Анастасия Мальцева

img_9579Анастасия Мальцева

Я давно пишу на русском языке, а в этом году решила попробовать свои силы и в написании литературных произведений на английском. Это очень увлекательное занятие: и сам процесс, и созерцание его результатов. Меня вдохновляют работы любимых авторов, чьи имена я утаю, музыка и жизнь. Увлекаюсь современной зарубежной литературой, рок-музыкой и кинематографом. Люблю английский язык и уже который год «учу» испанский.

I’ve been writing in Russian for a pretty long time and this year I’ve decided to try myself in writing in English. I am inspired by my favorite writers, singers and life. I like modern foreign literature, rock-music and cinematography. Some time ago I noticed an interesting thing that some people tried to diagnose authors by reading their stories. What can I say? Go ahead.


Рассказ "The Search"

Отрывок

She decided to wait, not forgetting about silently checking up on her going mad husband. By the Sunday afternoon Sandra had dropped the idea of eliciting the desirable reply. Shejustwaited. Stillandnervously. She was motionlessly looking at the TV screen, not seeing anything that was offered by media kings and second-quality stars. From time to time she sipped long time ago cooled bergamot tea without tasting it. It felt as if she switched herself to standby mode, feelingsfrozen, minddesolated. Howlongwoulditlast? How long Sandra would be able to stand it all? “God!” Mark was shaking dust off his shabby pajamas. Sandra slowly, as if it was too dangerous to turn, shifted her gaze to her suddenly appeared husband. What was she afraid of? That he came here to chop her into pieces with a goddamn axe he had been searching for? Or maybe she simply couldn’t believe that it really happened and feared that it was just an optical illusion that would vanish into thin air as soon as she looked at it? “You’d better give that hole a chance to be cleaned more than once a year, sugar. I’ll take a shower and then it would be so cool if you fed me. I’m starving.” “Really?..”mumbled Sandra. Shewasconfused.Even more than when Mark had been sticking in that stupid cellar. “Are you ok?” he wondered. “Me?..” She swallowed hard. “Sure you, silly.” Mark carefully bowed to kiss his wife in a cheek without soiling her. She stayed still like a caterpillar trying to pretend a branch. “Em…fine… I guess,” she muttered when Mark stepped back. “Yeeeeeeeeend the answer is CORRECT!” screamed the show host from television. “Good. Don’tforgetaboutmeal, deal?” “Uh-huh…” Sandra automatically prepared some food, ate it with Mark after him taking hot shower and couldn’t help asking the same question that was still bothering her. “What were you looking for?” “Nothing.”Hesmiled. “Nothing?” “Yeah, that’sright, nothing.” Sandra stared at her husband and spoke in measured tones, “Are you telling me that all this garbage was for NOTHING? “Oho…” Hehemmed. “Ithoughtyou’dgonemad!” she shouted. “Calmdown, everything’sfine. I’mnotmad. Don’t you see?” “Yeah, but you were. And maybe you are… just…  came to your senses for a while,” saying this Sandra realized the meaning of her assumption. “Oh… Sandy, honey. I’m not and I weren’t and totally not going to be mad. Itwasformyresearch. Forwork.” “Inourbasement?” Sandra threw up her eyebrows. “Notexactly. Itwasanexperiment. AndIwas – heh -aguineapig.” “You? Aguineapig? For your research? In our basement?” “You got the point,” Marksmirked. “No, I didn’t,” she cut him short. “And stop smiling. You’reactingsostrange. Idon’tevenrecognizeyou. Was it a purpose of your silly experiment to make yourself a prick?” “That’s funny.” “No, it’s not!” “I mean your joke about my pur–“ “It’s not a stupid joke, Mark!” Sandra was losing her composure. “Ok-ok, I get it. You’re not ready for jesting. I’ll tell you what–” “What?” “Bepatient, Sandy. I’vegotsomethingtosharewith you. But it’s a secret. Promise to keep it?” “A secret about that… that stuff happened?” “Right. About that – ha -stuff.” “Spit it out.” “A secret, remember?” “Yeah, I do,” she blurted out with impatience. “You’ll keep it?” “Just tell me!” “First promise me to keep it.” He was grinning. Almost insensiblybutgrinning. “Ok, fine! I promise you to keep your stupid secret.” “Cool. Nowlisten. The point is that a human brain is a kind of a computer, right?” “So? Are you going to tell me all well-known theories or share something really covert?” “We can program a computer.” He paid her no mind. “And as our brain is a computer we can program it, too.” Sandra folded her arms wishing to hear the reasons of her husband’s recent behavior not milk and water. “And now I know how.” “How to program a human?” “Yeap!” Mark smugly leaned back on a couch. “And… so?” “Iprogrammedmyself! Can’t you see?” “You did what?” “I mean I’m not programmed right now. But I was. I made myself search for a hidden paper with an unprogramming code.” “But why didn’t you tell me before?” Sandra was almost crying. “I’d programmed myself to forget. That’s the point! It was a totally clear experiment! I didn’t even know that I was in it, get it?” “And… it is not going to happen again? This… this…” “Stuff?” Mark laughed. Sandra couldn’t speak because of the tears streaming all over her reddish face. “It won’t happen again, I swear.” He pulled his crying wife closer and clasped his arms around her. “Easy, easy, honey.” Mark was trying to calm her down. “Everything is fine. D’you hear me?” “Uh-huh…” After Sandra quieted she wanted to know the rest. “Is it your project claiming to be the one to make you a Nobel Prize winner?” “It used to be. But now I don’t think that the world should find anything out about my discovery. It could be used for bad intensions. So I’d better keep it to myself.” “Well, maybe… How does it work?” “It’s complicated, but looks pretty easy. You see, every program should be written specially for a particular purpose. I invented the programming language for human brain. A person doesn’t even know that he or she is being programmed. It will be able to be inserted in any language in the world in perspective. So look at this letter for example.” Mark pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “You can start reading it.” Sandra did. “Get anything?” “Well… it’s a common… letter…” “Sure. Itseemstobe. Keep reading.” She did. “What about now?” Sandra silently read the entire letter, set it aside and asked, “Would you like me to give you a foot massage?” Очень плохоПлохоУдовлетворительноХорошоОтлично (Без рейтинга)
Загрузка...