DSCF1621Мне 22 года. Пишу в течение четырех лет, преимущественно прозу малой формы. Сама перевожу свои произведения с русского на английский.

I’m 22 years old. I’ve been writing for four years, mainly short stories and flash fiction. I translate my works from Russian into English on my own.

Mon Valet!

I could drag you from the ocean

I could pull you from the fire

When you’re standing in the shadows

I could open up the sky…

Hurts “Somebody To Die For”


You told me: “My Knave!”

You swore to love me.


*        *        *

The cold air dries my skin. And burns down its cells. I go on the thin ice. Careless walking. Bloodless. I guess the wintered Hell might look like that place.

Your house is still standing there, far away beyond the horizon. Empty and bleak. I’ve already forgotten that day when I appeared there for the first time. And when I left it at last. With the dust of my heart which burnt down. I remember your laugh – you just threw it away behind the sill.

I remember your laugh. And your perfume. It is as different each time as your mood. I remember the colour of your skin and could call the temperature of your touch precisely. It is warm everytime even after being frozen.

Here, in the distant place at the end of this World and this Universe. At the threshold of new lives. In this forgotten place, I have no idea by whom – by God or by Devil, I wish I did not recall the taste of your tea which you used to treat to me.

Here, in this desolate place, the wind corrodes my face. I’m trying to heat my asleep hands. Already pale. With huge thrashed blue veins. They are dry and rough. Are almost frozen to death.

Here, in this snow-bound Paradise, I’m walking on the keen ice. Leaving a scarlet trace behind myself. My feet are bleeding from the thousands small ice-foes. Icy needles stick into my heels. I breathe white haze out of my mouth. I don’t know where I’m hastening to. I DON’T KNOW! I don’t know where I’m running away and what I’m in flight from. Nobody can catch up with me here. Nobody can get me at that dank earth with the frozen ocean around.

I’m running so fast. Gasping from the race. Falling down. Each time. And I look around. I want to be sure that here I would not be tracked down.

I’m running on the light ice. Falling through. Howling from my wounds. The water is salt. The ground crumbles under my feet. The snow is melting from the warm body. The drops of the water remain on the fingers. Now the sharp wind is biting it more. The snow is tangling into my hair. The skin grows pale. The lips are bitten to blood. Anything but not to look back!

Anything but not to look back! Everything has been lost for me there. Here I’ll never be found. For that reason I’ve been making my way.

You told me: “My Knave!”, didn’t you?!

And you swore to love me forever!

But now I remember only the day when you sent me away. Chucking out from your heart. You left me like a hungry dog on the street. My dear, my sweet! And where is your sham devotion now?!

I wish I would have no memory. Erase hide all the years which I’d been spending with you. I wish all your languid deceitful glances and sighs to be flying away in the sky with the wind. If only could you know about my dream to forget the rhythm of your heels!

I fall in the snow. Gulping from weeping. The warm blood is running from my eyes. I need to stand up and carry on fleeing. My body is trembling. The strength has almost run out.

Here, in this crypt abandoned by the whole world. There is no even Raven-the-Herald-of-Close-Death flying. Here I’ve been recalling your clear voice and laugh till now. But they seemed to have been so forgotten for me not long ago.

And niveous veil comes down from the sky. It is the purest without a drop of the mud. You know, I guess, you’re unlikely to realise why I abandoned you so unexpectedly fast.

You won’t understand. I could even imagine that today I won’t come to your house. You’ll lay the table for dinner again. You’ll be waiting for me till the night. And then, just shrugging your shoulders, you’ll go to bed.

I remember exactly that I had to draw up at some moment. To say: “Stop!” to myself. To end all our sufferings. But once you called me: “Mon Valet!” You started up my cool blood.

You told me once that you would love me forever. And I was ready to jump into vortex. Jump from the highest mountain. I was ready to save you from all over the miseries existing on Earth.

I was always ready to die for you. See! I WAS ALWAYS READY TO DIE! However, you’d have benefited a lot from my death and wouldn’t have left me the dust from my bones.

Here, in the place of dying rest. Here a new day begins. The dim sun is blinding my eyes. Filled with red tears. The blood is flowing on my arms. Thin trickles are running down on my ankles leaving the bloody salty sea. Now no bank could bind the pain of my heart.

And so by now, in my agonal hour, the final one. Let me recall for the last time…

Your kisses are cold. I’m kneeling in the snow.

Your favourite colour is scarlet. Like the blood gnawing my eyes.

You loved drinking coffee with milk. Silently I’m wrapping my wet raincoat up.

You used to link your arm through my arm. I’m gripping a sword-hilt harder.

And it was you who threw dirt at me…

I’m whacked out; I’m lying on the sleet. The snowflakes are falling on my uncovered head. I’m listening to the whisper of nature. The cradle song before I’m dead.

Yeah, I remember. Your kisses are used to be cold…

And I… Maybe, once I’ll return.


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