Читать книгу Confession of a Ghost. F.M. Dostoevsky award. Playing Another Reality - Alexandra Kryuchkova - Страница 24

“Oh! I was waiting for you! Let’s go for a walk!” Dimitra exclaimed as she met me returning from the Akathist reading, and her intonation foreshadowed a storm.

A walk for the locals meant to walk three houses up from the Tower towards the border with Athos and come back slowly. In case of a long walk, in addition, to go down from the Tower to the pier and return to the Tower. If the walk was global, plus five houses along the sea street and back to the Tower. When Kiri’s father was insisting on giving me a ride in his car from the sea street to the central one, with a house between, I refused, but I couldn’t refuse Socrates’ offer to ride with a breeze from the sea street to the street following the central one, since the distance had been already doubled.

Dimitra was born in a house with their icon shop opposite the Tower. Her parents still lived there. Dimitra’s own house as cottage next to Nicolette’s house was 5—7 minutes walking from the Tower. For local residents, such distance was subject to travel by bus, car or motorbike, and walking from the Tower to the border with Athos, where I read the Akathist, was almost a feat.

Dimitra resolutely headed upward.

“What’s happened?” I asked.

“Let’s go and look for Vasilios! You have no idea! Evil is not enough for these relatives! I don’t know about Russia, but we celebrate a great holiday on May the 1^st in Greece. We all get together at my place in the fresh air around one big table. We all – me and …” Dimitra went on with her list of cousins, brothers and sisters, she had twenty of them, as well as more distant relatives.

“Yes, we also celebrate the 1^st of May,” I said.

“So here it is! Vasilios is my best friend! A decent, honest, good man! He believes in God! Do you understand? Believes, not just baptized! Imagine! No, it’s unbearable! Vasilios has a family! Wife and two kids! They have nothing to eat!”

“So what’s happened?”

“Angel!” exclaimed Dimitra, and I involuntarily shuddered, and she continued, “He started chasing him!”

“I don’t understand,” I said honestly.

“Angel is husband of the cousin of the husband of my husband’s third cousin’s niece! Yes, we all grew up here under my mother’s roof! And he keeps sniffing everything! Oh, can you imagine? Angel ate and drank with Vasilios, and now runs to the police!”

“Why the police?” I couldn’t get it yet.

“Vasilios comes to the village to sell olives! He grows and cooks them himself! Well, he has no other way to feed his family! He lives in the mountains, there is no work but large olive gardens there. We all have olives. Sometimes I pick more than 3,000 kg from one-two-three and not more trees. Who else, but tourists, might need Vasilios’ olives? And Angel is stalking him, running around like a bloodhound, knocking on the police to drive him out of the village! Vasilios has nothing to eat! Olives in stores cost three times more than he sells. Vasilios has the most organic product! We need to find him urgently and warn him!”

“Listen, why does Angel do this?”

“Here you are! That’s what I’m talking about! He’s got crazy! Imagine what I feel! Because of kinship, I have to say hello every day!”

We passed three houses, and then, not finding Vasilios, turned back to the Tower for a long walk, to the pier.

“And some ones,” Dimitra continued, “claimed our house by the Tower! My grandmother lived in a box in the courtyard of the house near the Tower, where we park the car now. So, many years ago, my grandmother sheltered a family out of pity, they had nowhere to live. When we all grew up, my grandmother said, ‘Sorry, my house is for Dimitra’. In fact, it was a doghouse, not a house! And imagine, they sued my grandmother! They were just passing by! I paid 21,000 euros only to the lawyer, and my grandmother’s house couldn’t stand it and collapsed! There is our car parked there now, because nothing else fits in the space! It was such a small house!”

“All the same is everywhere,” I thought, but didn’t burden Dimitra’s sorrows with my memories and shifted my gaze to the islands, behind which the sky was flashing with lightning.

“Well, Vasilios isn’t here either, let’s look further! There’s also a monster in the village! I have one life and one icon shop. One and a small one, mind you. I wash it every day, clean and clean it, polish it to a shine. And he… it’s unbelievable! He sees nothing but money! The rent here is at least 45,000 euro! Well, where are you going? Think of God! No, there are numbers with zeros in his eyes! Socrates is another matter! He has a hotel on the main street, a restaurant, and a shop. A billionaire, but a good man! We both say, ‘they don’t make money on icons!’ Vasilios is not here either! Where the hell is he? I’ve called him, no answer! Okay, let’s go back.”

“Does he have an icon of St. Basil? I visited a cave monastery in Montenegro with the relics of St. Basil of Ostrog. He lived at the beginning of the 17^th century, visited Mount Athos, became a bishop at the age of 28 in a Serbian monastery. A kind Saint, helps everyone. In that monastery, in addition to his relics, there is a healing spring, and a magical grape grows out of the mountain, and pilgrims leave their wish notes in crevices.”

We returned to the shop. I happily flopped down into the chair. Dimitra offered coffee, but it was too stuffy, the electronic scoreboard outside the pharmacy showed us +32C at 10:30 pm.

“Family icons?” Dimitra suggested a topic for another conversation. “Well, ‘The Holy Family’ with Mary, Joseph and Christ. Their hands are merged together. For a strong family. What else, if they asked me more, I’d say to buy any image of the Virgin Mary. And you?”

“Saints Peter and Fevronia of Murom. I have their Russian icon – Peter hugs Fevronia, they hold a dove in their palms, while the dove also has a halo. ‘The Tree of Christ’ and ‘The Tree of the Virgin Mary’ are good to pass on as inheritance in order to preserve the genealogical tree. For me, the icon of the Royal Family, Tsarina Alexandra, is important. Her name was Alice before she changed her religion for Orthodox. The Athos icon ‘The Elder’, or ‘Gerontissa’, helps old people.”

“Yes, she warns the monks on Athos about their transition to the Other World and fills the cellars with food, almost like the ‘House-Builder’, although ‘The Elder’ is depicted not sitting on the throne, but in full growth, in slippers on a ceramic floor with a jug from which oil flows.”

“Icons of Saints whose names are or were present in the family. Anna, Mary and Christ as grandmother, mother and son.”

“What about ‘The Fourth Generation’? You were the first to take it from me, and then a Londoner! Such a mysterious icon! You even asked me to call the twin monks on Athos for comments, but they refused to comment on it.”

“Yes, this icon as well. A non-canonical icon. In Italy it is called ‘Motherhood’, translated from Greek as ‘The Fourth Generation’. Three women – the Virgin Mary, her mother and grandmother – and the baby Christ. All very different in height and size, like a matryoshka, nesting doll. When I was in India, we were brought to a mountain gorge, where figures of giants of various sizes were carved into the rocks. We looked like ants against the background of even the smallest figures there. ‘The Fourth Generation’ reminds me of the legend about the 4 races of humanity, starting with the Elohim and ending with us.”

“All sorts of places you’ve been to, Alice! We plan to go to Morocco. I like to travel too!”

Suddenly… no, it was surreal! A man, a secular man, not a monk, floated past us to the Tower … in a black business suit and a white shirt with a tie … in a long unbuttoned black coat! He was holding a black umbrella-cane and a black leather briefcase. He wore a black felt hat on his head! The electronic scoreboard was still showing +32C!

“Dimitra,” I whispered, afraid to frighten the stranger off, but she jumped up from her chair, as if scalded.

“Vasilios!” Dimitra ran after the passing car, the back of which was an open area loaded with olives.

Oh curiosity! I pulled myself away from the chair and swam after the mysterious stranger, giving Dimitra the opportunity to chat with her friend. In the meantime, the stranger walked to the pier and, looking at the cloudless sky, opened his umbrella (!) as wide as I opened my eyes, and froze at the Tower, periodically glancing at his wristwatch, like people waiting for a bus. But the bus stop wasn’t there! Besides, at that hour there were no buses in Ouranoupoli! And what about an open umbrella and completely inappropriate attire for +32C? Why didn’t anyone pay attention to him?!

My phone rang.

“Ray! Save me! The man… in black… he…”

“He drops out of context, right?”

“Yes, he’s not here, or not from here!”

“Come up to him, it’s time to wake up!”

As I walked the man closer and closer, the space changed right in front of my eyes! The Mist enveloped the Tower, and it turned into a city house at a bus stop! Yes, it was raining and cold there! To my right, I noticed the typical red call-box of London!

“No!” I screamed in horror, closed my eyes and opened them on Athos, in Ouranoupoli. The Tower was still there. The man disappeared.

I returned to Nicolette’s house in a flash to catch my breath. Having grabbed the key, I went up to my top floor. I habitually opened the door and inserted the key into the automatic switch of electricity. The light turned on.

“What’s that? Where are my stuff? Who took all away? Where are the icons I has left on the second half of the bed? Where is my laptop?”

And the wardrobe! It was empty and had no trace of anyone’s presence! I rushed to the bathroom, then to the balcony. Oh no! I flew down the stairs and rang frantically at Nicolette’s doorbell. She appeared sleepy and looked around, understanding nothing.

“Where is my stuff?” I exclaimed.

Nicolette silently looked at me with a sleepy look and slammed the door. I decided to return to Dimitra. In a flash, I covered the distance to her shop and saw that it was … closed. I looked at the electronic scoreboard, it was +23C at 0:00.

I rushed to Dimitra’s house. She might not be sleeping yet. However, there was no light in. I flew inside – no one, as if the owners had left somewhere …

“Dimitra!” I screamed from impotence into the void and collapsed in despair on the porch in front of her house.

“What’s happened, darling?” suddenly came the voice of the old lady from Austria, who lived in the white-and-blue house opposite.

“You are a ghost!” I realized suddenly. “I need to see Joice!”

Tower of Ouranoupoli

“You are back, thank God!” Joice greeted me on the balcony, smiling, and I threw myself into her arms. “Well, calm down, darling! Let’s drink tea by the fireplace and recite poetry!”

Joice lit the fireplace with her eyes, visualized two cups and a teapot, invited me to sit in the chair opposite and asked,

“What kind of tea do you prefer?”

“What kind do you have?”

“Any,” Joice laughed. “Come up with your own recipe, which has never existed before, and it will instantly appear in the teapot!”

“Jasmine,” I whispered. “Everything is so unusual!”

“It’s unusual for everyone at first,” Joice encouraged me, pouring tea into ghostly cups. “How long ago did you leave for our World?”

“I don’t remember,” I sighed. “Ray said I had asked Heaven to erase my memory. Now I’m connecting to selective fragments of the Past, experiencing them as here and now. Everything is in chaos. I can’t restore the chain of events.”

“Ray, who is he?”

“Ghost of a sorcerer. He’s not allowed into Ouranoupoli, only as far as Trypiti. He said… what did he say to me? I can still do something before the 40^th day that would help me at Judgement.”

“You remember everything perfectly! How many days have passed?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“How did you leave your earthly body?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You need a plan of actions. First, remember what you haven’t finished and how many days you have until the 40^th. Memory is blocked by fear of pain. We the ghosts are usually drawn to Earth, to places where we felt good, or we try to complete something unfinished. Do you remember some prayers?”

“Only the shortest one. Though on Athos, I read the Akathist to the ‘Seeking for the Perished’!”

“Great! That icon helps in hopeless situations. Keep connecting to the Past, sit next to yourself on Athos, look at the text and read!”

“I’m connecting randomly!”

“With the power of thought, Alice. Everything here is done with it. Take the boat in the morning to the Holy Mountain, and then go to Moscow.”

“No! I don’t want to go back there!” I exclaimed.

“But, most likely, you didn’t finish something there, not on Athos. In the meantime, find out the date of your death to find out how many days are still available. You’re clearly stuck at the border. Ouranoupoli is the boundary zone between Earth and Heaven,” Joice sighed and the stairs creaked. “These are monks, don’t be afraid! Ghosts like us, they pray in the chapel under the roof.”

The phone rang.

“Aren’t you tired of visualizing the phone?” Ray asked.

“How else?” I asked back into the phone, understanding nothing.

“Where are you?”

“At Joice’s. In the afternoon, I’ll probably return home.”

“There’s nothing scary there,” Ray reassured me. “See you.”

The phone disappeared.

“How can you communicate without a phone?” I asked.

“You’ll learn soon,” Joice chuckled. “Shall we recite poetry?”

Looking through the tiny window of the Tower into the night, wrapped in a ghostly plaid visualized by Joice, in the armchair by the fireplace, periodically tasting the jasmine tea to the sounds of the waves crashing against the pier, I listened to her poems and slowly drifted into the slumber of the Mist enveloping my consciousness.

Courtroom in the Universe

There was a huge Cross in the center of a foggy room looking like an official meeting one, with a dim light, the source of which I couldn’t identify. On both sides of its horizontal bar, the bowls of Scales were hanging and swaying, and there was a movie screen above the Scales. There were winged creatures in the hall, I couldn’t see their faces, but I heard the continuous rustling of wings.

“Where is the handle?” an angel asked sternly. “Where did you hide it?”

“A handle… Hmm… What handle? I have no idea!” the devil yawned sweetly and scratched his belly with his tail. “I don’t understand what you mean!”

The angel threatened the devil with a cross, and he instantly slipped aside.

“Oh… put your weapon away! What’s the difference? Anyway, she’s ours!”

The devil poked his tail at me. I closed my eyes in fear. Suddenly, a voice announced a name, and silence reigned. Two creatures with scrolls to the right and left of the Scales prepared to take notes. A young man dressed as a monk approached the Scales, and as soon as he spoke, the movie screen turned on, frames began to be projected on it, and I remembered him! How old was he? He had come to me after my concert at their school and told me about his secret dream to become a monk against his parents’ wishes. We talked long then, but I didn’t remember what about.

He spoke quietly, but several times and quite distinctly I heard my name. Having finished his speech, the man said “thank you”, and a small shining ball of energy in the form of a heart flew into the right bowl. The Scales swung in search of balance.