Powieści i opowiadania

Snow coma

I laid on a fluffy snowy bed. Actually, I crouched a little.

The snow was whispering so nicely into my ear and its flakes were caressing my cheeks so gently that I closed my eyes for a little while. Instead of icy cold I could felt wonderful and warm axhiliration. Then I fell asleep....and I slept and slept and I dreamt...

Long, long time ago, in a land, only the old word whisperers heard of, lived a little girl. Her eyes were like blue stones and her lips were of light pink color. She dressed all too modestly and wore things not needed by anyone anymore. She carried thimbles in the pockets of her shorts and sewed on patches wherever she felt cold. She was like a pearl with icicles in her hair instead of hair-pins. Our little protagonist liked ginger bread and bottle caps. She would always buy double share of each. Bottle caps she would put in her socks and the drawers of her cupboard. She had quite a pile and could make a decent exchange with them , but she decided not to share her treasure with anyone else, yet. She also din't tell anyone about it. She knew that the bottle caps would find their own way to make their name in the world. Each thing had its own time to come out into the world and attract attention.

Life went by and one day an old woman knocked at the girl's door. The suprised girls opened the door and when she was just about to ask the woman what had brought her into the girl's house, the woman, holding the folds of her skirt, rushed quickly into the corridor. She moved in a circle, stumbled on her heel, her skirt swished like a paper butterfly and the woman fell to the ground breathless. This strange event, which was actually pointless, made our little protagonist laugh. The old woman was alive and, after a while, her thin gray hair started to whisper : it started, woo, woo....we are here, woo, woo. And her lungs filled with air and whistled : fiu, fiu....the woman's nostrils opened a little and her eyes were finally wide open.

"I'm sorry, my child", she croaked. "I'm not really familiar with your customs. My name is Eleanor, I'm a great specialist in classical dancing and various methods of taming sounds. Lately, however, my body had rebelled against me. You may have already heard it - it makes sounds and whispers on its own. They make me nauseous and cause muscle pain. However, I heard that I could get some help in this town and the old hermit from The Great Mountain send me to you, my little one. Hihihihihi...

"Why is she laughing?", thought the girl.

" I can help you, sure, maybe we can find a remedy" the girl said after a little thought. "First, however, we shall eat a delicious mini dinner."

"Good, well, that's obvious, noone wants to be given help without any preparation."

And so, they started to cook together. And because the dinner was supposed to be "mini", so everything they prepared was in half servings. So they prepared half a sausage, half a slice of cheese, one third of herring - with ear. In a way it was a big dinner, as despite all those "halves" they had prepared about a dozen dishes. Half an orange, asparagus cut vertically - of course in half. Half a strawberry, and for dessert half a glass of cynammon-horseradish liquor. Everything was arranged elegantly on the table. Finally thay made half a cup of cherry tea with the addition of a tiny spoon of honey. When they had eaten everything, they decided to lay for about an hour on the grass in the garden to properly digest each half of food the had eaten. The wind rustled in the leaves and the sound of the stream rocked them to sleep.

"Yes", said the old woman, "that was a great mini dinner, hihihihii, I wonder if my worn body will deal with it?"

"Why shouldn't it?", asked the girl.

"You will hear for yourself in a little bit."

And indeed....suddenly, one ear started to dispute with the other ear, the hair sang songs, and the woman's intestines started to make sounds like cannon fires....it was a terrible dysharmony of sounds - almost like an orhestra preparing to a concert...or worse.

The atmosphere became chaotic and airless. Grass became yellow from grief as it couldn't stand all the noises. Birds flew away to their hollows and leaves turned their color into funny purple. Trees decided to go West, the road covered in grass and moss and stones rolled on it by themselves. All this because of the deafening vibrations produced by the old woman's body.

Then I woke up and I do not know how this funny story had ended. I opened my eyes and saw that I was covered by a snowdrift of considerable size. Everything was in perfect order. Even the sounds were in haromny: car horns, dogs' howling and the rattling sounds of snow spades. "How beautiful is the world whe it's snowing", I thought and moved on to find a way to another dream.

Suzi Volter
PodróżeKulturaMuzykaHistoriaFelietonyPaństwo, polityka, społeczeństwoPowieści i opowiadaniaKącik poezjiRecenzjeWielkie żarcieKomiks
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