On the other side of the wall, I inhaled as usual the warm smell of decayed leaves floating in the air, mixed with the scent of weeds and ferns. It seemed to me that I could hear them already saluting me with familiar whispers. I was not a complete stranger anymore, they greeted me kindly. Every visitor was probably entertainment in this place isolated from life.
I sat on the stairs, I already knew so well, leading to the chapel. I put the umbrella in the same place where I had found it, the cane with the silver handle at my feet and the academic notebook on my lap.
"In this quiet autumn evening,
I would like to feel your warmth... "
I could not concentrate, could not help but wonder about Tatiana. Would she come today? Surely she would. After all, she said she wanted to get his umbrella. Who was she really? And why had she chosen me?
"I would like to know you tenderly... " - I added the next line, but right after I closed the notebook on my lap, because I felt someone's presence.
Yes, it was Igor. I knew that he was my friend now, but just in case, I greeted him with a “cuckoo” thrown in the air. He clucked his tongue and the candy was gone immediately.
Tatiana showed up after a while. Igor was always the first to arrive, as if to make sure she would not be in danger.
She was pleased at the sight of her old-fashioned umbrella. Today, she was wearing yet another dress, purple this time, made of some glittering material. Beautiful she was like a dream, but when I tried to look into her eyes, they were melancholic, until the moment when her sight fell on Julian’s black cane, the monogram on it visible. Then, she jerked her head violently and cried:
“It's you, Julian! I immediately felt that it was you. I knew that you would come back. I’ve been waiting for you for so long!”
She rose up both hands to throw her arms around me before I could utter a single word. Then, all of a sudden, she froze. The door to the chapel behind my back opened with a thud and a terrible form of a Cossack wearing the uniform of a tsarist guardsman appeared on its doorstep. From his black beard, blood flowed onto his uniform and in the pale moonlight it seemed also black, and in his hand he kept a naked broadsword. Tatiana thrust herself into my arms with horror in her eyes. I was also scared like hell that I was not able to produce the slightest movement. I felt her shaking against my body. Never before in my life had I been so scared. Only Igor showed his presence of mind. He jumped up like a spring and tried to grab the officer's throat with his jaws. The Cossack raised his hand at the same time with the broadsword and slashed horribly, tossing the poor dog somewhere far away, between the bushes. Then, the terrible apparition looked at both of us holding each other tight and quaking with fear. I closed my eyes. I preferred not to look at my own death up close. For a moment that seemed as long as eternity, I felt Tatiana's heart beating right next to mine, and suddenly there was a loud bang like a gunshot. After that, nothing happened. There was only total silence.
I opened my eyes and looked carefully.
The doors to the chapel were locked. There was no one around but us. Then Tatiana began to kiss my lips and the next thing I knew, we were suddenly both between the ferns drunk with their scent and with each other. My fingers began to entangle with the hooks and frills, as if they had a mind of their own. As for my mind, I could not even tell what I was doing and where I was. Then we made love to each other for a long time and ardently, as if we had both been waiting for this moment for years. When finally, the indescribable forces had faded completely and we lay exhausted between the bushes, listening to the murmur of the trees above our heads, Tatiana whispered:
“You believed in me Julian. Finally, you did. So long have I waited for this moment.”
I did not answer. I didn’t know what to say. Should I object that my name was not Julian? After having come here with his cane and his monogram, however, I was afraid that doing that could harm her. I chose to not say anything. Tatiana got up after a moment. She said only:
“Goodbye” and simply walked away into the darkness alone. Igor, this time, did not follow his mistress.
I did not even try to stop her, did not really know what was happening to me.
After a few moments, when my heart finally started beating normally, I finally got up on my feet and fetched my clothes. The moon could not be seen and there was only darkness as I went out into the street and headed back toward the dorm.
***
The next day, I decided to go to the cemetery before my classes to find the cane I had left there. Yesterday, it had not even crossed my mind that I had left it. My brain was working in some other dimension. It was necessary to return it to the owner, and besides, a part of me was hoping that it would fulfill the role of a "magic wand" and with its help, I could once again bring Tatiana to me and feel her heart beating next to mine. Who knew? If only this terrible Vasyl did not show up close with his broadsword...
At the thought of him, I stopped in the middle of the road. My feet just would not go any further. But I forced myself and with some trepidation, I crossed the cemetery gate. Welcome whispers didn’t greet me this time. (Probably in the morning they were all asleep.) Turning next to the grave of the General-Major and his daughter, I stopped for a moment and said a short prayer.
When I came to the chapel, I started looking for my things. The cane was lying in the grass. I noticed the silver handle glistening in the light of the day without exerting any effort. I picked up the stick and walked up the stone steps, where Tatiana and I both sat yesterday, huddled together and shivering with fear. Now, in the light of day, the place had completely lost the atmosphere of yesterday's horror. I picked up my notebook, which for the second time had spent the night in the cemetery and opened it. Below the line previously written, one new line appeared before my eyes:
"To fulfill my dreams"...
“Fulfill my dreams?” I thought out loud. “What dreams?”
Now I did not have the slightest doubt who had written it, but I did not understand the meaning of the words. I closed the book and without fear, went to the door of the chapel and turned the handle. The door was closed, overgrown with cobwebs. Nothing pointed to the fact that someone had opened it recently.
I stood on the top of the stairs, where yesterday I had seen Black Vasyl - I was convinced that it was he - and looked around. From there, he had watched us sitting below in horror. I looked at my feet. The stone steps were splattered with something black. Blood? Perhaps. Some more spots could be seen at the right side of the stairs. The yellow leaves and grasses were spotted also. I went in that direction and parted the branches of the shrubs. Igor lay among the bushes terribly mutilated from the sword, and over his poor remains circled some flies.
So, I suppose it happened really. I covered him with a few branches and promised to come back after school to bury him decently.
***
In my class, I had already taken my seat when our professor began his lecture on geometry. This topic I liked the most. I had no problems with spatial imagination and did not understand why some students could not capture the rules of perspective or isometrics. Baska came in as usual at the last minute and sat on the empty chair next to mine.
“Something new?” she asked in a whisper.
I shook my head.
“Baloney” she said. “I can see it on your face.”
I did not even move, apparently listening to the words of the professor.
She opened her notebook and began to scribble something on the last sheet of paper. After a few minutes, she tore it and placed it on my palm. I began to read:
"Then, at the Amphitheatre, I did not tell you everything. There was another letter. It implied that Tatiana was a virgin and that as long as she was, Vasyl could kidnap her and rape her. Then she had to become his wife. Some old Cossack tradition. That's why Julian found himself in exile from which he never came back. She was waiting for Julian to liberate her from virginity, probably because Black Vasyl was still after her."
I sighed deeply, full of admiration for Baska and her intuition. She grabbed a note for a second time and added:
"Do not go there. She will try to seduce you, and I intend to be the first."
This was too much for a friend from college. I turned my head toward her with a serious face, but Baska suddenly started staring at the teacher and didn’t seem to notice it.
After classes at the college, I ate lunch in the student cafeteria and went to the warehouse room of our dorm to borrow a shovel. Thus prepared, I went to the cemetery. I also did not forget Julian’s cane and my notebook. Who knew what could happen? Upon arrival, I made sure that there was not a living soul around (the extraterrestrial whispers I was already getting used to) and I laid all my stuff on the stairs leading to the chapel.
There was still a little daylight, so I easily searched for Igor in the bushes and dragged the body of the poor chap to the tomb of General-Major.
I started to dig. It was not very easy. The ground was rocky and full of roots, but after some time, the grave was ready, one and a half meters long and sufficiently deep, dug right next to the tomb of those who old Igor served so faithfully for many years.
Then I pulled the remains of Igor into the dark hole, feeling sorry for him so tremendously that I threw the rest of my favorite “cuckoos” into his tomb. I had started to like him so much. After all, we had a lot in common. We both loved Tatiana and “cuckoos” and liked old cemeteries full of secret whispers and ferns. I showered Igor’s grave with soil and formed a neat mound with the spade. After saying a prayer for the three of them, I took the spade and returned to "my stone steps". I sat in my usual place with the notebook on my lap and the cane against my legs. I knew that she would not come anymore. I was even sure that she would not come, but something at the bottom of my heart murmured to me that maybe that was not yet known. Also, I counted a little on the cane of Julian. Who knew? It might work as a talisman.
I opened the book and wrote the next line:
"I'm waiting, I miss you greatly... "
I couldn’t write anymore, I felt a strong pain growing inside of me. After all I had done, I could not just sit and wait. I had to do something. I must do something. I stood up, straightened up, and probably in order to throw out the pain, burning inside me, I shouted through the cemetery darkness:
“Tatiana! ... Tatiana! ... Tatia..,”
A rumble interrupted my scream from behind my back, and before I could turn around, I felt a terrible pain in my head which caused me to fall into complete darkness.
***
I opened my eyes with difficulty. I saw the blurry face of some saintly lady bent over me. Stars against a background of dark blue sky surrounded her head, which I could see upside down. In no way could I remember who the saint was, but I was sure that I had seen her somewhere before.
"Not bad" I thought, thinking that I had ended up in heaven, and that it could be a lot worse. My head ached badly. I tried to get up.
“Don't move. What the hell?” The saint hissed angrily with her familiar voice.
"It must be Saint Baska" I thought a little more consciously. I glanced down at my feet and saw the wall of the cemetery a few meters away.
I was lying on my back with my head resting probably on her lap.
“Lie still, ” she said in a more normal voice. “In a moment, the ambulance will arrive.”
And then again, everything faded.
***
The next time I woke up, I found myself in a hospital bed. When I realized after a while where I was, I tried to get my bearings in my mind. I didn’t succeed, not really. My head was hurting a lot, especially at the slightest movement.
A passing nurse examined my pulse and called the doctor on duty.
He in turn examined my pulse and shone his flashlight into my eyes.
“It's not bad, ” he said. “You had only seven stitches. I assume you have a hard head. This lady who called an ambulance said that you fell down the stairs. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I managed to creak.
“Well, well, I only asked because you looked like a samurai after a sword duel, the wound looks just like a saber cut. If it were a gunshot, I would have to report it to the police, but a wound from a sword? That is not even believable. Two days for observation and that’s it. Then, you just have to visit us to have the stitches removed.”
Baska came in every day, but only for a few moments each time. She did not want to talk to me. It was obvious that she was mad at me.
When I was released from the hospital, some invisible force pushed me to the cemetery. I found the spade I had borrowed, Julian’s cane and my notebook and brought them all with difficulty to the dorm.
When I found myself alone, I looked into the notebook. Yes, there was one line appended, in the same handwriting as the other mysterious lines:
"Farewell, and do not think of me..."
That was it, nothing more.
I met Baska in the afternoon at the Amphitheatre. When I arrived, she was sitting on one of the chairs facing the Vistula and eating an apple.
“I bought it, ” she said grimly, looking somewhere far away, beyond the river. - Yes, it was me who pulled you behind the wall of the cemetery. I knew instantly you would go there. I heard you yelling, so I found you. You were lying on the stairs and bleeding like a pig. Before someone found you, you would have been caput. You chose the right place for that.
“I know, ” I said only. Nothing else came to my mind.
I handed her the Julian’s stick which I had brought along.
“I’m returning your family heirloom.”
“You can keep it. To me, it is associated with bad memories. Now, it's your turn. Tell me everything.”
I thought for a moment.
“Will you marry me?” I asked suddenly. She looked me straight in the eyes.
“Let's see if you’ve wised up a little.”
I looked at her, sitting in the orange rays of the setting sun and I smiled.
Actually, with a little help from a hairdresser…
Back to ToC
Iza from Adria
There are some people in Warsaw who still remember the Warsaw Uprising against the German Army occupation. Some of them even participated in fighting the German tanks with just a hand grenade or a bottle full of gasoline. Many died, either killed by the enemy, dying in war prison camps or simply disappearing forever. Still, they live on in the memories of their friends who survived, as survivors may move forward in their lives, but they will never forget…
***
Stefan put a jar of herrings and a bottle of cheap vodka on the table. Then, he went to the kitchenette and opened the cupboard, taking out a loaf of wholemeal bread, which he also put on the table. Finally, he got two glasses and some soda water. When everything was ready, he paused, looking around the apartment.
Nothing had changed. The same wallpaper still covered the walls of this attic, the same one he and Victor had put up before the war. There was still the same modest furniture, the same gas stove in the compartment. Only the tenant had changed. He had become much, much older, nothing else.
He looked at the calendar.
October 2, 1974.
Tomorrow will be the 30th anniversary of the capitulation of the Warsaw Uprising. Tomorrow. That meant they were still fighting today, 30 years ago.
He went to the window and opened it wide. Beyond, the Wild West began to darken. America had its Wild West. Warsaw had hers, or so they called the area in Warsaw, west of the Palace of Culture - the streets like Chmielna, Zlota, Panska, Prozna, and several others. Here, the surviving buildings, which even today bore the scars of the war with their old, ugly walls were surrounded by modern neighborhoods still in their infancy. Nobody intended to rebuild them. The architects were already planning on putting up modern housing estates in these areas. Meanwhile, the old and rapidly decaying hovels were waiting patiently for demolition. The tenants were left alone for the
time being, because there was no place for them to be relocated just yet. In the evening, it was better not to go over to the area if you didn’t live there, which is probably how the place got its name. And so it was until the beginning of the construction of the Central Railway Station, which appeared so suddenly that some of the houses had to be torn down soon because a place was needed for a modern, two-level intersection. Among them was a house on Chmielna street, where Stefan had lived for over thirty years.
He sat down on one of only two chairs in the apartment, lit a Sport cigarette and calmly waited.
After his smoke, he extinguished the butt in the ashtray, drank some soda water and went to the toilet. When he came out, Victor was already sitting at the table, on the other chair. A head nodded in greeting, which was sufficient for an old friend. There was no need to embrace on a good day, even though they had not seen each other for exactly a year. Then again, they had been meeting like this every year at exactly the same time and the same place ever since the end of the war. Neither of them had happened to screw up yet. And they both knew that as long as the house stood on the surface of the earth, they would be meeting like this, because they both needed it. And they would always talk about the same things for everything else was not important, it did not even matter, as only those events from more than thirty years ago were real. All the rest was just pure fiction, needed only to fill the silently passing time.
Now, however, everything was a little different. It had been since three months ago actually, when Stefan received a court order to leave the apartment. He was now, the last tenant of the old building. Everyone else had moved out long ago to new places. He was the only one, who refused to go.
Candlelight Stories Page 3