“Dinner!” - a loud peal of a voice filled a premise.
Now they will be fetched skilly bowls - gray-greenish liquid with disgusting taste. However, a piece of bread was applied to this liquid, and that was already fine.
This should suffice for approximately five-six hours. And then once again something similar will be brought to them - to that they don’t die from hunger. And so it goes on for a day, a month, a year … Nineteen years - nineteen long years he should remain here. Nineteen twentieth of his term.
Here comes the inspector. Now a food would be brought - he will sate himself with this pity piece of bread and a bowl of liquid stinking of slops and feel easier.
His organism will take many days to heal its wounds … It will take nineteen years for him until a day of freedom finally comes.
Here comes a meal. A bowl was pushed to him through a cut out crack in the bottom of a chamber’s door.
For some reason the inspector continued standing, thought it was already the time for him to go to new chambers. One second, two, three … five …
“Prisoner Skalov, your wife has come to visit you. We will guide you to a meeting room”.
Simple human words, which have lifted his spirit on pleasure tops. It was such an immense joy for him now - to once again meet a close person in this house of loneliness, loneliness among hundreds and hundreds of people … His prison cell was slowly opened - the guard immediately pressed him against the wall and started quickly putting on handcuffs. He didn’t resist.
“Do your job, guys. It’s your work. Play your part”, - thoughts have flown in his head, remaining unexpressed. And what for? - prisoners aren’t talked to - they are given orders and are compelled to their execution. Almost like in the army, yet worse - for disobedience - a bitting to semideath follows. Or to the death - that’s unimportant. A phrase in official report will state - “has committed suicide” - in a chamber without even a single sharp object. It was possible to commit suicide there only having broken one’s head against the wall …
He was moving through a corridor, led by prison guards, and his soul was singing in joy. A joy for the first time for many-many days. For how truly long he hasn’t felt that sensation …
- Luydochka, my beloved! Dear one, how did I miss you!
- Pasha, dear! Thanks God, you are still alive! What’s wrong with you? Have you battled again? Oh, fighter, when you will stop these fights at last?! They are going to kill you one day!
- I cannot do that, Luyda, I cannot. I had no right to refuse a fight. You know … I wouldn’t survive that way …
- Pasha, dear, I beg of you - remain alive. Dear, beloved … if they kill you, Pasha, I wouldn’t survive that. Dear, nice, don’t leave me alone, keep yourself live - I beg you! I beg! I love you, Pasha!”
She nestled face to a plastic bulletproof fence that divided them, and started crying. His beloved woman. His significant other …
She was crying and her tears slowly did flow by a glass wall, leaving a pure transparent trace. He nestled his own face to a transparent wall too and was looking at her. A security guard, observing their meeting, has moved forward at first - according to the rules talking ones should keep the distance of at least two meters from a dividing wall - but then suddenly gaging somehow and slowly inclined a head downwards. Some people remained men even here.
And then they kissed transparent plastic, imaging as if they were kissing each other. Scattered hands and touched a transparent window, trying to embrace each other. They were kissing and embracing each other - and couldn’t do that. Have been divided with a wall from now on - divided with impenetrable wall for a long period of twenty years from that very familiar day …
- Do you remember that day, Pavel? I still cannot forgive myself for it - for you. Unable to forgive myself for your destiny …
- Stop it, Luyda. I have chosen that way myself, and whether I could choose differently? I have made that choice myself - and I am ready to bear a full responsibility for that. I have killed a man. I am guilty - and should be punished.
Indeed, they both remembered that day, remembered very clearly, each and every detail - in spite of the fact that more than a year has already passed since that moment. And nineteen more should pass before it will be possible to expel it definitively and forget - forget forever. Like a horror, a dream, a delusion.
Which, unfortunately, wasn’t a delusion at all …
Images slowly recurred in memory. That memorable day which have given a start to his new life here - a life that has begun after a short judicial proceedings and sentence.
Like bright flashes are these images. Sparkling and fading away …
They were returning back home from a holiday by foot … These guys jumped out of nowhere. There were two of them. One was bearing a knife in hand, the second one possessed a pistol.
“Hey, you, stand still! Drop purses on the ground, quickly! Rings, earrings, throw everything! Quickly, I’m telling ya, if you dunno want to get a bullet in ye head!” - a guy armed with a pistol cried out, having set it on them. A second one run up from behind and seized his wife, putting a knife to her throat. The one with a pistol was probably bluffing, but the second one definitely did not. “The young lass doesn’t look bad! I’ll have to fuck her a bit later. Don’t twitch ye, darling! It won’t take long, hah …”
A scared children’s shout of his wife, with a storming roar rushing into his ears …
He hesitated no longer. A blood of the soldier, who have survived the Afghani war, was boiling in him … he ceased to hear any longer … he ceased to feel the surroundings. Only the sensation, that strange sensation of the tested and survived fighter, allowing one to distinguish the incoming danger, - only it has become his guide in these instants of time …
Like bright flashes are these instants …
A kick - a pistol, pointing to him, flies off aside. Another blow - and a man holding a gun falls down and bent on the ground.
A short amazement on the face of the second guy, who has already started undressing his wife and put aside his knife from her throat for a while. Here the knife slowly moves back to her throat again …
Jump. A hand holding a knife, intercepted in the air. All three fall to the ground.
“Biiiiiitttttccccchhhhh!” - a shout, picked up by air.
A flashing iron once more - the guy managed somehow to get away a second knife. His hand, moved for interception of a strike … Too late.
A blow. Desperate shout of his wife, full of agony and pain.
“N o o o !!” - his shout of despair.
A blow. A blow. The guy screams from pain, one of his knifes flows off from hands. A struggle. Fighting on the ground. They have swept away, having seized each other.
His wife remained lying motionlessly …
Ten seconds, twenty. The guy was trying to stick his knife into him - their hands were struggling for life …
A blow. Attacking one finally managed to reach him with the edge of knife. He twisted from pain, but hasn’t ceased fighting …
Thirty seconds …
Drops of blood, exuding from his wound and generously watering the ground … Capture. Procollar of a hand holding a weapon - he wanted to beat a knife off from enemy’s hands. Blade was slowly turning towards lying below him attacker - now it will become possible to take the hand away and beat out a knife from opponent’s hands … without weapon the attacker ceases to be a fighter. Let them escape - he is not even going to pursue them …
But the guy suddenly screamed something and started turning sideways, trying to dump him from himself.
A rattle. Heart-rending agonal rattle. Turned edge was stuck in the robber’s breast, when he started turning over.
“Bas … tard”, - almost silent words, which he has heard. And then silence has reigned.
Only a guy, recently holding a pistol, was still slowly creeping, and the one with knifes was lying still … But he didn’t want to kill any of the two - had totally no
desire … Only to disarm …
He picked up a pistol and run up to his wife. Has kneeled.
Breathing … that means that she’s alive. Then he looked on a wound - a wound was on the right side under the rib - a blood was slowly pouring from it. Good. Not deadly. She has to survive, she must!
Then he picked her up, propped up on himself and slowly started going forward, bearing her. He has to pass quite a little. To leave this lane and enter a populous street, and there he’ll be aided - he must be! - by others. No, he matters not! It’s she who must survive. And he will manage it somehow - he has overcome even greater wounds!
And the pistol must be destroyed as well …
Picture changed. Now he was standing in the court, listening to own sentence - a sentence for murder.
He is a murderer. Even protecting himself and his beloved - he’s still a murderer. Even carrying a necessary self-defense - he has killed a man. But according to a court’s decision no self-defense has ever taken place.
A second survived attacker has informed law enforcement department of the accident. Naturally - the way he wanted it to look like - there were no witnesses for a fight. And even words of his wife and her wound weren’t proof enough - she was unconscious according to her own words and didn’t see a final part of fight. And considering the wound … the wound can made by her husband as well, instead of the attacker … especially if his fingerprints left on the knife has to be taken into account.
So did the court conclude - and has made its decision. Imprisonment for a long term of twenty years … For such a long period, for which he has to remain here. In this stronghold of grief … and sometimes - only sometimes - repentances …
Images have gone out. He was standing close to his wife once again, and she was still crying. And thus he calmed her. Assured, that everything will finally turn out fine, that this nightmare will end soon and he once again will meet her - his beloved - this time being free.
Then he smiled - didn’t want her to see him despaired. And had no wish to despair himself. They continued talking for quite a while - until security guard hasn’t demanded a termination of their conversation. Then they were separated until a next meeting. She will once again come to him as soon as she’s allowed to - as soon as a minimal time span between visiting will pass … approximately in two months.
She will come once again - his second half, his beloved, his personal sun.
And he will come as well into her world, after these longest twenty years. He will come when a wall, separating them, will turn to ashes. And nothing forevermore will divide them! This is worthy of his return! A world behind this fence is worthy of entering into it once again. And he will return back to start a new life - in bright and solar - new world.
After almost quarter of a century he will embrace this solar world and smile. And rejoice his living.
16.02.2012
Legend of Divine Island
- There is a legend, - the Wiseman smiled, - of the Divine Island, inhabited by singing Angels, where, seemingly, even the time ceases its movement. We transfer it to our warriors from one generation to another, and each and every year several brave ones stand out from the crowd, willing to find this true miracle.
- Have anyone of them achieved it yet? - the young man questioned.
- We don’t know it for certain. Probably, many of them were lost in a journey to the Bridge. Possibly, even more decided not to ascend it and turned back, but, being tormented by feelings of shame and fear, decided to never return back home, having found themselves a haven in foreign lands. Perhaps, someone at last has managed to pass on the Bridge and reach the Island, but whether will they decide to come back to our usual world, if they have once tasted that mysterious heavenly beauty? And, besides all other things, the very living on that Island should have transformed them so much that lots of people would certainly not be able to recognize them, renewed, even if they returned to our habitual home.
- And what is that wondrous Bridge that you have mentioned? - curiosity and genuine interest were shining in the eyes of the young warrior.
- Would you like to hear the legend of the Divine Island? - smiled the Wiseman.
- Yes! - the young man ardently answered him.
- Well, then listen and remember it well!
* * *
- This Island is not marked on any of earth maps, yet it still exists. Many say that it’s too majestic for the foot of mere mortal to step on its surface … others do argue that only those who have passed mysterious trials are given this unique chance and joy. Probably, someone would compare this island to an earthly paradise and would surely be mistaken, for his ideas of paradise are too superficial and ambiguous.
- And where is this Island located, in what overseas lands?
- It’s far and still close to you at the same time. And the first thing required for each of the warriors marching in a journey, is the Intuition.
- And what in fact is that Intuition, and how can one find it inside himself?
- The voice of Intuition can only be heard when mind of yours becomes silent and heart of yours starts speaking. The first steps are always made with Intuition, therefore those who have chosen a wrong direction initially, may never find the Island, even if they will have been traveling through many foreign lands throughout their entire life.
- But are those still able to once hear the voice of their Intuition, and curtail to the right path?
- Certainly, if they will manage to suppress inner whispers of own Arrogance.
- And what happens with those who once choses the right way?
- In the beginning of their journey to the Island they have to pass through the Wood of Life Difficulties.
- And what is that - the Wood of Life Difficulties?
- It’s a mystical forest full of growing trees, which people have agreed to call among themselves no other way than Problems.
- And why did you call this wood mystical?
- The fact is that every traveler sees this wood its own way. Someone cannot distinguish among never-ending stream of trees the wood itself, while another practically doesn’t see any trees at all. This wood is live, it possesses its own reason and behavior, and is capable of changing and transformation of itself according to each wanderer in compliance with his World-Outlook. That’s why for some it seems as dark and gloomy, with a set of various clinging foot snags, fenny bogs, burdock and nettle thickets, while for the rest it becomes a bright and sunny wood with joyfully-rustling trees, ever-singing birds and juicy berries, growing here and there under their feet.
- And why one has to overcome this wood on his journey to the Bridge at all? Cannot we simply bypass it somehow?
- One has to pass through this entire wood so that he can accumulate enough Wisdom, without which it will be extremely difficult to journey to the end.
- And what is awaiting us further, after the wood? Probably the very Bridge to the Island itself?
- Oh, certainly not! - the Wiseman smiled good-naturally. - Just behind the wood the River of Time keeps flowing.
- What a strange name for the river! And who have decided to call some usual river so pathetically?
- Oh, if only it was some common river! But no, it’s even more surprising than the Wood of Life Difficulties itself.
- Most probably, it’s very wide and filled to the bottom with some sort of predatory fish like piranhas? - the young man cheerfully burst out laughing. - Nevertheless, it’s probably not too difficult to cross it by swimming.
- No sort of predatory fish is ever present there, - the Wiseman unexpectedly replied firmly. - To be bitten for feet by some pity piranhas - it’s such an insignificant trial! It’s much more uneasy to feel the Link of Times under own feet and pass the river, leaning on it.
- But what’s that - the Link of Times?
- The rope bridge, connecting two sides of the river, is called that way. This bridge is very, very, extremely ancient and old, for it has existed there since th
e most ancient eras, connecting the times. Waves of time of that river are lapping under it, sprinkling it with myriads of water drops and consequently during all the time of its existence the bridge has become extremely slippery. Inexperienced and self-assured traveler can easily slip on its boards and fall down to the river.
- But is that not possible to get out of river back on the coast and start everything anew? - the young man was surprised.
- Alas, but as soon as the man gets caught into the raging whirlpool of that river, the time starts flowing for him so quickly and uncontrollably, that, when he will finally manage to swim to the coast, he can have already become elderly aged man, and thus will possess neither the forces, nor time or desire to move through the river any further.
- But how is it possible not to stumble on that bridge through the River of Times? How can I truly feel the bridge under my feet?
- The feel underfoot the link of times means to understand that behind the last instant there will be a following, and behind the current there was previous one. We were forgetting the previous instant and never knew the following, but that doesn’t mean that there was no previous, and the following would never come true. To understand that means to feel the link of times, and, feeling it, not to slip. To understand the rapidity of time and the value of each given to us instant means to cross the bridge over the River of Times.
- All that is so uneasy! - the young warrior sighed. - Well, and what is awaiting us after the River of Times? Now it will probably be that main Bridge at long last?
- No, before reaching the Bridge on the Island, one still has to travel through the entire Desert of Loneliness.
- Sounds very terrifying! - exclaimed the young man.
- In the Desert of Loneliness each man remains alone with himself. In the Desert of Loneliness he is being tormented by his own demons, over whom he still haven’t totally prevailed in course of own life. Demons of Fear, Doubt and Grief are being encountered there more often than others. It seems to the traveler that he is left alone and abandoned to the mercy of fate, though it’s his fate itself that leads him through this scorching desert. Demons are constantly tormenting him, trying to make him fall in despair and curtail from own path, for they do clearly know how very close is the final goal of the traveler. The sun of reason do constantly burn down his skin, poisonous scorpions and snakes of evil thoughts endlessly crawl under his feet. There is a lonely Oasis of Hope in that desert, yet one can reach it only by the end of the day, when your forces are practically extinguished, yet there is a faith in a miracle living deep inside your soul. Those who have reached the Oasis are granted the good fortune of Strength of Spirit, which is so greatly required for the ascension on the Bridge. From the Oasis to the Bridge there lies two more days of travelling through the desert.
On the Wings of Hope : Prose Page 5