Атаманов Антон

Моя фотографияЯ студент факультета международных отношений. Увлекаюсь изучением иностранных языков (английский, французский) и историей. Это моя первая публикуемая работа художественного стиля. До этого занимался переводами только для новостных порталов.
Работу, которую я перевёл, написал мой брат. Он написал рассказ, его девушка нарисовала иллюстрацию, а я сделал перевод. Знакомых, кто мог бы снять фильм, к сожалению, не нашлось. Но у нас ещё много лет впереди.

Перевод рассказа “Прямо в сердце”

Right in the heart

The very next day Mary with her parents had moved to Occerville she took fancy to meadow on the town’s edge. The meadow was a calm lonely place where the girl could play games which only she could understand. Anny always took a plastic spade and a bucket with her for the games. Then she would find a place where grass was not too thick and pull it out with her hands or, in the most complicated cases, dig it up with the spade. Then Anny would bring water and mix it with the earth. Joyfully, she made wonderful castles out of the produced dirt though neither her peers nor parents liked them. That was mother who had to wash out prints of the creativity from the dresses, not Anny, which she paid to the full. However, Anny loved what she did in spite of the others’ silent protest. Moreover, she always found the most solitary place, did her best not to mess her clothes up and returned home for dinner. They could not ask for more as the girl thought. The inner voice told that Anny was a good girl and she listened.

But the girl was not alone for long. Once she was so deep into dirtworking that she erected a building almost of her size. She was popping around correcting her creation with the spade, cutting off spare pieces and adding new ones. While doing this she was caught by a stranger. The inner voice told her “Look back!” and she looked. A little boy of about her age was peering at her. The girl was looking at him in silence hoping that he would leave after a while – the boy didn’t. As well as he did not say anything insulting or try ruining the dirt castle. In contrary, he said “It’s beautiful”. The blond boy with brown eyes praised Anny! It was the first time somebody had praised her! She was happy beyond limits, but the stranger boy didn’t have to know this. She went on constructing as though nothing had happened. “May I?” – the boy asked. Anny gave a silent nod and kept working. The boy immediately started to build outhouses up to numerous walls and towers. In-between he dropped “I’m Dave”.

Anny didn’t know which word other people used to describe such relationships. She and Dave spent more and more time together, played around, created, and, what had never happened to the girl before, chatted. Usually Anny had no one to speak with as she wasn’t interested in bows and dolls, while particularities of fortified constructions, which she studied by using books with pictures, were of little interest to her peers. Boys in their majority were bullies and called her down all the time, threw pieces of dirt at Anny and used other ways to attract her attention. Dave was different. He didn’t bother about her attention at all, as maybe any other’s attention. Dave just was and he did it well. When time passed Anny noticed that dirt from Dave’s hands is more obedient, the sun closer to him is warmer, the grass is brighter and greener while the air is clearer and fresher. At that time she didn’t understand yet why it was so pleasant to be near this queer boy, a boy as queer as herself.

Days and months passed on this way when at the end of the third months of the summer something disastrous happened. Dave was just showing Anny what he could do with a soccer ball though none of the local kids liked soccer. Boys followed examples of their fathers and starting from the cradle were keen on baseball, American football or basketball, dreaming that one day they will become great sportsmen. Dave didn’t dream of becoming great, he just kicked the ball and was amazingly good at it. Anny even switched her attention off the dirtworking for a minute to look how the boy exercises. Dave kicked the ball, twisted it, withheld on the foot by brief kicks, sent to his back and greeted it with the heel, threw it up to the chest, dropped to his knees, tossed up to his head, held on it. “I wish I could spin it around the head…” – complained Dave and went on playing with the ball as Anny couldn’t even imagine. Then something went wrong, a piece of dirt clang to a soccer boot and a kick got half-hit. Dave didn’t have time to catch the ball and work it up – it slipped to a road. The boy ran after it not to let it roll into bushes and farther down the slope where finding it would take years. “A car!” – Anny’s inner voice cried and she repeated after it. Dave heard the cry, a squeak of breaks and stood still thinking whether to run ahead or back. Bang sounded and the boy fell down. The car so resembling the father’s one took off immediately.

It took long for Anny to explain her parents what had happened. They were worried only about dirty hands and bedraggled daughter’s dress, not about traces in the dirt on her face left by tears. Finally when ambulance was called for Dave couldn’t be helped. Though Anny wasn’t present at hospital, parents’ silence said much. Only later, some days after the accident, Anny managed to overhear a conversation between her and Dave’s parents; they gave their condolences and mentioned casually that as a result of the accident Dave had two broken ribs and one of them hit…

The girl hadn’t know what to do for a week. She cried day and night. Mother tried talking to Anny but she didn’t listen and wanted to say nothing. Father pulled grass out on a quarter metre piece of land, watered it with a garden hose and mixed it in with his feet to a state of swamp slush. With great efforts he coaxed his daughter to go outside and see the surprise. Anny remained distracted during his coaxings but a view of the dirt breathed new life into her. She grabbed a spade and bucket and set upon work with those rapture and delight that she hadn’t felt for a long time. Then the inner voice said: “A car!” and Anny crushed with the spade a tower, which she had just constructed on the wall,. Tears as by themselves broke from her while the moment of Dave being hit by the car was playing again and again infinitely in her head. Anny cried worse than ever now.

Father and mother decided to try another way offering Anny a substitute for the boy named Dave. They chose a wooden doll looking like Pinocchio in construction and materials but that was all the likeness. Father brought the doll to Anny on the reason that he wanted her to meet a new friend, which she would certainly like. Later, when Anny agreed to meet him, Father showed her the doll saying “Meet Dave”. At first daughter looked shocked, puzzled in what had happened to the real Dave if he had turned into the doll. Then she understood that the piece of wood had no relation to the real boy, and Anny cried: “It’s not Dave!” She burst into crying and father had to leave. He left the doll on a bedside-table and said soothing “Let Dave stay here, okay?” He seriously thought that Anny would get used to the toy and their family would have one problem less.

The same night relationships between Anny and wooden Dave got better. Mother just finished reading a fairy-tale, tucked in and turned off the light when the girl sensed someone else in the room. “He is here!” – the inner voice shouted. Mother was closing the door when the stranger started: “It’s me, Dave!” Anny covered herself to the head with a blanket hoping to hide from the horror. The inner voice told “Don’t be afraid” and the girl looked over the blanket for a second – there was no one in the room. Then she got out up to her hips and heard the stranger’s voice again, but now she managed to find the direction. “I’m here” – said the wooden doll with Dave’s voice. He is back! Anny wanted to cry with rapture as happened that she couldn’t even dream of: her best and only man was back. It was stunning…

Week later she went to the first grade and couldn’t play much with the dirt. Parents, if they didn’t see it as a success, rehabilitation, at least thought it was a remission of her dirt mania. Anyway the girl’s cleanliness together with her finished hysterics meant much for them. Now the girl always carried the wooden Dave with her, discussed her successes and fails, played with him (even in dirt when it was possible). Relations with her peers were difficult as before. It got particularly bad when a curious classmate found out about the doll.

One of the boys constantly watched Anny and noticed that she didn’t ever part with the wooden doll. Nobody at school knew about the doll, but the bully watched and saw how the girl took the doll out when nobody was watching. It’s difficult to find now if the boy liked Anny or in contrary disliked but her attention seemed important to him. If he had to steal the bag with the doll or threaten in order to get attention the boy was ready. Once Anny left the class for a long time and the bully had time to get the bag. He freezed with it in his hands, when the girl came back. “Give it back” – said Anny. “Help me!” – said Dave. “No way! I know what is in it. If you want it so bad then come and get it” – the bully goaded her pretending he was going to throw it out of the window. Anny came. Then the whole school was talking nonsense about the silent girl having fed the bully up with dirt. Actually it was black play dough, but Anny was so often seen with dirt that they couldn’t distinguish the truth from a tale. Wooden Dave was gracious for his rescue, and Anny felt that this time she was able to help the friend for real.

Anny’s and Dave’s revived friendship got stronger day by day. Now he observed her doing homework. Once they even took bath together and poor Dave fell under the bath of embarrassment. All the rest was the best possible: Anny saw her as a bride and wooden Dave as a groom. She dreamt that one day they would get married and be together for the rest of their lives. Maternal rudiments woke up somewhere deep in her and she imagined children of dirt and wood – her and Dave’s issue. Anny was happy as never before.

The girl’s happiness was shaded only by a bad climate in the family. After the accident with Dave father started to come late from work with persistent stanch of alcohol and behave badly towards mother. Anny tried to ignore it with all her strength and live by her and Dave’s future when father beat mother. That night he got drunk particularly hard and was swearing mother so loudly that he overcried even Anny’s inner voice. At first mother answered, she was trying to resist but a loud rumble sounded and everything got quiet. The girl was afraid of leaving the room: father seemed a beast to her. Mother passed by the door of Anny’s room and locked herself up in the parents’ one. She was weeping. Dave wanted to help and asked Anny to let him speak with her father.

The girl in pyjama walked unconfidently along the second floor corridor, descended the stairs and found father at the kitchen. He fell asleep at the table supporting the head with his hands. A cigarette was glimmering at a side of his mouth. Anny set Dave on the table just in front of father. He opened one eye, then another, squinted and asked “What are you doing here, Anny? You should have gone to bed long ago”. “Dave wants to talk to you” – the girl answered. “The wooden doll wants to talk to me? Really? We will straight it.” – father said and grabbed the doll from the table. He got a bucket from the pantry and poured whiskey in. “No”! – cried Anny. “It will be a lesson for you, little bitch. You are stupid as your bitchy mother!” – said father and threw a match into the bucket. The alcohol didn’t set aflame at once and burnt slowly – lacquer coating of the doll burnt gradually. Then the fire started to eat Dave’s wooden limbs. Only Anny could hear cries of David dying the second time. Mother with a black eye came to the shouts of her daughter. She took Anny upstairs with force and locked her up in the room. Anny cried and shouted the name of the only boy in the world who mattered to her. Only embers remained of Dave.

Late in the night when Anny finally calmed down and fell asleep a voice woke her up. Again she heard the little freak: “It’s me, Dave”. Anny didn’t need a lot of time to find the source of the sound. There was a teddy bear at the headboard which became Dave bear. Anny reached at the toy, held him tight to her and hugged with all her strength saying: “I will never lose hold of you or show to anybody”. Now the girl was convinced that everyone who knew about Dave tried to take him away one way or another. Then, nobody should know about Dave. “We must do something” – the bear said – “Follow me”. Anny obeyed and didn’t wonder at all when teddy Dave approached the door, waited for her opening it and went forward.

The bear and Anny went to the kitchen, turned on the light and got to a drawer with knives. Dave thought for a long time which knife he likes most and finally chose a usual kitchen knife ignoring different backswords, knives with holes and hacks. They needed the most usual knife fit to cut and nothing more. Then Dave with the knife lead Anny upstairs, asked to carry him up to the second floor and there lead to the parents’ room. “It must be done” – said the bear, – “Open the door”. Anny pulled the knob – door wasn’t locked and it swung inside the room. The light from the corridor lighted up the parents’ room and father’s hairy feet. He tumbled, Anny shivered and wanted to go away. “We must finish it” – said Dave and climbed on the bed. He took the knife in both paws and lifted it over father’s belly. The first hit dipped the knife a bit above the navel. Dave got it out the belly with characteristic squish and prepared to stab once more. Immediately woken up by pain, father popped from the bed and tried to grab Dave but he slashed the victim in the hand and stabbed in the belly once more. There were in total eight punctured wounds when Dave called Anny up. At the moment Anny woke up and got into a corner asking “What are you doing Anny? What are you doing Anny? What are you doing Anny?” Dave put the knife into Anny’s hand and said to stab – she already knew where to strike.

When the girl came to herself with a blooded knife in her hand and understood that she had killed father she wanted to talk to Dave. She wanted the teddy bear to soothe her and say that she had done right, how she must have done. But Dave was not here anymore. There were only Anny, mother in hysterics and dead father with eight punctured wounds in his belly and only one, proved deadly, hit right in the heart.

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