

	ПОШУК

АВТОРУ:

AlmaNAH

Жанри

Авантюрна проза

Авторська проза

Альтернативна історія

Гоголівський ФОРУМ

Наша статистика

Авторів:	754
Творів:	11443
Рецензій:	17364

Наша кнопка

Код:

Художні твори Проза Містика

MY REAL BROTHER ANDY

© Yaroslav Dereha, 19-05-2007
Copyright (c) 2007 by YAROSLAV DEREHA Передрук чи використання будь-якої частини тексту без письмової згоди автора заборонено. MY REAL BROTHER ANDY When I was exactly four years old, and it was quite a long time ago, my Mom and Dad bought me a new tricycle and a new red and green ball and a really real little cute goldfish in a real big bowl with real water. And, of course, I was happy! Who wouldn’t be happy to get such marvelous presents on his fourth birthday? But still there was a disappointment: where was my new brother that I was vaguely, but really promised to be presented after all my long intreaties, explanations, tears and even secret night prayers? Mom always said that nice new five year old brothers cost too much money. You see, in those days, when I was four, nice new five year old brothers could be bought only at a special shop, while nice new little baby brothers could be conjured up, my Mom said, when Dad just kissed Mom on the mouth. The trick must have been working only with Dads, for I must tell you in a very great secret, that I gave Mom several kisses right on her mouth when she had her afternoon nap on a hot summer day with no babies as a result, and I could agree to a new little baby brother alright, you know. My Dad said, well, he would not mind buying me a new brother, but said that only Mom knew the address of the shop. Dad, I said to my Dad, you please ask Mom the address, and we both go there at once and buy a real nice new clever five year old brother whom I shall call Andy and who could play ball and hide and seek with me and help me eat my big dish of breakfast oatmeals porridge and it’ll be such a nice surprise for Mom, you know, for she always gets so nervous and insisting when I can’t finish my big dish of breakfast oatmeals porridge. To which my Dad answered, well, you see, that shop does not sell real five year old brothers except to moms. Well, there remained only one way to buy me a brother. And I started saving money. I saved on candies and I saved on icecreams and I saved on chocolates and I even saved on balloons. On red ballons, and on green ballons, and even on yellow balloons – those were my favorites. I saved for the whole two weeks and three days. And I saved as much as seven dollars and fifty cents and as I just couldn’t wait any longer, I said to myself well hope that will be enough. And you must agree, that money was quite enough to buy a real good new clever five or even six year old brother at any shop, special or not. So I took my money and I ran with it to Mom and said: look, Mom, here’s the money, now you can go and buy me a real brother, but take care, choose the one who likes to play ball and hide-and-seek and is fond of oatmeals porridge, all right, Mom? And Mom laughed and said: oh you silly darling! I am so sorry, but you know, yesterday they closed the shop because of the sudden lack of brothers until next year, so, please, couldn’t we wait with you for just one short quick fast year while you play your new ball and ride your new tricycle and look after your new goldfish? No, we couldn’t, I cried and started to weep. But weep as I would, it was of no avail. Because all brothers were sold out and I had to wait for another long lonely loony year and it was all my fault for I was one day late! It was terrible! It was impossible! It was unbearable! I felt I would never be able to eat any more oatmeals porridge for my breakfast and die of hunger and desperation the following morning! Then summer came, and Mom and Dad took me to my Grandmother’s and Grandfather’s, who lived in a beautiful cosy house in the countryside with a big garden behind it, and where there was a real red cock and real hens and a lot of cute tiny real chickens and real black ducks and a lot of cute yellow real ducklings and real big white geese and a lot of cute yellow real goslings and even a big black and white goat (a real one!) of which I was really so much afraid. And I had a tasty boiled egg and a tasty dish of boiled potatoes and a tasty glass of fresh goat milk for my breakfast and the whole big garden to play ball and hide-and-seek with Grandmom and Granddad and sometimes even with the big black and white real goat of which I was really so much afraid that only climbing a tall pear or apple or plum tree could really save me from my fear. And miraculously I did not die of hunger and desperation that summer because suddenly I forgot about how badly I needed a clever five year old real brother. But then summer came to an end and Mom and Dad took me back home and I had again a big dish of oatmeals porridge for breakfast and nobody to play ball or hide-and-seek with after the breakfast, and I again felt I couldn’t really do without a real clever five year old brother, who could play ball and hide-and-seek and help me eat my big dish of oatmeals porridge for breakfast and whom I could call Andy. One day when I with Mom and Dad were coming back home from our usual evening after supper walk in the park, I noticed a small boy sitting near the garbage can that stood some thirty meters away from the house we lived in. The boy was looking at me and seemed to be saying something which I could not hear so I ran up to him and saw that it was not a boy but a big brown old teddy-bear somebody must have thrown away. Dirty, torn on the sides, with only one eye and only one ear left, its red tongue stuck out, as if His Mom never told Him it was bad manners to do so. His arms were lifted and stretched forward and He said to me: save me, please! I seized Him with my both hands and shouted: Mom, Dad, look, what a beautiful teddy-bear! I want to take Him home! He will be my real five year old brother! And I shall call him Andy! Please! I don’t remember when and how I fell asleep that night. I woke suddenly up when I heard somebody calling: save me, please! Awefully afraid, I sat up in my bed and listened. Silence. Nobody in my room. Outside it was raining, the cold autumn wind was blowing. It must have been just a dream I thought and I lay back on my pillow. It was wet. And I remembered everything. The boy. The old teddy-bear. My five year old brother who I could play ball and hide-and-seek with and who could help me eat my big dish of oatmeals porridge for breakfast and whom I could call Andy. And I again started to cry. I cried and cried. And I did not want to live. And I died. And then suddenly I heard again somebody calling out: save me, please! And again I woke up and sat up in my bed and listened and did not hear anything except the drumming of the rain and howling of the cold autumn wind outside. But now I knew who was calling me. I forgot the darkness of the night outside and the slashing cold rain and the cold autumn wind, and I forgot my fear. Quickly I put on my red shirt and I put on my yellow sweater and I put on my blue trousers and I put on my socks and I put on my shoes which I left unlaced and I tip-toed out of my room into the dark corridor and very very cautiously I tip-toed to the entrance door and very very cautiously I unlatched the door and went out and ran five floors downstairs and out into the street. And there He was, my five year old brother Andy, stretching out His arms to me in the dim light of the street lamps! I rushed through the thick thirty meters wall of cold rain, grabbed Him quickly into my arms and ran back to the house and five floors upstairs. For two weeks the best doctors at the local hospital had been fighting a savage and apparently hopeless battle with my cause unknown fever and pulmonitis. When at last I returned back home and entered my room I saw a new big teddy-bear sitting complacently in the big arm-chair looking accusingly in my direction, obviously annoyed at being disturbed out of his afternoon nap by a stranger. I didn’t say any hello to the arrogant intruder but slammed the door shut behind me and rushed to the wardrobe. And there at the bottom of it, under all my clothes and right under all my dirty already dried up socks and shoes and crumpled red shirt and yellow sweater and blue trousers, was He, crumpled, dirty, and torn on the sides, with only one ear and one eye left, my five year old brother Andy! I said a whispering hello to Him, and put back all the things and shut the door of the wardrobe and asked the new teddy-bear, who continued to complacently sit in his big chair without paying any special attention to my movements, not to tell anything to anybody. He said: pardon, sir? It took me several days to wash Him properly, for He was so awfully dirty that I had to wash Him two times, and I could use the bathroom for this purpose only when my Mom and Dad were out and I was left at home alone. And to dry Him I had to put Him under my bed at night and then get up very early the next morning before Mom came in to give me her usual awakening good-morning kiss to put Him under all my clothes back in the wardrobe in the day time for Mom and Dad not to see Him, and I had to do so for three nights for it was autumn and things do not dry quickly in autumn, you know. Then I decided to sew up all the holes on His body. But the problem was that I did not know how to do it. So one day I went up to Mom and said: Mom, could you show me please how to sew? And Mom said: why, darling, what do you want to sew? Mom, I said, I’d like to sew up a hole on the teddy-bear you and Dad gave me. Well, Mom said, I wonder why couldn’t you be just a little tiny bit more careful not to tear such nice teddy-bear, ‘cause it may hurt him, too, you know. I know, Mom, I said, but, Mom, I said, you know, he agreed to suffer a little for a noble cause. What do you mean, Mom said. Nothing, Mom, I said, it’s just a play and I am a surgeon, I said, couldn’t I? Well, darling, of course you can, but then, you see, I am not a surgeon, so I cannot sew up your patients. Mom, I implored my Mom, you could at least show me how to thread the needle, please. All right, my dear surgeon, but you must give me a solemn and earnest promise not to do any more suchlike dangerous experiments with or without the patient’s agreement, o.k? O.k., Mom, I said happily. And so Mom showed me how to thread the needle and, firstly, in a week’s time, I sewed up the tear I made on purpose with a pair of scissors on my new teddy-bear who turned out to be not so arrogant in the end because he agreed to suffer for a noble cause, and whom I tried to recompence all his courageous self-denial and sufferings with two nice chocolate icecreams which he said he wouldn’t eat and I had to eat it myself, but all the same we became good friends from that time. And I then started to sew up patches on my no more dirty but still torn on the sides, with only right eye and right ear left five year old brother Andy. In about two week’s time only I succeded to repair all visible defects on His body for I could do it only when my Mom and Dad were out and I was left alone in the house. He was furnished with a really nice blue button for a beautiful left eye and a good big silky piece of cloth for a good silky left ear. Although it was a bit longer and of a somewhat different color from the right ear, it looked quite good. And I asked Him how He liked it and said He liked it and gave me a smile – a very peculiar mysterious smile of His. Every month on the 6th of it I celebrated with Him His birthday. In fact, we both chose for His birthday the day of our first meeting which was also the day of His saving, and decided to do so every month, you know, just to have more fun (I always wondered why, when I asked Mom and Dad to celebrate my birthday at least five times a year just to have more fun and more presents, they always said no). And, besides, I didn’t know when His birthday really was, because He had no Mom or Dad to tell me, and He Himself bluntly and stubbornly refused to talk about Himself where or when He was born, being too shy or too modest or too secretive or all these three together. So on His first birthday, on the sixth of December, I presented Him a nice red shirt and a nice yellow sweater and a nice pair of blue trousers and a nice green cap and even a nice pair of black shoes. All bought with the money saved by me especialy for the purpose. Of course, I had to say a little tiny lie to Mom and Dad asking them to order not one but two sets of clothes for my big new teddy-bear, pretending I wanted him to have a change for Sundays, and for which I agreed to pay my own money. Mom discovered His presence only thirty three days after His saving day, while helping me make order in my room before Christmas. But as by that time He looked already quite clean and nice and presentable in His red shirt and blue trousers and yellow sweater and black shoes and green cap, she decided He must have been presented to me by some friend or relative of ours which visited me for many days after I miraculously returned home alive from the hospital, so she did not bother me with any extra tedious questions. When I started to go to school at the age of five, we agreed with my real brother Andy we’d better celebrate His birth-and-save-day only once a year on the sixth of November. In fact it was He who asked me to quit the happy, monthly habit. And I sadly had to agree. Although I must confess that in secret I still continued to celebrate every month my brother Andy’s birthday without letting him know anything about it. Seeing what a fun it was to go to school and how much I enjoyed it, He asked me one day please if I could teach Him all I learned at school so He could also have some fun. And we started playing the game “who’s the smartest”. Usually it was me who at first rushed ahead, but then Andy would always catch up. So in the end it was always a fifty-fifty game. In fact, He was much more smarter than me. On my sixth birthday my brother Andy suddenly decided we’d better quit celebrating His birthdays, as He thought He was already big enough to do without. He always made His decisions so suddenly! His reason for quitting was quite unexpected and wholly unreasonable. He just decided he wouldn’t like to grow up, but stay five for ever. He said he just didn’t choose to grow up, and that’s all. Soon he said he got fed up and tired of piling up all that stupid unnecessary knowledge I brought home from school, as He bluntly put it. He said He didn’t see why He should, He said, He’d prefer to stay ignorant as, He said, He felt much more happy so, than cramming all those mad heaps of fussy information into His head. No arguments with which Mom and Dad used to successfully convince me go on with my school torments, seemed to have produced any visible effects on my brother Andy, which forever remained five happy years old, hardly able to read and write. But how often I envied His blissful ignorance! And then I finished school and entered the university and graduated from the university and became a journalist and started traveling all around the world. And then I got married and then, very soon (for time fleets, you know, and with more years it fleets still more faster), my two sons got married, and I always sent little cute Christmas presents to my two son’s four sons, and I never forgot to send some recent fotos of myself to my real five year old brother Andy on His birthday November the 6th to keep Him company, for my four grandsons aged 5 and 6 and 8 and 9, likewise their fathers, could never believe Andy was my really real brother, and did not find Him interesting or nice looking enough to choose to play with. But from the quite sober distance of my six and fifty years of age and still more sober thousands of miles away from Him (for the last ten years most of the time I stay in Asia), I myself began to suspect the reality our real brotherhood. But last year a strange thing happened to me which brought to my mind vivid recollections of my childhood and proved beyond any doubts, at least to me, the eternal and really real reality of my affinity with that mysterious Andy of my brother. It so happened that last year just before Chritmas, I went to one of the so frequent nowadays in every corner of the world war conflicts, and had to cross high woody mountains and, notwithstanding my fast but rather old jeep, because of the delay on the road caused by necessity to urgently repair the brakes system, I was caught by night on a high mountain road. It was quite dangerous to spend the night on the road, and even more dangerous to proceed, for the gorillas that usually came down from the mountains at night, did not care to spare a living soul and killed and robbed all and sundry they met just for the sport’s sake. And on my way earlier in the day when I passed through some village and stopped at an inn for a snack, I met a group of bearded men with a quite menacing look who did not as much as say hello in answer to mine, but instead kept glaring at me and my old jeep with appraising gazes, which left me in no doubt as to who they were or why they paid me such an exceedingly close attention. I had no intention to meet those savage looking guys again in the lonely darkness of the mountaineous night. That’s why I tried my best to arrive at my destination before nightfall. Besides, it was Christmas eve, which I would rather spend in more cosy and familiar surroundings. Although the gorgeous starlit sky over the magestic mountains with the Hymalayas and Tibet somewhere there behind the horizon seemed to cast some kind of magic spell over me. But when it became quite dark and I saw no traces of any village around, I understood that now I’ll have to face my destiny. Because just a few hundred meters further away up on the ridge of the nearby mountains I could clearly see the silouettes of a group of men on horseback with guns behind their backs against the dark blue night skylight, who seemed in their turn to be observing me. Then I saw them go away but I knew they would be back. And indeed in some five minutes I saw them coming down the slope along an invisible path to the small plateau just over the place I stopped. It was a peculiar place as if specially designed for a decisive battle between Good and Evil. There was no way to get to my place from the little plateau which was some thirty meters above and to which my supposed enemies were descending, because it abruptly fell down into a very steep precipice sraight to the place near which I chose to stop. So they could get at me only from the road which gave here a sharp twist and was an ideal place for defence. During all my years of permeating through thick and thin of all those stupidly damned war frontier regions, I met with all kinds of situations and many times met Her Magesty Lady Death face to face and so I long ago stopped fearing or caring too much for my safety or even for my life. But now I had with me a few hand-bombs and a very good kalashnikov that proved to be an efficent companion on several delicate occasions before and I felt sure I could have at least some chance and I decided I’d trust my destiny and get ready for the imminent battle and I pulled my old jeep up to some ten meters from the foot of the precipice, got out of it, had my hurried supper, drank some water from my flask, then got into the car and closed the door. But I did not intend to sleep. Instead, after ten minutes or so, I very very cautiously opened the door of the car on the opposite side so that I would not be seen from the place the armed men could see me, and very very cautiuosly I slipped out of my jeep, and very very cautiously I crawled through the tall grass some twenty meters which seperated my car from the nearby bushes and hid behind a big rock. My gun always behind my back, and my handbombs in the pockets of my jacket. There was not a sound to be heard. Only crickets merrily chirping away, just like at home. The moon was nearly full-faced and shone with an enchanted alice-through-the-looking-glass sulky light of a sad goddess, who showed as well as she could all her sad reluctance and even resentment to witness any disagreable things happen on such a nice blissful really holy night. The night really was Christmas-like sweet and quiet. And then I remembered what I seemed to have suddenly and completely forgotten that it was really the 24 December, Christmas eve, but someplace faraway, because there could be no Christmas in such a hot, desperately lonely place like this, I thought. And I felt quite ashamed when I remembered I had forgotten to say my prayers and still more ashamed when I remembered I stopped doing it a long time ago, and I said my prayers three times in a row like my Mom taught me to do, and I lay in the tall grass behind the big rock and I forgot all things around me, and I felt so happy and peaceful as if I were at home. And I lost all notion of time. I cannot exactly say how long I lay there in the bushes behind the big rock deeply lost in my sweet home reveries. Maybe five minutes, maybe half an hour, for quite unawarely I just slipped into a short spell of a happy sleep, when suddenly I was alarmed by a slight although very distinct noise of a rolling downhill stone. I peeped out of my hiding place from behind the big rock. I could distinguish some twelve to fifteen men standing on the little plateau right over the place where I parked my car and discussing something hotly in whispering undertones. Then two of the men leaned over the edge of the precipice some thirty meters high, while two others started descending by the ropes down to the place I and my jeep were. Well, I said to myself, so, guys, you’ve made your choice, haven’t you? Alright, guys, then I am going to make mine. And very very quietly I stood up on my right knee and very very carefully I aimed my kalashnikov at the two descending aggressors which were already halfway down, and then very very gently I squeezed the trigger. The two men did not give as much as a shout but just thumped on the rocks underneath like so many bags with potatoes some ten meters away from my jeep. Had I even missed my terrible target, there was little if any chance for them to survive the fall, for the rocks they had fallen on were quite big and extremely sharp-edged. There was a deep deafening silence as if everybody present: the men on the plateau over the precipice, and me hidden in the bushes behind the big rock, and even the sulkily shining goddess of the moon together with the stars for her magestical train up in the sky, – all of us just held the breath for a moment surprised and taken aback and shocked and not knowing what to do next. And then the hell opened. Some of the men started throwing bombs at my jeep which exploded and was ablaze in a second, while two more men started climbing down the ropes, and the rest of them shooting with their automatic guns in the direction of my old jeep all now in fire. I saw the hopelessness of my situation, and I decided to at least sell my life as dearly as I could. But still I kept still and quiet behind the big rock in the bushes as if waiting for something unusual to happen. Strangely enough for such situation my heart was flooded with a feeling of strange blissful nonchalance. Well, wasn’t it Christmastide, the time for miracles, after all? And then indeed something quite unexpected and completely unbelievable happened. First I heard a long terrible raw. It was more horrible and more terrifying than the raw of twenty savage tigers put together. Then I heard nothing. Then I heard horrified screams and shouts of the men above. Then I saw a giant dark figure of a huge strange beast crushing and tearing at the bodies of the unhappy aggressors quite near the edge of the precipice. There, alas, was no chance for them, because the terrible beast was too big and too quick to let anyone escape its deadly hugs. Some men struck by panic in despair jumped into the precipice. The others were squashed and torn and hurled down the precipice by the horrible monster. Soon everything became still and quiet again. It was already dawning by that time. Shocked by the horrible scene I had witnessed, I stood motionless for some ten minutes leaning on the big rock of my hiding place. Then at last I dared to look out of my hiding place from behind the rock and I was still more shocked to see what remained of my night aggressors. There were altogether not less than sixteen dead bodies, most of them horribly mutilated, some headless, some limbless, lying on the sharp rocks as if thrown there by some terrible hurricane wind, like dead leaves torn from a tree and strewn on the ground to rot. And then I saw the hurricane Himself. He had the form of an unusually huge brown bear. He was indeed so monstrously immense that I felt sure He could match an elefant. I had never seen a more terrible living creature in my life before, either in nature (and I had traveled to all corners of the earth) or at the zoo (and I had visited quite a lot of them) or in any book or movie (of which I had read and watched even too many). Then He saw I saw Him. We stood there, two God’s creatures, the old child and the terrible beast, on the beautiful Christmas morning in the wilderness of solemn Cristmastide mountains, watching each other unmovingly, silently, speechlessly. Then He stood up on His hind paws, and sticking out His reddishly scarlet tongue gave a big huge yawn which could easily be taken for a big hi! and lifted up His huge right paw as if waved me a friendly hello and then started walking away, His red tongue always stuck out of His mouth as if He was not told by His Mom it wasn’t good manners to stick one’s tongue out. And just before He turned round the corner of the rock up there on the tragic plateau, He suddenly stopped and looked back at me and started to scratch his right ear which seemed somehow to be a little longer than the left one and his right eye flashed at me with the strangely blue reflection of the rising sun, and then He game me a kind of a smile. At least I thought Him to have done so. And it seemed to be a strangely familiar smile, and I thought I was going mad altogether after all the atrocities I had witnessed and even took part in. Then He disappeared behind the rock and was gone for ever. And all was so quiet and still and silent that I remembered it was really Christmas day. And if it were not for the dead bodies of the now motionlessly lying on the rocks bearded armed men, and the burnt carcass of my old jeep, I could have thought I must had had a horrible nightmare. But there they were all of them, pitiful victims of the horrible massacral battle between men and ... and Whom? I sat down on the ground and suddenly I started to cry. Tears were flowing freely down my cheeks and fell on the ground in big hot dirty drops, but I did not care to wipe my cheeks nor even noticed. Then I felt so exhausted that I lay on the ground and fell asleep. When I woke up the sun was already high in the hot blue sky. I drank all the water there was left in my flask and started to get ready to go away from this terrible, tragic place. I had to hurry, because I could not be sure of what was awating me, and I had no more my jeep and had to go on foot. But strange as it might seem, there was no real fear in my heart any more, because I felt I was under the protection of Someone really big and really strong. Someone much stronger than me or you or any human being. And I felt so happy and lighthearted, as if by some trick of magic I was taken back to my early childhood and my Mom and Dad were with me returned from the Beyondland. And then suddenly I remembered all. I remembered the first Christmas I had with my real brother Andy, and how happy and proud I was I had got a real five year old brother who could play ball and hide-and-seek with me and who could help me to eat my big dish of oatmeals porridge for breakfast and whom I could call Andy. And I remembered the words He whispered into my ear before I fell asleep: you saved me, and some day I’ll save you. Незабаром читайте Український переклад
Написати рецензію	Рекомендувати іншим

Рецензії на цей твір

really good post
© Luk, 04-10-2008

Пішітє граждані на всєх язиках каториє ви знаєтє. Абязатєльна дєлайтє етО ЗдєЦ, то єсть здєсь!!
На цю рецензію користувачі залишили 2 відгуків
© В:тал:й, 04-10-2008

really good post
© Victor, 04-10-2008

hhfgdgdf
© srths, 21-07-2008

hhfgdgdf
© xghsh, 18-07-2008

hhfgdgdf
© srthsrth, 14-07-2008

hhfgdgdf
© srthsrth, 13-07-2008

hhfgdgdf
На цю рецензію користувачі залишили 1 відгуків
© srthsrth, 23-06-2008

fsoxai
© Aloys, 30-04-2008

Нє, ребята, так діло не пойдьот!
На цю рецензію користувачі залишили 11 відгуків
© Володимир Чернишенко, 24-05-2007

No i cóż to za popisy, cwaniaczku!
© Тед Лещак Статус: Добрий критик, 21-05-2007

Ду ю спіко мексіканіше ленгвідж ту, френдо?
© Олесь Бережний Статус: Гуру, 21-05-2007

Протестую, пане суддя.
© Олександр, 21-05-2007

Шось я нічого не зрозумів
© Alex Pysarew, 21-05-2007

Згенеровано за 0.0113940238953 сек.

Усі права застережено.
Всі права на сайт належать ТОВ «Джерела М»
Авторські права на твори та рецензії належать їх авторам.
Дизайн та програмування KP-design