine in the evening.

The nanny was not unkind. She never yelled at Bradley, never called him names or punished without a reason. But every time looking into her icy eyes, the boy was frightened to death. He wanted to be tiny, completely invisible, crawl away and hide under the sofa. When he was alone, he called his nanny a Snow Queen. Bradley was terrified that she could turn his heart into a piece of ice.

At nine, his mum always came and evil disappeared. More than anything else Bradley loved this moment. He ran out of the room and hugged his mum tightly. His mother smelled like warm cinnamon biscuits, that she bought at a supermarket nearby almost every day, and also something else vaguely-cozy, home, unique – only mothers can smell like that and no one else in the world.

The Snow Queen, apparently afraid to melt from the heat brought by Bradley’s mother, usually hastily said goodbye, picked up her purse in the hallway and left. It was the happiest time for Bradley – him and mum sat in the kitchen, drinking tea with biscuits, telling each other about everything that happened during the day. Mum sometimes complained about her strict chief, for whom she worked as a reviewer (the boy was very fond of this beautiful word, though not yet learned how to pronounce it - the letter “r” was still difficult to say). Bradley recounted in details what he ate in the kindergarten for breakfast, lunch and dinner, what a cool robot he made using LEGO, how he played snowballs, accidentally hitting Annie, and how she hit him back, laughing. And Bradley told many other interesting and important things, eating tasty cinnamon biscuits. His mother listened attentively, smiling, sometimes shaking her head.

After that he lay in bed, comfortably curled up under a warm blanket, and listened to the tales his mum was reading to him about mysterious and unpredictable Mary Poppins, who was so not like his Snow Queen, about the brave Peter Pan and the evil Captain Hook … Mum was reading with enthusiasm - Bradley knew that she wondered what would happen next as much as he did.

Most of all he loved to listen to the tale about the strongest girl in the world Pippi Longstocking - as she lived alone in her house, played with Tommy and Annika, and one day her dad came from traveling and took her with him to the island. Bradley dreamed that someday his dad would come and take them away to the island … or would just live with them and bring the boy home from the kindergarten, hugging him tightly. Of course Bradley told his mum about his dreams, but she just sighed and smiled sadly. “Hey, is it so bad – just the two of us? After all, we’re friends, right? And we do not need anyone else.” The boy just nodded - he did not want to upset his mother, but, closing his eyes and sinking into sleep, he couldn’t stop thinking about the mysterious island with palm trees and a funny dad in a striped shirt who would play with him and tell stories about pirates.

Sometimes other fathers came with their wives and children. Mum, dressed beautifully, put fine plates and glasses on the table. All guests were happy. Bradley, looking enthusiastically into their laughing eyes, climbed to their shoulders. He wanted so much that one of them said he would now be Bradley’s dad… But very soon the boy saw all men taking the hands of their sons and daughters, going home. Bradley and his mum were alone again with the kitchen full of dirty dishes.

One day something extraordinary happened: his mother came home not alone, but with a man. The man with embarrassed smile said hello and handed Bradley a small car. Bradley stopped playing these cars three years ago, but he didn’t tell the man about it and even tried to smile - his mother always taught him that he should be thankful for gifts.

Then the three of them drank tea with biscuits in the kitchen, and mum with this man were talking about something not very clear to Bradley. “Will you be my dad?” - asked Bradley, gathering up all his courage. The man suddenly coughed. Bradley carefully tapped him on the back, but the man suddenly hurried home and left. He never appeared in their flat afterwards.
The boy was terribly upset. Did he, Bradley, do something wrong? But his mother said he had nothing to blame himself for. “Some men are very afraid of responsibility. And this one was scared too. So we’re not the people he needed. And we don’t need him either.”

The word “responsibility”, having letter “r”, was very difficult for Bradley. But most importantly, he understood - not all the men, even if they came home with mum and gave him gifts, wanted to become fathers.

***
All great ideas are simple. How didn’t he realize sooner?! Christmas is soon - the time when any miracle can happen. He only needed to ask Santa! So Bradley wrote him a letter “Dear Santa, can you please give me a father for Christmas? That’s all I want. Thank you.” He wouldn’t tell anyone about this letter. Mum, of course, would ask what he wanted from Santa Claus, and Bradley would lie that it was the new Harry Potter film and the video game.

December, 24 Bradley sneaked into his bed early, dreaming that in the morning he would hear his dad’s voice. But when he woke up he could hear nothing but silence. The boy searched through the whole flat and didn’t find his father. In desperation, he walked up to the Christmas tree and saw the bag. Inside of it there was “Harry Potter” film, a video game, a chocolate rabbit and a lot of sweets in colorful wrappers. Bradley felt the tears running down his cheeks. His world just collapsed - Santa Claus was a liar.
- Hey, what’s wrong?! – His mum was worried.
- Santa Claus … cheated … asked for the dad and he … disk, game - why all this? Where is dad? Mum, he is a liar! Santa Claus is a liar!
His mother picked the boy up and put him on the sofa. She sat next to her son and looked into Bradley’s eyes seriously.
- Santa Claus is not a liar. He is a good magician. He can arrange a holiday, bring gifts to the house, but he’s unable to gift a living person. People meet, fall in love – even a magician cannot force it.
- What about … what about miracles?
- We organize miracles by ourselves! Ask me now about anything – I can’t give you a dad tonight, but something else –I will try. Do you want to go to the cafe tomorrow, eat ice-cream? Or to the circus? Or to the ice-rink? Or to this stupid McDonalds?
- You said that food there is unhealthy.
- Unhealthy, of course. But once a year it is ok.
- I want … Mum, I want the Snow Queen to never return! I am afraid that she will kidnap me.
- What Snow Queen? What do you mean?
- My nanny – she’s like the Snow Queen, haven’t you noticed?
- Oh… my dear, why did you never say she scared you!? I thought she was so quiet and calm and you liked her … Of course I’ll find another nanny, not like a Snow Queen!

***
Bradley with his mother went to the circus, and McDonalds, and the skating rink. They watched “Harry Potter” together. And when weekends were over and Bradley went back to the kindergarten, the Snow Queen wasn’t there to lead him home, the young Sally was there. Bradley befriended Sally quickly - she played lottery with him, and hide-and-seek, and made a spacecraft with LEGO. The boy did not notice immediately that his mother started to come home later than usual and sometimes even ask Sally to sit with him on the weekends. Something has changed – she stopped complaining about the boss and was always smiling.
- Mum, why are you so happy lately? – Bradley asked one day.
- I think that Santa Claus is really capable of miracles, - she replied jokingly.
One evening, when Bradley was playing outside with Sally, building a snowman, an unfamiliar voice called him. The boy raised his eyes and saw his mother with a tall guy.
- This is Bradley. And this is Alex.
- Well, nice to meet you, Bradley.
The boy shyly shook a huge palm. He had a question on the tip of his tongue, but Bradley did not ask it, remembering the other man’s reaction. And then Alex said:
- Well, we said hello, now it’s time for important question. Bradley, would you mind mind if I became your father?

They were playing together in the snow all day, laughing happily. It was the best day in Bradley’s life.

The next year Bradley will ask Santa for a sister. Or a brother - he hasn’t yet decided. Or perhaps both at the same time?

The wrong tale.

There is a dark city behind a glass wall. There are lanterns behind a glass wall. They are whispering. They are talking about people. They are telling tales. Tales about villains and witches, hellhounds and domestic cats, princes and healers, wanderers and knights. Strange tales, that people will never hear. Wrong tales from people’s point of view.

The city is captured by the fall. The city is full of dampness. Wet umbrellas have invaded the city. It’s still summer in a glass cave. Dampness can’t invade the glass cave. Because in the glass cave there is a sleeping… no, not a princess. It’s the wrong tale. In the glass cave there is a sleeping knight. He’s covered with network of small wires and tubes. Vital signs monitors would catch the slightest glimpses of consciousness, but there aren’t any. The knight is asleep. Ash blond hair is almost merging with a pillow. Grey eyes are closed. Hands are lying helplessly on a blanket. The knight is asleep.

- Second degree of toxic coma. I’m sorry.
- What is it caused by?
- An overdose of Phenobarbital. It’s a miracle that he survived.
- Is there hope?
- There is always hope.
- Doctor, I have no desire to joke.
- Who told you that I’m joking? There is always hope, but he has small chances. 7% that he wakes up, all the rest that coma goes into a deeper phase. If only we realized sooner…

If only. Subjunctive, the past tense. The most terrifying term for a human. Things not done, words not spoken, opportunities missed. If only.

The knight is asleep. A prince will not come for the knight. And the princess will not come, either. But every evening, when the city is preparing for sleep and the lights are dim in the echoing corridors of the concrete mountain, the wanderer comes to the glass cave. The wanderer doesn’t have posh or poor clothes. Instead of staff she has an umbrella. The wanderer leaves the umbrella at the door and pauses for a moment, gathering the courage to make these five steps to a lodge of the knight and take another look at his face. Strange wanderer, who thought she was never wrong.

- What happened to you?
- I do not know… A bit dizzy… Maybe it’s the new medicine they are giving me.
- Come on.
- Where?
- Not far from here. You need to sleep.

It’s hard to walk. The boy is trying to go smoothly, but the world is spinning. The only reliable thing is a strong supporting hand of the best friend. And the boy is almost hanging on his companion.

- We have arrived. That’s it. Lie down.

16 year old guy closes his eyes. He’s no longer seeing anything, he’s no longer thinking. He can only obey safe hands and gentle voice.

The knight is asleep. The wanderer is standing beside the sleeping knight. The wanderer blames herself. After all, it was all so simple, so obvious that it was difficult not to notice. But she allowed herself to believe a stupid theory and the knight did not wake up. The knight of justice. The knight with a slightly tired smile and golden sparks of laughter in his eyes. The wanderer hesitantly takes the knight’s hand in her palms. It requires more courage than the five steps to the bed. Her cold fingers are warmed by his warm skin. The wanderer feels like a thief, stealing some warmth from the unconscious body.

- Your hands are always so warm. Forgive me. I made a mistake and realized it too late. Sorry.

The knight is asleep. The wanderer keeps his hand in her palms. Phenobarbital. So simple. Streaming way too fast to his veins. It was hard to accept that nothing more could be done. The wanderer sighs wearily, and carefully lowers a weak hand on a blanket. She caresses his cheek with her warmed fingers.

- Wake up, please. So many mornings come and go but you’re still sleeping.

But the knight is asleep. And the wanderer goes to the door bowing her head. Lamps, sisters of streetlights, are flashing angrily behind her. They are not satisfied with the wanderer. But she does not notice it. She picks up her umbrella and exits the glass cave. The sad wanderer. The silly wanderer. The one, who has forgotten all the right wise tales that mother read to her as a child.

In the car at the foot of the concrete mountain there is a fairy. She looks up, when the wanderer enters the car.

- No improvement.

The fairy is sad, the knight is her friend.

- He will wake up. – The wanderer says stubbornly.
- He will. - Agrees the fairy. - In the tales a princess always wakes up.
- He is not a princess.
- No. But maybe, he is also waiting for her prince or maybe the princess.
- I do not believe in tales. – The wanderer wearily rubs her nose.
- Sometimes it does not matter what we believe in.

The car rushes through the darkness. Lights are shining angrily on her. The sad wanderer peers into the night outside. Lights go out in front of the machine. The car stops.

- I’m going back to my knight.

The fairy hid a smile behind her hair.

A decision is made. The road back seems much shorter. And happy lights are shining at full power. Five steps from door to bed are not scary. The wanderer sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for the hand of the knight.

- Wake up, please. I need you.

Mad hope for a miracle in her eyes. And the gentle touch of lips. But the knight is asleep. Miracle hasn’t happened. Wrong story, as always.

The wanderer exits, forgetting the umbrella by the door. She does not believe in miracles.

- Call from the hospital. Yesterday you forgot your umbrella.
- Is that all?
- No. The doctor said that the state of your friend changed. A good chance that he could wake up in a few days.

There is a dark city behind a glass wall. There are lanterns behind a glass wall. They are whispering. They are talking about people. They are telling tales. Tales about villains and witches, hellhounds and domestic cats, princes and healers, wanderers and knights. Strange tales, that people will never hear. Wrong tales from people’s point of view.

The city is captured by the fall. The city is full of dampness. Wet umbrellas have invaded the city. It’s still summer in a glass cave. Dampness can’t invade the glass cave. In the glass cave the knight and the wanderer are playing chess.

Because even the wrong tales should have happy endings.

——————————————————————————————-

This story is written 2 years ago for my knight. Based on true events.