Читать книгу Direville - Lina Dee - Страница 4

The sea storm has started; the wind raged, and the waves tumbling over each other reached over twenty feet in height.

No ships, vessels, or liners could be seen from the shore – only enormous water giants threatening to swallow the flickering beacon again and again.

The wind pushed the waves onto the sand to lick away the remaining footsteps. The family that had left them were hurrying home, away from the onsetting storm.

Two little girls were running ahead of two adults. Their loose overalls swung in the wind that filled them like sails and made the children’s hair dance.

Their mother in a tight lilac dress ran after, her thick long wavy hair gathered into a braid. Playfully chasing her daughters, she laughed, happy that finally their family had managed to spend a free day together.

The pensive father walked quickly behind the three. He was a zeppelin pilot. Even off duty, he had his blue uniform on. His jacket was adorned with golden buttons and emblems; he was wearing his service cap, too. Looking adoringly at his wife and daughters, he thought of his own childhood.

The pilot’s name was Peter, his wife’s, Stephanie, and their daughters, – Rosa and Vera.

The wind wouldn’t cease. They were about to start ascending the slope when the wind snatched the father’s blue cap off his head. Making a circle in the air, it landed in the nearby bushes.

Startled, Peter put his hands over his head, while his daughters ran, overtaking each other, to get the cap.

A roar of thunder came from the distance, and a seagull flying over their heads let out a series of hysterical cries into the darkening sky.

Happy as they were about the day so well spent, now they couldn’t wait to return to the safety of their home and get warm.

Wet splashes weren’t licking the necks, arms and other open parts of their bodies with their cold tongues anymore, but the rain that had begun threatened to turn into a shower at any moment.

The eight-year old Rosa, slipping awkwardly, stretched out on the wet grass, trying to get the cap that was now in her reach.

She had a big scratch on her elbow, and was on the verge of tears as she rose from the ground, her father’s cap in her hand – but suddenly, a dirty box that lay on its side deeper in the bushes caught her attention.

Rosa slowly approached the object. She suddenly wanted to know what it could contain. She squatted, grabbed the box, opened it just enough to see inside, and discovered a cellulose toy dwarf.

– A little dwarf! – she exclaimed, happy at the find, forgetting all about the scratch on her arm and even her Dad’s cap.

Once colourful, the dwarf, now covered in soil and sludge, had been obviously brought by the sea – but how did it get to that place so far from the shore?

– Perhaps, some big dog brought it here… – Vera, who was two years older Rosa, suggested. She carefully checked her sister’s clothes, and also started looking at the dwarf, wondering how it could have gotten into those bushes, and who had owned it before.

There was something unusual about the dwarf, and the girls sensed it.

If not for the strong wind, the gathering darkness and the unraveling storm, the girls would hardly have succeeded in persuading their parents to allow them to take the dwarf home: the adults disliked the idea, saying that whoever it had been that had thrown the toy away, simply hadn’t bothered to go all the way to the trash heap. However, the father decided, that, since his daughters wanted the dwarf so much, they were to wash it and get rid of the box in the morning – on that condition, it could stay and share a shelf with the other toys in their room.

As the family reached home, the children, tired, cold, and soaked to the bone, took the box to their bedroom to clean the dwarf right after they would wake up.

Before going to bed, Rosa and Vera checked on the dwarf a number of times each, fearing that, like a naughty kitten, it could disappear unless properly looked after.

Hours into the night the wind finally began to subside. Soon the storm was over, the sea had calmed, and a full blood moon came out to shine in the black night sky.

Vera muttered something in her sleep and turned over to the other side.

More time passed.

The box rustled; a bright amber light with a scarlet shade enveloped it; the lid lifted, and the dwarf, now alive, climbed out. The little fairy-tale man checked his hazel-colored hat, took a quick nimble stroll about the house, and, returning to the children’s bedroom, hurried to the window, the heels of his tiny dirty boots tapping on the floor as he walked. Reaching the wall, the dwarf sneezed and, shaking off the remaining dust and sludge, jumped up on the windowsill.

Pushing the frame, the dwarf paused, yawned lazily, and then, hopped out. He had to get back to the shore while the Blood Moon still shone, for it was that very night when he could cross the vast sea, return to his ship, and avenge himself on the young sailor boy who had thrown him aboard.

The morning came.

The first rays of the sun touched the children’s beds and danced on the walls.

Rosa, who was the first to wake up, ran at once to the box. Not finding the dwarf inside, she noticed tiny footprints and chunks of sludge on the floor, leading to the crack-open window.

Rosa cried bitterly, pressing the box to herself, and her sister awoke, hearing the noise.

– We’ll be waiting for you! – Vera said as she approached the window and put her arms around her little sister’s shoulders.

– We won’t close the window, I promise! – Rosa added softly.

Rosa and Vera stood by the window, greeting the new day. Their parents were, apparently, still in their beds, the house wasn’t filled with the smell of cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate the girls were used to waking up to.

The morning smelled of the sea.