Читать книгу Fanyasha: Why Do Angels Need People? - Марианна Россет - Страница 5

It was one of those sweltering summer days when life in the courtyard of building number 8 became filled with the sounds and smells of the weekend.

As always, at noon, all of the building’s residents of were busy with their usual chores. You could hear the jabbering of the Sunday news coming from the open windows, knives hammering on the cutting boards, the clattering of ladles and grease splattering in the frying pans.

Oh, the smell of the approaching Sunday lunch, when the whole family gets together to savor some truly delicious food! It takes some time to herd the kids inside. Then a chorus starts up, “Vi-i-i-tya, Nata-a-sha – come ho-o-o-me! Ta-a-nya! Let’s go eat!” Without a doubt, “Mo-o-o-m, can I play some more? I’m not hungry!” is heard in response.

Usually, in these moments, it’s as if time has stopped – after a huge family feast, the sounds slowly die down, and the courtyard becomes shrouded in a quiet afternoon nap.

But for now, the buildings and the courtyard were abuzz with activity. Swings were screeching incessantly around the corner of the building. A neighbor from the second floor was beating a rug loudly. The sound of a tiny voice and timid keystrokes could be heard from another window on the floor above. From the top floor came the sound of a horrible rattling – apparently someone had decided to drill a hole in the wall to hang a new painting. Somewhere behind the building, a motor started up and then shut down repeatedly, the car clearly refusing to cooperate with its owner, who ultimately swung a muffled kick into the tire.

Two elderly women were flapping their hands by the second entrance to the building, presumably discussing something awfully important.

“Hey! No drawing here! I am talking to you! Go draw on the asphalt over there!” one of the old women yelled to a girl who started drawing a sun on the brick wall of the building with colored chalk. The girl shoved the crayons into her dress pocket and ran to the playground.

An apple-cheeked boy was running around the slide, laughing happily, because his small, ruffled-up puppy could not catch him. All of the benches were occupied, except for the one further away at the end of the yard. The benches were surrounded by a few trees that created wonderful and necessary shade on this hot summer day.

A few kids were playing ball, yelling out the names of different cities. Close by, a few girls were laughing loudly and jumping over an elastic band tied between two tree trunks. Neighborhood boys swung by on their bikes, screaming happily, then left a cloud of dust. On the playground, the littlest ones got distracted for a brief moment following the boys with their eyes, then returned to restlessly banging their shovels.

Had the residents not been so busy with their things, they would surely have noticed that an unusual man appeared in the yard. Despite the hot weather, he was wearing a long dark purple raincoat that fell to the ground, with a large hood over his head. He was extremely tall, thin, and old, judging by his long grey beard.

The man walked softly through the yard, peering into the faces of its inhabitants. Everyone was actively engrossed in something and no one paid any attention to him.

Needless to say, people tend not to notice all of the strange things that happen nearby, even if this strange thing is as big as our silver-haired guest.

Meanwhile, the strange man walked slowly around the whole yard. Only the ginger cat, which was lying not far from the sand box, moved his tail, lazily turned his head, and with an attentive gaze followed the guest to the bench at the end of the yard. When the man quietly sat down and closed his eyes, the satisfied cat continued to lie in the sun with a feeling of accomplishment, and dozed off.

Suddenly, the sky turned dark, a strong wind started to blow, and clouds rushed in. Large raindrops fell loudly on the ground. The yard emptied in a matter of moments. It was hard to predict this sudden change in the weather, especially since the forecast did not mention even a possibility of rain. But in the meantime, the rain was coming down in buckets. It was so strong that not one of the residents of building number 8 could have made out the tall strange man in the dark purple raincoat sitting quietly at the end of the yard. He sat motionless, and, surprisingly, the rain did not bother him at all, as if there had been a huge open umbrella over him, and the water just flowed away from him on all sides.

The rain stopped toward evening, and right away a tear-streaked girl, about seven years old, ran into the yard. Splashing in puddles in her unclasped sandals, she ran all over the yard, searching for something that seemed to be very important to her. She peeked into the sandbox, circled the swings and the slide, checked under one bench and then another.

“It’s not here or anywhere,” she muttered through tears, totally exhausted.

The girl’s eyes filled with tears again, she leaned on the bench, covered her little face with her hands, and started sobbing.

“Why are you crying, dearest creature?” The girl heard an unfamiliar, but very pleasant voice.

This was the first time in her life that she was addressed with a formal “you” and was called a “dearest creature.” The girl turned around, and through her tears and the rays of the setting sun, she saw a large purple silhouette standing in the shade.

“It seems you have lost something, my dear?” the silhouette spoke again, approaching the girl, and she could make out a beautiful luminous face, framed by silver hair and beard with large blue sparkling eyes, and a soft, kind smile.

She had been taught never to talk to strangers, of course, but she had also been taught to be polite to older people.

“I wonder whose grandfather this is,” thought the girl, sorting in her mind through all of the boys and girls that she knew, but could not remember anyone who could be distinguished by such height, elongated facial features and big blue eyes.

This was because the girl knew for sure that relatives must resemble each other. That was what her mother always told her, showing her black and white photographs of her grandmother and grandfather, noting that they were also redheads and had green eyes.

The eyes of this unfamiliar old man were so clear and transparent that they glowed like two blue mirrors. In them, the girl saw her own tearful reflection and, having remembered her misfortune, uttered:

“I…I lost my doll here.”

“A doll? And what is its name?”

“I don’t know! I haven’t had a chance to give it a name. It was still brand new. It was given to me only yesterday and it was so beautiful and so, so new,” she chattered guiltily and started sobbing yet again.

“And where did you leave it, dearest creature?”

“I don’t remember. Somewhere here, in the yard,” she replied, irritated, spreading her arms.

“How did this happen?” asked the old man in a gentle voice.

“I just got scared of the rain and ran home,” said the girl defensively.

“Is the rain really that scary?”

“It’s not scary, but I…I was worried that my mom would scold me for getting my clothes wet,” she continued, while sniffling, “and I ran home, and now my doll is lost, and I don’t even know what happened to it… Maybe someone took it, maybe it will live in someone else’s house and I will never ever see it again!”

At this point, the girl’s imagination painted a horrible picture in which her obnoxious neighbor with braids played with her doll, fed it and put it down to sleep. The girl could not bear that and started crying again bitterly. She understood how hopelessly and foolishly she had lost her brand new doll, which she didn’t even get a chance to name.

“Allow me to tell you, dearest creature, that I understand very well how difficult this is for you – it is always painful and sad to lose something precious. And today, I want to help you, my dear,” spoke the old man again, and started rummaging through the folds of his raincoat.

Wiping her tears, the girl thought that no speeches, no advice and no gifts would ever replace her doll, yet she observed with interest how this strange and kind old man was searching for something in his endless dark purple raincoat.

“When your heart is full of love, and when you take care of someone, nothing in the world can scare you. Where there is love and care, there is no place for fear. For love is stronger than fear. If you love something or someone, then, despite any obstacles, always remember and cherish that,” the old man continued, and all of a sudden, the girl saw the familiar face of her wonderful beloved doll in his hands.

“This is it! My darling, my dearest!” the girl twittered, nestling the doll close to her. She laughed, stroked the doll’s hair, and kissed its freckled cheeks again and again.

And it did not matter that the doll’s pink dress was wet, or that its small ponytails – the same ponytails that its owner had – were disheveled. What a mercy it was to see her again, safe and sound!

The girl was so happy, so overjoyed by this meeting, that she didn’t notice the disappearance of her doll’s rescuer.

The sleepy ginger cat emerged slowly and lazily from the building entrance to take a walk before retiring for the night. He snorted in discontent when the redheaded girl nearly knocked him off his feet, hopping up the stairs.

“I will name you Alisa! And I will always take care of you!” she said proudly and firmly, tucking the doll in next to her. Then she got under the covers herself and whispered, “I will never ever leave you under the rain, even if there is hail or a snow storm. Nothing will ever scare me again!”

With a blissful smile on her face, the girl fell asleep hugging her Alisa. But of course, she could not imagine that at the same time something wondrous was happening, and that the strange person in the dark purple raincoat was rushing to some new place, carefully pressing a golden parcel against his chest.