One Night [short story]

A star appeared in the dark sky. The first star. It was quite late – though it was autumn already, it was obvious that the evening was about to turn into night. You realize it by making little observations. The number of lights in the windows of houses shrinks, the noise of the streets dies down. And even what remains from nature in the urban environment shows that it is time for sleep. And in this dark, almost night, but (as it is autumn) completely dark sky, the first star appeared.

I looked up, looked at it, and asked “Why did you show up so late today?” To be honest, I don’t remember asking it out loud. I rather just thought it. That is not that important. And even though these were just thoughts, it was better yet, as they were more truthful and didn’t fall under the capture of language.

The star, having heard my question, remained silent. It just kept on flickering. In a way as it befits the first star – not too bright, not too catchy, but so that you immediately notice it. I set sights on the fact that the star certainly should have heard me (or apperceived – since the question was not asked by voice). After all, penetrating a language, mastering it, we limit the circle of those who would understand us and, moreover, we limit the transfer of meaning to those words that exist in that language. But if we communicate with thoughts and energies, then we do not have such restrictions. Anyone can understand us, understand our feelings, understand that elusiveness that lives beyond borders. A man, an animal, wind. That’s why I was sure that the star had heard me.

I glanced across the sky, from edge to edge. Darkness. No more stars. Only that lonely one kept flickering. And then I just stared at it and plunged into the blissful abyss of thoughtlessness. I just looked at it, thinking about nothing, just merging into a single whole with all that space between us.

Then it answered me. For a couple of seconds, the brightness of its light increased, and this made it look bigger. And then again it became the same as had been before.

I wanted to go out. I closed the window and, without even putting on my jacket, went outside. The wind was stronger than I’d thought while in the room. A true autumn wind that tore off the leaves remaining on the tree branches and then lowered them to the ground. I went to the part of the garden where the sky was best seen. Suddenly I felt like sitting right on the ground. Just like that, in spite of the fact that it had rained the day before and the fallen leaves decided to keep the moisture. And in spite of the earth had almost completely cooled down by that time.

I lowered myself, first sat down. I found that very first star in the sky. It seemed to be glad to see me. It asked me to lay. So I did. I was laying and looking at this small flame of light somewhere in an immeasurable space, feeling the moisture and cold on my back.

I began to breathe in the autumn smells and with them breathed in the feelings and thoughts of the sleeping world. And there was no lie in it. It was wonderful. It was beauty.

The star called me softly. And then, in one instant, I saw thousands and thousands of stars lit up in the sky. Like this, at once. They decided to appear not one after other, not gradually, but all at the same time. All at once.

I was laying. And all my thoughts and all my mind were replaced by the wind of the world, and the water from my eyes joined the water on the earth. The world continued to rest. And it felt so good.

A Dream? [short story]

I was having a dream.

At first I picked up smells. In a dream where first of all you see, then you probably hear and (maybe?) feel it was a queer thing to catch a smell first. It was tart, earthy, smoky. A smell that foreshadowed the depth of meaning of the upcoming meeting (and how did I know that there would be a meeting?)

Gradually, alongside with the smell penetrating through the nostrils and pores into the soul, the eyes kind of began to see clearly – the initially thick veil became thinner and thinner with each new raising of the eyelids. It took me to blink some twenty times before my vision get back to right. Apparently, it was necessary. Apparently, the seen was not supposed to be seen instantly. It was necessary to prepare for it.

The eyes gradually began to distinguish a silhouette in front of them. It had human forms. Its movement spoke of anticipation, not a painful one, but long-awaited. These were not sudden twitches and not complete immobility, but repeating turns of the head, soft movements of the hands, as if on some surface. I was starting to see long gray hair, and simple dark clothes like a cloak. Little by little I realized that there was a table between us (and we were sitting opposite each other) and began to distinguish some objects on it. There was a plate with some simple food, a couple of lighted candles, and five playing cards, laid out face down. The rest of the pack was not visible.

Then I heard a voice. Although it arose all of a sudden, it did not surprise or frighten – it appeared a clear continuation of the silence that had been before. This voice seemed to be continuing a conversation that had been going on for half an eternity. By tone and pitch, I could not understand in any way who it belonged to, a woman or a man. I tried to look into the face. It was still incomprehensible: the features of thousands and thousands of faces flowed in it, creating an indistinct image.

Then I looked around and didn't see the walls. But there was nothing else either. As if we were everywhere and nowhere. We were the space and an infinitely small part of it.

This human in front of me (or one who put on human shape) said that it was time to open the cards. And while I nodded my head in the affirmative, my inner voice thought it looked like some kind of fortune-telling, but immediately convinced itself that it was not. (And yet, where is the pack? And why are the cards already on the table?)

My companion reached out to the first card and opened it. It was a ten of clubs. “Well, not bad,” I thought, as if I understood the rules by which the whole process took place. Meanwhile my partner immediately and without hesitation opened the second one. There was the sun drawn in the middle, in two directions crossing the horizon, that divided the card in two. I stared at this image, as if it could reveal the meaning of all. The person across noticed that I rushed things and that it was worth opening all the cards first.

With that, the person took the third card with both hands and, without looking at it, showed it to me. It was a mirror. In that card I saw myself. My usual features, my face. And, although the mirror card of course was itself an unusual thing, it didn't really strike me, and we moved on to the next one.

"Be ready," I heard the calm words of my companion. I wanted to ask the question "to what?" But, apparently, the said phrase did not imply questions, since the card was already taken in hand and a moment later it was opened.

And then everything around suddenly began to shake, the table at which we were sitting began to twitch, as in an earthquake, the whole space seemed to jump up and down and collapsed every moment into an uncountable number of fragments. I had a feeling that we were endlessly falling somewhere, and that the world was crumbling, and that it did not have much time left. It seemed that all the sounds of despair got together at that moment. In the midst of the noise, I heard the voice striving to reach me, "This card is emptiness!" and immediately after that, "Now it's your turn!"

Strugglingly I reached out to the last card, grabbed it, turned it over...

And woke up. Having recovered from the dream, I felt that I had known something important and that I had completely forgotten it.

A Year of Stories

A year of stories. And I’m not talking about 2020. I declare 2021 the year of stories. Though it’s bold of me to give the year its name, its destiny. But generally, what is the point?

I decided to take a "writing assignment". Over the next year, I will write stories that I will then publish on social networks and on my blog on the site. A new story for every new week. This makes 52 stories in total by the end of the year.

Honestly, I don't quite know yet what the stories will turn out to be, what will be plot and genres. It's always the same with me. I just lay myself out to the creative flow. I just write. And I invite you to watch the stories emerge and come to life.

The beginning of my whole venture and the publication of the first story is on December 21st. This is the winter solstice and it is on this date that days will start to gradually lengthen and the new year will begin.

Of course, the past year made it very clear to us once again that planning ahead can be completely useless... Well, then it will be even more interesting to see what will be the end of this literary marathon.

P.S. I remind you that English is not my first language. And I ask you not to faint at the sight of a mistake (but I will work as much as possible to avoid them). These will be stories without any kind of editing and corrections. This way you will be able to see how my books look before the editor polishes them.