Blizzard. The snow spun and filled the air with white curtains, opaque, white, and cold.

Little Maya looked out the window, when a knock on the door startled her. The girl ran quickly to the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, your mother, Leonora. Open the door, please.”

“I can’t,” said little Maya. “My grandmother told me not to open the door to anyone.”

“Yes, that’s right, what your grandmother ordered you, but I’m your mother,” Leonora continued, worried that she couldn’t see and hug her daughter.

Leonora stayed little longer, with her ear close to the door and heard Maya’s light footsteps drift away.

Maya went to the stove, opened its lid, looked at the smoldering fire, and quickly tossed in a log. Then she took the metal rod and stirred as her grandmother had taught her.

She was back to the window and saw a female figure wrapped in a huge scarf and a thick coat, struggling with the snow and wind, trying to move and stay warm. It wasn’t her grandmother. The woman was tall, slender, probably the one who had knocked on the door a while ago and told her that she was her mother.

Maya ran to the stove again, put the tea kettle on, and waited for the water to boil. Then she dropped in the linden leaves, and, as her grandmother had taught her, she waited a few minutes for the tea to brew.

She went back to the window and saw the slender woman closer to the window, shielding her face, and only her huge, black eyes were visible.

The woman knocked on the door again. Maya asked: “What is your name? Where do you come from?”

“I’m your mother, Leonora. I came from far away. Please open the door. When do you expect your grandmother to be back?”

“Grandma went to the farm to help for the delivery of a baby goat and to bring some fresh milk. She went with Sivcho, who pulled the cart.”

“Please, Maya, don’t keep me outside on the cold. We’ll wait for your grandmother together.”

The child walked to the door, pulled the latch, and saw the frozen face of a woman of striking beauty in front of her. She ran back to the stove and waited for the woman to come in.

The slender woman removed the thick scarf from her head. Her brown hair was carefully tucked away with a clip of rusty-gold color, and she wore beautiful earrings. Her skin seemed to be tanned by the sun.

Maya’s heart was pounding, waiting for her guest to speak first.

Leonora approached Maya and stroked her head. Then she sat on the stool by the stove and began to warm her hands. She took out a box of sugar-coated fruits from her bag.

“Do you want linden tea?” Maya offered.

“Yes, I love linden tea very much. Your grandmother, who is my mother, taught me to brew it here on this stove,” she said and handed the box of candied fruits to Maya.

Maya served tea in her favorite cup and looked at the woman in the eyes. She had seen those eyes, remembered them. These were the eyes from her dreams. Then, as if she heard a familiar song, she was distracted for a moment, but she looked back at Leonora. Chaotic thoughts swirled in her little head, about the connection between this woman, the song, and those eyes.

The door opened. Grandma Kalina, all covered in snow, stood in the threshold…

“Maya, please get the milk can, right here by the door.” She looked warmly at Maya when she saw Leonora. Grandmother Kalina ran with tiny steps and hugged her daughter tightly. Tears streamed down the old woman’s face, and Leonora kissed her mother and started to cry.

“Mom, Mom, how much I love you…”

Maya followed this moving scene, with the can in her hands. She didn’t know what to say.

Grandma Kalina moved away from her daughter, approached Maya, and said to her, “This is your beautiful mother. She has preserved her beauty of which you have inherited a great deal, my grandchild.”

Leonora got closer to Maya, knelt at the level of her eyes, and hugged her.

“How many times I have dreamed and dreamed of this moment—to come back and hug my dear girl.”

Maya did not move, instinctively feeling something familiar, something she had always felt subconsciously, but still had no idea what exactly.

She ran away with a timid smile and threw a log into the stove again. The log-burning stove was her refuge. The old woman watched her granddaughter’s movements and felt a heavy strain by the girl’s behavior. She went to her and said, “Now it is the time to tell you the truth about your parents, here, in the presence of your mother. Now I am the happiest mother and grandmother. My favorite girls are next to me, and I will never lose you!”

“Tell me, Grandma, tell me.” Maya sat on the small sofa next to her loving granny.

“We lived a good life filled with joy, laughter, health, and with the people we love,” started the old woman. “We worked from morning till evening on the fields, feeding the animals, but we were also able to have joy, to sing, to meet friends. A young and very handsome man appeared in the village. He bought the best house at the end of the village, renovated it, turned it into a castle. He often organized gatherings with dances and lots of food. The hardest working guys of the village worked for him. His lands were fertile, his wealth increased, and his kindness was legendary.” Grandma Kalina stopped and looked at her daughter’s sad face. She grabbed her arm and continued. “At one of the parties, for the first time we also took my beautiful daughter, Leonora. Throughout the night, the master of the castle danced only with her. His gaze did not shift from our Leonora’s beautiful face. At the end of the evening, he saw us at the door with presents.

“We got home and my husband said, ‘Kalina, we’re going to marry our girl to this lovely boy. Did you see him dancing with her all night and sent us home with presents?’

“Our daughter listened to us, and her eyes sparkled. She had fallen in love with the handsome, young man. We organized a wedding. The whole village was invited, and our daughter became a real princess. A year later, they got a baby, a girl of unsurpassed beauty. And just when happiness was full, the biggest misfortune happened. Robbers attacked the house, not only robbing it, but also killing the handsome landlord and abducting my daughter. The only thing my Leonora was able to do was to hide the baby, wrapped in a blanket in a wood stove that had not been used for years and had holes. This is how some air could pass through in the stove… When we heard about the misfortune, your grandfather and I ran into their castle, searched all the rooms, shouted, and wept, until we finally heard a baby cry coming from the empty stove. Your grandfather opened the lid, and your little face, Maya, calmed down. We went back to our old house with you. We looked after you, looked for news about your mother, but there was no sign.”

Maya looked at her grandmother and pressed hard against her shoulder. Leonora’s eyes were even bigger, like dark mirrors in which Maya gazed with that peculiar, subconscious feeling that these were the eyes she dreamed of very often.

Then Leonora said: “Mom, let me tell you what happened when they tried to kidnap me.”

She turned to Maya. “Every night I raised you up with my hands and looked into your eyes, which are the same as your father’s, and I sang to you a baby song, and you smiled as if you understood everything.

“In the evening, when the robbers attacked and killed your father, I hid in one of the rooms, wrapped you in a blanket and hid you in the stove. Just as I was escaping out the window to the garden where we had a concealed rifle, one of these robbers reached me. He grabbed my hair, and when he pulled me toward himself, I was able to hit him on the head and escape. I ran a long way through the woods and reached a well. I hid in it and heard them pass the well. When I came out, I didn’t know who I was and I didn’t remember anything. I wandered through the woods, climbed trees. I looked wild, rugged, and was very hungry. I reached the doorstep of a house and left without strength. I fell asleep at the gate.”

Grandmother Kalina listened to the story, learning for the first time of her daughter’s torments, and Maya squeezed her grandmother’s hand even harder.

Leonora stopped, sipped her linden tea, and continued. “I woke up in the morning in a soft, comfortable bed. I tried to get up but had no strength. Then an old woman approached me and handed me a glass of an infusion of herbs. She said, ‘Drink, girl, you seem exhausted. Now, I’ll get you a snack.’

“At first, I didn’t talk. I looked at this good woman’s face, but I didn’t know who I was, what to say, and what to do. I had become a kid. Every day I began to recover, and my old woman friend read stories and she cooked. It was clean, warm, and cozy.

“My new friend told me that she had lived alone for years and that she had everything she needed and that she used to be a nun. Her name was Trayana. She violated one of the oaths and was forced to leave the monastic home. Thus, she isolated herself from everyone and everything. She cared for me and didn’t feel it as a burden. On the contrary, she prayed every night to help me improve, and even began to hum. She sang beautifully. One evening she sang a song I thought was familiar. I asked her to sing it again. We both sang, and tears rolled down my face. I felt a strange pain in my chest, but I still didn’t understand why. The nun hugged me and said that I would gradually recover and remember who I was and where my loved ones were. I didn’t know I lived that way for five years. Gradually, I regained my memory, and a cry of a child erupted in my head. At first, I didn’t know why.

“One morning I heard someone bang on the door, and I was scared. Such noise was made the night we were attacked with my husband. I jumped and hid behind the door, terrified. Granny Trayana, the nun, opened the door, and a middle-aged man appeared in front of her. Granny Trayana jumped for joy and hugged him. It was her brother she hadn’t seen for years. We sat at the table. The man looked at me, asked me who I was, but I still didn’t know. Then he placed a jewelry box on the table and said: ‘I was in the big city, beyond this mountain, and the trade is lively. I managed to buy this jewelry, my dear sister.’

“Grandma Trayana looked at the jewelry and said, ‘Yes, how exquisite and masterfully crafted.’ The old woman handed me a hair clip and a pair of earrings and said: ‘Here. They are for you. You are young and beautiful.’

“When I took them in my hands, I shook. This was my jewelry. I turned to Granny Trayana’s brother. ‘These are my jewels,’ I said, trying to remember how I knew that.

“‘I bought them from a market trader,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t suspect they could have been stolen.’

“It was evening, and I went to bed. My eyes stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. The next morning, I jumped up, picked up my hair clip, put it in my hair, put on the beautiful earrings, and looked myself in the mirror. Then I heard my husband’s voice: ‘How beautiful you are. You are all the beauty in the world…’ Gradually the voice stopped. I then knew who I was. I hugged Trayana and told her my story. Her brother listened, while she wiped her tears. Then he promised to bring me back to my village, but it took him time to find a carriage. And here I am with you.”

Little Maya looked at her mother’s face, the beautiful hair clip woven into her shiny hair, and the earrings that looked like drops.

“I also know who I am,” Maya said, looking at her mother, hugging her grandmother.

Blizzard. The snow spun and filled the air with white curtains, opaque, white, and cold.

Little Maya looked out the window, when a knock on the door startled her. The girl ran quickly to the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, your mother, Leonora. Open the door, please.”

“I can’t,” said little Maya. “My grandmother told me not to open the door to anyone.”

“Yes, that’s right, what your grandmother ordered you, but I’m your mother,” Leonora continued, worried that she couldn’t see and hug her daughter.

Leonora stayed little longer, with her ear close to the door and heard Maya’s light footsteps drift away.

Maya went to the stove, opened its lid, looked at the smoldering fire, and quickly tossed in a log. Then she took the metal rod and stirred as her grandmother had taught her.

She was back to the window and saw a female figure wrapped in a huge scarf and a thick coat, struggling with the snow and wind, trying to move and stay warm. It wasn’t her grandmother. The woman was tall, slender, probably the one who had knocked on the door a while ago and told her that she was her mother.

Maya ran to the stove again, put the tea kettle on, and waited for the water to boil. Then she dropped in the linden leaves, and, as her grandmother had taught her, she waited a few minutes for the tea to brew.

She went back to the window and saw the slender woman closer to the window, shielding her face, and only her huge, black eyes were visible.

The woman knocked on the door again. Maya asked: “What is your name? Where do you come from?”

“I’m your mother, Leonora. I came from far away. Please open the door. When do you expect your grandmother to be back?”

“Grandma went to the farm to help for the delivery of a baby goat and to bring some fresh milk. She went with Sivcho, who pulled the cart.”

“Please, Maya, don’t keep me outside on the cold. We’ll wait for your grandmother together.”

The child walked to the door, pulled the latch, and saw the frozen face of a woman of striking beauty in front of her. She ran back to the stove and waited for the woman to come in.

The slender woman removed the thick scarf from her head. Her brown hair was carefully tucked away with a clip of rusty-gold color, and she wore beautiful earrings. Her skin seemed to be tanned by the sun.

Maya’s heart was pounding, waiting for her guest to speak first.

Leonora approached Maya and stroked her head. Then she sat on the stool by the stove and began to warm her hands. She took out a box of sugar-coated fruits from her bag.

“Do you want linden tea?” Maya offered.

“Yes, I love linden tea very much. Your grandmother, who is my mother, taught me to brew it here on this stove,” she said and handed the box of candied fruits to Maya.

Maya served tea in her favorite cup and looked at the woman in the eyes. She had seen those eyes, remembered them. These were the eyes from her dreams. Then, as if she heard a familiar song, she was distracted for a moment, but she looked back at Leonora. Chaotic thoughts swirled in her little head, about the connection between this woman, the song, and those eyes.

The door opened. Grandma Kalina, all covered in snow, stood in the threshold…

“Maya, please get the milk can, right here by the door.” She looked warmly at Maya when she saw Leonora. Grandmother Kalina ran with tiny steps and hugged her daughter tightly. Tears streamed down the old woman’s face, and Leonora kissed her mother and started to cry.

“Mom, Mom, how much I love you…”

Maya followed this moving scene, with the can in her hands. She didn’t know what to say.

Grandma Kalina moved away from her daughter, approached Maya, and said to her, “This is your beautiful mother. She has preserved her beauty of which you have inherited a great deal, my grandchild.”

Leonora got closer to Maya, knelt at the level of her eyes, and hugged her.

“How many times I have dreamed and dreamed of this moment—to come back and hug my dear girl.”

Maya did not move, instinctively feeling something familiar, something she had always felt subconsciously, but still had no idea what exactly.

She ran away with a timid smile and threw a log into the stove again. The log-burning stove was her refuge. The old woman watched her granddaughter’s movements and felt a heavy strain by the girl’s behavior. She went to her and said, “Now it is the time to tell you the truth about your parents, here, in the presence of your mother. Now I am the happiest mother and grandmother. My favorite girls are next to me, and I will never lose you!”

“Tell me, Grandma, tell me.” Maya sat on the small sofa next to her loving granny.

“We lived a good life filled with joy, laughter, health, and with the people we love,” started the old woman. “We worked from morning till evening on the fields, feeding the animals, but we were also able to have joy, to sing, to meet friends. A young and very handsome man appeared in the village. He bought the best house at the end of the village, renovated it, turned it into a castle. He often organized gatherings with dances and lots of food. The hardest working guys of the village worked for him. His lands were fertile, his wealth increased, and his kindness was legendary.” Grandma Kalina stopped and looked at her daughter’s sad face. She grabbed her arm and continued. “At one of the parties, for the first time we also took my beautiful daughter, Leonora. Throughout the night, the master of the castle danced only with her. His gaze did not shift from our Leonora’s beautiful face. At the end of the evening, he saw us at the door with presents.

“We got home and my husband said, ‘Kalina, we’re going to marry our girl to this lovely boy. Did you see him dancing with her all night and sent us home with presents?’

“Our daughter listened to us, and her eyes sparkled. She had fallen in love with the handsome, young man. We organized a wedding. The whole village was invited, and our daughter became a real princess. A year later, they got a baby, a girl of unsurpassed beauty. And just when happiness was full, the biggest misfortune happened. Robbers attacked the house, not only robbing it, but also killing the handsome landlord and abducting my daughter. The only thing my Leonora was able to do was to hide the baby, wrapped in a blanket in a wood stove that had not been used for years and had holes. This is how some air could pass through in the stove… When we heard about the misfortune, your grandfather and I ran into their castle, searched all the rooms, shouted, and wept, until we finally heard a baby cry coming from the empty stove. Your grandfather opened the lid, and your little face, Maya, calmed down. We went back to our old house with you. We looked after you, looked for news about your mother, but there was no sign.”

Maya looked at her grandmother and pressed hard against her shoulder. Leonora’s eyes were even bigger, like dark mirrors in which Maya gazed with that peculiar, subconscious feeling that these were the eyes she dreamed of very often.

Then Leonora said: “Mom, let me tell you what happened when they tried to kidnap me.”

She turned to Maya. “Every night I raised you up with my hands and looked into your eyes, which are the same as your father’s, and I sang to you a baby song, and you smiled as if you understood everything.

“In the evening, when the robbers attacked and killed your father, I hid in one of the rooms, wrapped you in a blanket and hid you in the stove. Just as I was escaping out the window to the garden where we had a concealed rifle, one of these robbers reached me. He grabbed my hair, and when he pulled me toward himself, I was able to hit him on the head and escape. I ran a long way through the woods and reached a well. I hid in it and heard them pass the well. When I came out, I didn’t know who I was and I didn’t remember anything. I wandered through the woods, climbed trees. I looked wild, rugged, and was very hungry. I reached the doorstep of a house and left without strength. I fell asleep at the gate.”

Grandmother Kalina listened to the story, learning for the first time of her daughter’s torments, and Maya squeezed her grandmother’s hand even harder.

Leonora stopped, sipped her linden tea, and continued. “I woke up in the morning in a soft, comfortable bed. I tried to get up but had no strength. Then an old woman approached me and handed me a glass of an infusion of herbs. She said, ‘Drink, girl, you seem exhausted. Now, I’ll get you a snack.’

“At first, I didn’t talk. I looked at this good woman’s face, but I didn’t know who I was, what to say, and what to do. I had become a kid. Every day I began to recover, and my old woman friend read stories and she cooked. It was clean, warm, and cozy.

“My new friend told me that she had lived alone for years and that she had everything she needed and that she used to be a nun. Her name was Trayana. She violated one of the oaths and was forced to leave the monastic home. Thus, she isolated herself from everyone and everything. She cared for me and didn’t feel it as a burden. On the contrary, she prayed every night to help me improve, and even began to hum. She sang beautifully. One evening she sang a song I thought was familiar. I asked her to sing it again. We both sang, and tears rolled down my face. I felt a strange pain in my chest, but I still didn’t understand why. The nun hugged me and said that I would gradually recover and remember who I was and where my loved ones were. I didn’t know I lived that way for five years. Gradually, I regained my memory, and a cry of a child erupted in my head. At first, I didn’t know why.

“One morning I heard someone bang on the door, and I was scared. Such noise was made the night we were attacked with my husband. I jumped and hid behind the door, terrified. Granny Trayana, the nun, opened the door, and a middle-aged man appeared in front of her. Granny Trayana jumped for joy and hugged him. It was her brother she hadn’t seen for years. We sat at the table. The man looked at me, asked me who I was, but I still didn’t know. Then he placed a jewelry box on the table and said: ‘I was in the big city, beyond this mountain, and the trade is lively. I managed to buy this jewelry, my dear sister.’

“Grandma Trayana looked at the jewelry and said, ‘Yes, how exquisite and masterfully crafted.’ The old woman handed me a hair clip and a pair of earrings and said: ‘Here. They are for you. You are young and beautiful.’

“When I took them in my hands, I shook. This was my jewelry. I turned to Granny Trayana’s brother. ‘These are my jewels,’ I said, trying to remember how I knew that.

“‘I bought them from a market trader,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t suspect they could have been stolen.’

“It was evening, and I went to bed. My eyes stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. The next morning, I jumped up, picked up my hair clip, put it in my hair, put on the beautiful earrings, and looked myself in the mirror. Then I heard my husband’s voice: ‘How beautiful you are. You are all the beauty in the world…’ Gradually the voice stopped. I then knew who I was. I hugged Trayana and told her my story. Her brother listened, while she wiped her tears. Then he promised to bring me back to my village, but it took him time to find a carriage. And here I am with you.”

Little Maya looked at her mother’s face, the beautiful hair clip woven into her shiny hair, and the earrings that looked like drops.

“I also know who I am,” Maya said, looking at her mother, hugging her grandmother.

Blizzard. The snow spun and filled the air with white curtains, opaque, white, and cold.

Little Maya looked out the window, when a knock on the door startled her. The girl ran quickly to the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, your mother, Leonora. Open the door, please.”

“I can’t,” said little Maya. “My grandmother told me not to open the door to anyone.”

“Yes, that’s right, what your grandmother ordered you, but I’m your mother,” Leonora continued, worried that she couldn’t see and hug her daughter.

Leonora stayed little longer, with her ear close to the door and heard Maya’s light footsteps drift away.

Maya went to the stove, opened its lid, looked at the smoldering fire, and quickly tossed in a log. Then she took the metal rod and stirred as her grandmother had taught her.

She was back to the window and saw a female figure wrapped in a huge scarf and a thick coat, struggling with the snow and wind, trying to move and stay warm. It wasn’t her grandmother. The woman was tall, slender, probably the one who had knocked on the door a while ago and told her that she was her mother.

Maya ran to the stove again, put the tea kettle on, and waited for the water to boil. Then she dropped in the linden leaves, and, as her grandmother had taught her, she waited a few minutes for the tea to brew.

She went back to the window and saw the slender woman closer to the window, shielding her face, and only her huge, black eyes were visible.

The woman knocked on the door again. Maya asked: “What is your name? Where do you come from?”

“I’m your mother, Leonora. I came from far away. Please open the door. When do you expect your grandmother to be back?”

“Grandma went to the farm to help for the delivery of a baby goat and to bring some fresh milk. She went with Sivcho, who pulled the cart.”

“Please, Maya, don’t keep me outside on the cold. We’ll wait for your grandmother together.”

The child walked to the door, pulled the latch, and saw the frozen face of a woman of striking beauty in front of her. She ran back to the stove and waited for the woman to come in.

The slender woman removed the thick scarf from her head. Her brown hair was carefully tucked away with a clip of rusty-gold color, and she wore beautiful earrings. Her skin seemed to be tanned by the sun.

Maya’s heart was pounding, waiting for her guest to speak first.

Leonora approached Maya and stroked her head. Then she sat on the stool by the stove and began to warm her hands. She took out a box of sugar-coated fruits from her bag.

“Do you want linden tea?” Maya offered.

“Yes, I love linden tea very much. Your grandmother, who is my mother, taught me to brew it here on this stove,” she said and handed the box of candied fruits to Maya.

Maya served tea in her favorite cup and looked at the woman in the eyes. She had seen those eyes, remembered them. These were the eyes from her dreams. Then, as if she heard a familiar song, she was distracted for a moment, but she looked back at Leonora. Chaotic thoughts swirled in her little head, about the connection between this woman, the song, and those eyes.

The door opened. Grandma Kalina, all covered in snow, stood in the threshold…

“Maya, please get the milk can, right here by the door.” She looked warmly at Maya when she saw Leonora. Grandmother Kalina ran with tiny steps and hugged her daughter tightly. Tears streamed down the old woman’s face, and Leonora kissed her mother and started to cry.

“Mom, Mom, how much I love you…”

Maya followed this moving scene, with the can in her hands. She didn’t know what to say.

Grandma Kalina moved away from her daughter, approached Maya, and said to her, “This is your beautiful mother. She has preserved her beauty of which you have inherited a great deal, my grandchild.”

Leonora got closer to Maya, knelt at the level of her eyes, and hugged her.

“How many times I have dreamed and dreamed of this moment—to come back and hug my dear girl.”

Maya did not move, instinctively feeling something familiar, something she had always felt subconsciously, but still had no idea what exactly.

She ran away with a timid smile and threw a log into the stove again. The log-burning stove was her refuge. The old woman watched her granddaughter’s movements and felt a heavy strain by the girl’s behavior. She went to her and said, “Now it is the time to tell you the truth about your parents, here, in the presence of your mother. Now I am the happiest mother and grandmother. My favorite girls are next to me, and I will never lose you!”

“Tell me, Grandma, tell me.” Maya sat on the small sofa next to her loving granny.

“We lived a good life filled with joy, laughter, health, and with the people we love,” started the old woman. “We worked from morning till evening on the fields, feeding the animals, but we were also able to have joy, to sing, to meet friends. A young and very handsome man appeared in the village. He bought the best house at the end of the village, renovated it, turned it into a castle. He often organized gatherings with dances and lots of food. The hardest working guys of the village worked for him. His lands were fertile, his wealth increased, and his kindness was legendary.” Grandma Kalina stopped and looked at her daughter’s sad face. She grabbed her arm and continued. “At one of the parties, for the first time we also took my beautiful daughter, Leonora. Throughout the night, the master of the castle danced only with her. His gaze did not shift from our Leonora’s beautiful face. At the end of the evening, he saw us at the door with presents.

“We got home and my husband said, ‘Kalina, we’re going to marry our girl to this lovely boy. Did you see him dancing with her all night and sent us home with presents?’

“Our daughter listened to us, and her eyes sparkled. She had fallen in love with the handsome, young man. We organized a wedding. The whole village was invited, and our daughter became a real princess. A year later, they got a baby, a girl of unsurpassed beauty. And just when happiness was full, the biggest misfortune happened. Robbers attacked the house, not only robbing it, but also killing the handsome landlord and abducting my daughter. The only thing my Leonora was able to do was to hide the baby, wrapped in a blanket in a wood stove that had not been used for years and had holes. This is how some air could pass through in the stove… When we heard about the misfortune, your grandfather and I ran into their castle, searched all the rooms, shouted, and wept, until we finally heard a baby cry coming from the empty stove. Your grandfather opened the lid, and your little face, Maya, calmed down. We went back to our old house with you. We looked after you, looked for news about your mother, but there was no sign.”

Maya looked at her grandmother and pressed hard against her shoulder. Leonora’s eyes were even bigger, like dark mirrors in which Maya gazed with that peculiar, subconscious feeling that these were the eyes she dreamed of very often.

Then Leonora said: “Mom, let me tell you what happened when they tried to kidnap me.”

She turned to Maya. “Every night I raised you up with my hands and looked into your eyes, which are the same as your father’s, and I sang to you a baby song, and you smiled as if you understood everything.

“In the evening, when the robbers attacked and killed your father, I hid in one of the rooms, wrapped you in a blanket and hid you in the stove. Just as I was escaping out the window to the garden where we had a concealed rifle, one of these robbers reached me. He grabbed my hair, and when he pulled me toward himself, I was able to hit him on the head and escape. I ran a long way through the woods and reached a well. I hid in it and heard them pass the well. When I came out, I didn’t know who I was and I didn’t remember anything. I wandered through the woods, climbed trees. I looked wild, rugged, and was very hungry. I reached the doorstep of a house and left without strength. I fell asleep at the gate.”

Grandmother Kalina listened to the story, learning for the first time of her daughter’s torments, and Maya squeezed her grandmother’s hand even harder.

Leonora stopped, sipped her linden tea, and continued. “I woke up in the morning in a soft, comfortable bed. I tried to get up but had no strength. Then an old woman approached me and handed me a glass of an infusion of herbs. She said, ‘Drink, girl, you seem exhausted. Now, I’ll get you a snack.’

“At first, I didn’t talk. I looked at this good woman’s face, but I didn’t know who I was, what to say, and what to do. I had become a kid. Every day I began to recover, and my old woman friend read stories and she cooked. It was clean, warm, and cozy.

“My new friend told me that she had lived alone for years and that she had everything she needed and that she used to be a nun. Her name was Trayana. She violated one of the oaths and was forced to leave the monastic home. Thus, she isolated herself from everyone and everything. She cared for me and didn’t feel it as a burden. On the contrary, she prayed every night to help me improve, and even began to hum. She sang beautifully. One evening she sang a song I thought was familiar. I asked her to sing it again. We both sang, and tears rolled down my face. I felt a strange pain in my chest, but I still didn’t understand why. The nun hugged me and said that I would gradually recover and remember who I was and where my loved ones were. I didn’t know I lived that way for five years. Gradually, I regained my memory, and a cry of a child erupted in my head. At first, I didn’t know why.

“One morning I heard someone bang on the door, and I was scared. Such noise was made the night we were attacked with my husband. I jumped and hid behind the door, terrified. Granny Trayana, the nun, opened the door, and a middle-aged man appeared in front of her. Granny Trayana jumped for joy and hugged him. It was her brother she hadn’t seen for years. We sat at the table. The man looked at me, asked me who I was, but I still didn’t know. Then he placed a jewelry box on the table and said: ‘I was in the big city, beyond this mountain, and the trade is lively. I managed to buy this jewelry, my dear sister.’

“Grandma Trayana looked at the jewelry and said, ‘Yes, how exquisite and masterfully crafted.’ The old woman handed me a hair clip and a pair of earrings and said: ‘Here. They are for you. You are young and beautiful.’

“When I took them in my hands, I shook. This was my jewelry. I turned to Granny Trayana’s brother. ‘These are my jewels,’ I said, trying to remember how I knew that.

“‘I bought them from a market trader,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t suspect they could have been stolen.’

“It was evening, and I went to bed. My eyes stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. The next morning, I jumped up, picked up my hair clip, put it in my hair, put on the beautiful earrings, and looked myself in the mirror. Then I heard my husband’s voice: ‘How beautiful you are. You are all the beauty in the world…’ Gradually the voice stopped. I then knew who I was. I hugged Trayana and told her my story. Her brother listened, while she wiped her tears. Then he promised to bring me back to my village, but it took him time to find a carriage. And here I am with you.”

Little Maya looked at her mother’s face, the beautiful hair clip woven into her shiny hair, and the earrings that looked like drops.

“I also know who I am,” Maya said, looking at her mother, hugging her grandmother.

Blizzard. The snow spun and filled the air with white curtains, opaque, white, and cold.

Little Maya looked out the window, when a knock on the door startled her. The girl ran quickly to the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, your mother, Leonora. Open the door, please.”

“I can’t,” said little Maya. “My grandmother told me not to open the door to anyone.”

“Yes, that’s right, what your grandmother ordered you, but I’m your mother,” Leonora continued, worried that she couldn’t see and hug her daughter.

Leonora stayed little longer, with her ear close to the door and heard Maya’s light footsteps drift away.

Maya went to the stove, opened its lid, looked at the smoldering fire, and quickly tossed in a log. Then she took the metal rod and stirred as her grandmother had taught her.

She was back to the window and saw a female figure wrapped in a huge scarf and a thick coat, struggling with the snow and wind, trying to move and stay warm. It wasn’t her grandmother. The woman was tall, slender, probably the one who had knocked on the door a while ago and told her that she was her mother.

Maya ran to the stove again, put the tea kettle on, and waited for the water to boil. Then she dropped in the linden leaves, and, as her grandmother had taught her, she waited a few minutes for the tea to brew.

She went back to the window and saw the slender woman closer to the window, shielding her face, and only her huge, black eyes were visible.

The woman knocked on the door again. Maya asked: “What is your name? Where do you come from?”

“I’m your mother, Leonora. I came from far away. Please open the door. When do you expect your grandmother to be back?”

“Grandma went to the farm to help for the delivery of a baby goat and to bring some fresh milk. She went with Sivcho, who pulled the cart.”

“Please, Maya, don’t keep me outside on the cold. We’ll wait for your grandmother together.”

The child walked to the door, pulled the latch, and saw the frozen face of a woman of striking beauty in front of her. She ran back to the stove and waited for the woman to come in.

The slender woman removed the thick scarf from her head. Her brown hair was carefully tucked away with a clip of rusty-gold color, and she wore beautiful earrings. Her skin seemed to be tanned by the sun.

Maya’s heart was pounding, waiting for her guest to speak first.

Leonora approached Maya and stroked her head. Then she sat on the stool by the stove and began to warm her hands. She took out a box of sugar-coated fruits from her bag.

“Do you want linden tea?” Maya offered.

“Yes, I love linden tea very much. Your grandmother, who is my mother, taught me to brew it here on this stove,” she said and handed the box of candied fruits to Maya.

Maya served tea in her favorite cup and looked at the woman in the eyes. She had seen those eyes, remembered them. These were the eyes from her dreams. Then, as if she heard a familiar song, she was distracted for a moment, but she looked back at Leonora. Chaotic thoughts swirled in her little head, about the connection between this woman, the song, and those eyes.

The door opened. Grandma Kalina, all covered in snow, stood in the threshold…

“Maya, please get the milk can, right here by the door.” She looked warmly at Maya when she saw Leonora. Grandmother Kalina ran with tiny steps and hugged her daughter tightly. Tears streamed down the old woman’s face, and Leonora kissed her mother and started to cry.

“Mom, Mom, how much I love you…”

Maya followed this moving scene, with the can in her hands. She didn’t know what to say.

Grandma Kalina moved away from her daughter, approached Maya, and said to her, “This is your beautiful mother. She has preserved her beauty of which you have inherited a great deal, my grandchild.”

Leonora got closer to Maya, knelt at the level of her eyes, and hugged her.

“How many times I have dreamed and dreamed of this moment—to come back and hug my dear girl.”

Maya did not move, instinctively feeling something familiar, something she had always felt subconsciously, but still had no idea what exactly.

She ran away with a timid smile and threw a log into the stove again. The log-burning stove was her refuge. The old woman watched her granddaughter’s movements and felt a heavy strain by the girl’s behavior. She went to her and said, “Now it is the time to tell you the truth about your parents, here, in the presence of your mother. Now I am the happiest mother and grandmother. My favorite girls are next to me, and I will never lose you!”

“Tell me, Grandma, tell me.” Maya sat on the small sofa next to her loving granny.

“We lived a good life filled with joy, laughter, health, and with the people we love,” started the old woman. “We worked from morning till evening on the fields, feeding the animals, but we were also able to have joy, to sing, to meet friends. A young and very handsome man appeared in the village. He bought the best house at the end of the village, renovated it, turned it into a castle. He often organized gatherings with dances and lots of food. The hardest working guys of the village worked for him. His lands were fertile, his wealth increased, and his kindness was legendary.” Grandma Kalina stopped and looked at her daughter’s sad face. She grabbed her arm and continued. “At one of the parties, for the first time we also took my beautiful daughter, Leonora. Throughout the night, the master of the castle danced only with her. His gaze did not shift from our Leonora’s beautiful face. At the end of the evening, he saw us at the door with presents.

“We got home and my husband said, ‘Kalina, we’re going to marry our girl to this lovely boy. Did you see him dancing with her all night and sent us home with presents?’

“Our daughter listened to us, and her eyes sparkled. She had fallen in love with the handsome, young man. We organized a wedding. The whole village was invited, and our daughter became a real princess. A year later, they got a baby, a girl of unsurpassed beauty. And just when happiness was full, the biggest misfortune happened. Robbers attacked the house, not only robbing it, but also killing the handsome landlord and abducting my daughter. The only thing my Leonora was able to do was to hide the baby, wrapped in a blanket in a wood stove that had not been used for years and had holes. This is how some air could pass through in the stove… When we heard about the misfortune, your grandfather and I ran into their castle, searched all the rooms, shouted, and wept, until we finally heard a baby cry coming from the empty stove. Your grandfather opened the lid, and your little face, Maya, calmed down. We went back to our old house with you. We looked after you, looked for news about your mother, but there was no sign.”

Maya looked at her grandmother and pressed hard against her shoulder. Leonora’s eyes were even bigger, like dark mirrors in which Maya gazed with that peculiar, subconscious feeling that these were the eyes she dreamed of very often.

Then Leonora said: “Mom, let me tell you what happened when they tried to kidnap me.”

She turned to Maya. “Every night I raised you up with my hands and looked into your eyes, which are the same as your father’s, and I sang to you a baby song, and you smiled as if you understood everything.

“In the evening, when the robbers attacked and killed your father, I hid in one of the rooms, wrapped you in a blanket and hid you in the stove. Just as I was escaping out the window to the garden where we had a concealed rifle, one of these robbers reached me. He grabbed my hair, and when he pulled me toward himself, I was able to hit him on the head and escape. I ran a long way through the woods and reached a well. I hid in it and heard them pass the well. When I came out, I didn’t know who I was and I didn’t remember anything. I wandered through the woods, climbed trees. I looked wild, rugged, and was very hungry. I reached the doorstep of a house and left without strength. I fell asleep at the gate.”

Grandmother Kalina listened to the story, learning for the first time of her daughter’s torments, and Maya squeezed her grandmother’s hand even harder.

Leonora stopped, sipped her linden tea, and continued. “I woke up in the morning in a soft, comfortable bed. I tried to get up but had no strength. Then an old woman approached me and handed me a glass of an infusion of herbs. She said, ‘Drink, girl, you seem exhausted. Now, I’ll get you a snack.’

“At first, I didn’t talk. I looked at this good woman’s face, but I didn’t know who I was, what to say, and what to do. I had become a kid. Every day I began to recover, and my old woman friend read stories and she cooked. It was clean, warm, and cozy.

“My new friend told me that she had lived alone for years and that she had everything she needed and that she used to be a nun. Her name was Trayana. She violated one of the oaths and was forced to leave the monastic home. Thus, she isolated herself from everyone and everything. She cared for me and didn’t feel it as a burden. On the contrary, she prayed every night to help me improve, and even began to hum. She sang beautifully. One evening she sang a song I thought was familiar. I asked her to sing it again. We both sang, and tears rolled down my face. I felt a strange pain in my chest, but I still didn’t understand why. The nun hugged me and said that I would gradually recover and remember who I was and where my loved ones were. I didn’t know I lived that way for five years. Gradually, I regained my memory, and a cry of a child erupted in my head. At first, I didn’t know why.

“One morning I heard someone bang on the door, and I was scared. Such noise was made the night we were attacked with my husband. I jumped and hid behind the door, terrified. Granny Trayana, the nun, opened the door, and a middle-aged man appeared in front of her. Granny Trayana jumped for joy and hugged him. It was her brother she hadn’t seen for years. We sat at the table. The man looked at me, asked me who I was, but I still didn’t know. Then he placed a jewelry box on the table and said: ‘I was in the big city, beyond this mountain, and the trade is lively. I managed to buy this jewelry, my dear sister.’

“Grandma Trayana looked at the jewelry and said, ‘Yes, how exquisite and masterfully crafted.’ The old woman handed me a hair clip and a pair of earrings and said: ‘Here. They are for you. You are young and beautiful.’

“When I took them in my hands, I shook. This was my jewelry. I turned to Granny Trayana’s brother. ‘These are my jewels,’ I said, trying to remember how I knew that.

“‘I bought them from a market trader,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t suspect they could have been stolen.’

“It was evening, and I went to bed. My eyes stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. The next morning, I jumped up, picked up my hair clip, put it in my hair, put on the beautiful earrings, and looked myself in the mirror. Then I heard my husband’s voice: ‘How beautiful you are. You are all the beauty in the world…’ Gradually the voice stopped. I then knew who I was. I hugged Trayana and told her my story. Her brother listened, while she wiped her tears. Then he promised to bring me back to my village, but it took him time to find a carriage. And here I am with you.”

Little Maya looked at her mother’s face, the beautiful hair clip woven into her shiny hair, and the earrings that looked like drops.

“I also know who I am,” Maya said, looking at her mother, hugging her grandmother.

Blizzard. The snow spun and filled the air with white curtains, opaque, white, and cold.

Little Maya looked out the window, when a knock on the door startled her. The girl ran quickly to the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, your mother, Leonora. Open the door, please.”

“I can’t,” said little Maya. “My grandmother told me not to open the door to anyone.”

“Yes, that’s right, what your grandmother ordered you, but I’m your mother,” Leonora continued, worried that she couldn’t see and hug her daughter.

Leonora stayed little longer, with her ear close to the door and heard Maya’s light footsteps drift away.

Maya went to the stove, opened its lid, looked at the smoldering fire, and quickly tossed in a log. Then she took the metal rod and stirred as her grandmother had taught her.

She was back to the window and saw a female figure wrapped in a huge scarf and a thick coat, struggling with the snow and wind, trying to move and stay warm. It wasn’t her grandmother. The woman was tall, slender, probably the one who had knocked on the door a while ago and told her that she was her mother.

Maya ran to the stove again, put the tea kettle on, and waited for the water to boil. Then she dropped in the linden leaves, and, as her grandmother had taught her, she waited a few minutes for the tea to brew.

She went back to the window and saw the slender woman closer to the window, shielding her face, and only her huge, black eyes were visible.

The woman knocked on the door again. Maya asked: “What is your name? Where do you come from?”

“I’m your mother, Leonora. I came from far away. Please open the door. When do you expect your grandmother to be back?”

“Grandma went to the farm to help for the delivery of a baby goat and to bring some fresh milk. She went with Sivcho, who pulled the cart.”

“Please, Maya, don’t keep me outside on the cold. We’ll wait for your grandmother together.”

The child walked to the door, pulled the latch, and saw the frozen face of a woman of striking beauty in front of her. She ran back to the stove and waited for the woman to come in.

The slender woman removed the thick scarf from her head. Her brown hair was carefully tucked away with a clip of rusty-gold color, and she wore beautiful earrings. Her skin seemed to be tanned by the sun.

Maya’s heart was pounding, waiting for her guest to speak first.

Leonora approached Maya and stroked her head. Then she sat on the stool by the stove and began to warm her hands. She took out a box of sugar-coated fruits from her bag.

“Do you want linden tea?” Maya offered.

“Yes, I love linden tea very much. Your grandmother, who is my mother, taught me to brew it here on this stove,” she said and handed the box of candied fruits to Maya.

Maya served tea in her favorite cup and looked at the woman in the eyes. She had seen those eyes, remembered them. These were the eyes from her dreams. Then, as if she heard a familiar song, she was distracted for a moment, but she looked back at Leonora. Chaotic thoughts swirled in her little head, about the connection between this woman, the song, and those eyes.

The door opened. Grandma Kalina, all covered in snow, stood in the threshold…

“Maya, please get the milk can, right here by the door.” She looked warmly at Maya when she saw Leonora. Grandmother Kalina ran with tiny steps and hugged her daughter tightly. Tears streamed down the old woman’s face, and Leonora kissed her mother and started to cry.

“Mom, Mom, how much I love you…”

Maya followed this moving scene, with the can in her hands. She didn’t know what to say.

Grandma Kalina moved away from her daughter, approached Maya, and said to her, “This is your beautiful mother. She has preserved her beauty of which you have inherited a great deal, my grandchild.”

Leonora got closer to Maya, knelt at the level of her eyes, and hugged her.

“How many times I have dreamed and dreamed of this moment—to come back and hug my dear girl.”

Maya did not move, instinctively feeling something familiar, something she had always felt subconsciously, but still had no idea what exactly.

She ran away with a timid smile and threw a log into the stove again. The log-burning stove was her refuge. The old woman watched her granddaughter’s movements and felt a heavy strain by the girl’s behavior. She went to her and said, “Now it is the time to tell you the truth about your parents, here, in the presence of your mother. Now I am the happiest mother and grandmother. My favorite girls are next to me, and I will never lose you!”

“Tell me, Grandma, tell me.” Maya sat on the small sofa next to her loving granny.

“We lived a good life filled with joy, laughter, health, and with the people we love,” started the old woman. “We worked from morning till evening on the fields, feeding the animals, but we were also able to have joy, to sing, to meet friends. A young and very handsome man appeared in the village. He bought the best house at the end of the village, renovated it, turned it into a castle. He often organized gatherings with dances and lots of food. The hardest working guys of the village worked for him. His lands were fertile, his wealth increased, and his kindness was legendary.” Grandma Kalina stopped and looked at her daughter’s sad face. She grabbed her arm and continued. “At one of the parties, for the first time we also took my beautiful daughter, Leonora. Throughout the night, the master of the castle danced only with her. His gaze did not shift from our Leonora’s beautiful face. At the end of the evening, he saw us at the door with presents.

“We got home and my husband said, ‘Kalina, we’re going to marry our girl to this lovely boy. Did you see him dancing with her all night and sent us home with presents?’

“Our daughter listened to us, and her eyes sparkled. She had fallen in love with the handsome, young man. We organized a wedding. The whole village was invited, and our daughter became a real princess. A year later, they got a baby, a girl of unsurpassed beauty. And just when happiness was full, the biggest misfortune happened. Robbers attacked the house, not only robbing it, but also killing the handsome landlord and abducting my daughter. The only thing my Leonora was able to do was to hide the baby, wrapped in a blanket in a wood stove that had not been used for years and had holes. This is how some air could pass through in the stove… When we heard about the misfortune, your grandfather and I ran into their castle, searched all the rooms, shouted, and wept, until we finally heard a baby cry coming from the empty stove. Your grandfather opened the lid, and your little face, Maya, calmed down. We went back to our old house with you. We looked after you, looked for news about your mother, but there was no sign.”

Maya looked at her grandmother and pressed hard against her shoulder. Leonora’s eyes were even bigger, like dark mirrors in which Maya gazed with that peculiar, subconscious feeling that these were the eyes she dreamed of very often.

Then Leonora said: “Mom, let me tell you what happened when they tried to kidnap me.”

She turned to Maya. “Every night I raised you up with my hands and looked into your eyes, which are the same as your father’s, and I sang to you a baby song, and you smiled as if you understood everything.

“In the evening, when the robbers attacked and killed your father, I hid in one of the rooms, wrapped you in a blanket and hid you in the stove. Just as I was escaping out the window to the garden where we had a concealed rifle, one of these robbers reached me. He grabbed my hair, and when he pulled me toward himself, I was able to hit him on the head and escape. I ran a long way through the woods and reached a well. I hid in it and heard them pass the well. When I came out, I didn’t know who I was and I didn’t remember anything. I wandered through the woods, climbed trees. I looked wild, rugged, and was very hungry. I reached the doorstep of a house and left without strength. I fell asleep at the gate.”

Grandmother Kalina listened to the story, learning for the first time of her daughter’s torments, and Maya squeezed her grandmother’s hand even harder.

Leonora stopped, sipped her linden tea, and continued. “I woke up in the morning in a soft, comfortable bed. I tried to get up but had no strength. Then an old woman approached me and handed me a glass of an infusion of herbs. She said, ‘Drink, girl, you seem exhausted. Now, I’ll get you a snack.’

“At first, I didn’t talk. I looked at this good woman’s face, but I didn’t know who I was, what to say, and what to do. I had become a kid. Every day I began to recover, and my old woman friend read stories and she cooked. It was clean, warm, and cozy.

“My new friend told me that she had lived alone for years and that she had everything she needed and that she used to be a nun. Her name was Trayana. She violated one of the oaths and was forced to leave the monastic home. Thus, she isolated herself from everyone and everything. She cared for me and didn’t feel it as a burden. On the contrary, she prayed every night to help me improve, and even began to hum. She sang beautifully. One evening she sang a song I thought was familiar. I asked her to sing it again. We both sang, and tears rolled down my face. I felt a strange pain in my chest, but I still didn’t understand why. The nun hugged me and said that I would gradually recover and remember who I was and where my loved ones were. I didn’t know I lived that way for five years. Gradually, I regained my memory, and a cry of a child erupted in my head. At first, I didn’t know why.

“One morning I heard someone bang on the door, and I was scared. Such noise was made the night we were attacked with my husband. I jumped and hid behind the door, terrified. Granny Trayana, the nun, opened the door, and a middle-aged man appeared in front of her. Granny Trayana jumped for joy and hugged him. It was her brother she hadn’t seen for years. We sat at the table. The man looked at me, asked me who I was, but I still didn’t know. Then he placed a jewelry box on the table and said: ‘I was in the big city, beyond this mountain, and the trade is lively. I managed to buy this jewelry, my dear sister.’

“Grandma Trayana looked at the jewelry and said, ‘Yes, how exquisite and masterfully crafted.’ The old woman handed me a hair clip and a pair of earrings and said: ‘Here. They are for you. You are young and beautiful.’

“When I took them in my hands, I shook. This was my jewelry. I turned to Granny Trayana’s brother. ‘These are my jewels,’ I said, trying to remember how I knew that.

“‘I bought them from a market trader,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t suspect they could have been stolen.’

“It was evening, and I went to bed. My eyes stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. The next morning, I jumped up, picked up my hair clip, put it in my hair, put on the beautiful earrings, and looked myself in the mirror. Then I heard my husband’s voice: ‘How beautiful you are. You are all the beauty in the world…’ Gradually the voice stopped. I then knew who I was. I hugged Trayana and told her my story. Her brother listened, while she wiped her tears. Then he promised to bring me back to my village, but it took him time to find a carriage. And here I am with you.”

Little Maya looked at her mother’s face, the beautiful hair clip woven into her shiny hair, and the earrings that looked like drops.

“I also know who I am,” Maya said, looking at her mother, hugging her grandmother.

Blizzard. The snow spun and filled the air with white curtains, opaque, white, and cold.

Little Maya looked out the window, when a knock on the door startled her. The girl ran quickly to the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, your mother, Leonora. Open the door, please.”

“I can’t,” said little Maya. “My grandmother told me not to open the door to anyone.”

“Yes, that’s right, what your grandmother ordered you, but I’m your mother,” Leonora continued, worried that she couldn’t see and hug her daughter.

Leonora stayed little longer, with her ear close to the door and heard Maya’s light footsteps drift away.

Maya went to the stove, opened its lid, looked at the smoldering fire, and quickly tossed in a log. Then she took the metal rod and stirred as her grandmother had taught her.

She was back to the window and saw a female figure wrapped in a huge scarf and a thick coat, struggling with the snow and wind, trying to move and stay warm. It wasn’t her grandmother. The woman was tall, slender, probably the one who had knocked on the door a while ago and told her that she was her mother.

Maya ran to the stove again, put the tea kettle on, and waited for the water to boil. Then she dropped in the linden leaves, and, as her grandmother had taught her, she waited a few minutes for the tea to brew.

She went back to the window and saw the slender woman closer to the window, shielding her face, and only her huge, black eyes were visible.

The woman knocked on the door again. Maya asked: “What is your name? Where do you come from?”

“I’m your mother, Leonora. I came from far away. Please open the door. When do you expect your grandmother to be back?”

“Grandma went to the farm to help for the delivery of a baby goat and to bring some fresh milk. She went with Sivcho, who pulled the cart.”

“Please, Maya, don’t keep me outside on the cold. We’ll wait for your grandmother together.”

The child walked to the door, pulled the latch, and saw the frozen face of a woman of striking beauty in front of her. She ran back to the stove and waited for the woman to come in.

The slender woman removed the thick scarf from her head. Her brown hair was carefully tucked away with a clip of rusty-gold color, and she wore beautiful earrings. Her skin seemed to be tanned by the sun.

Maya’s heart was pounding, waiting for her guest to speak first.

Leonora approached Maya and stroked her head. Then she sat on the stool by the stove and began to warm her hands. She took out a box of sugar-coated fruits from her bag.

“Do you want linden tea?” Maya offered.

“Yes, I love linden tea very much. Your grandmother, who is my mother, taught me to brew it here on this stove,” she said and handed the box of candied fruits to Maya.

Maya served tea in her favorite cup and looked at the woman in the eyes. She had seen those eyes, remembered them. These were the eyes from her dreams. Then, as if she heard a familiar song, she was distracted for a moment, but she looked back at Leonora. Chaotic thoughts swirled in her little head, about the connection between this woman, the song, and those eyes.

The door opened. Grandma Kalina, all covered in snow, stood in the threshold…

“Maya, please get the milk can, right here by the door.” She looked warmly at Maya when she saw Leonora. Grandmother Kalina ran with tiny steps and hugged her daughter tightly. Tears streamed down the old woman’s face, and Leonora kissed her mother and started to cry.

“Mom, Mom, how much I love you…”

Maya followed this moving scene, with the can in her hands. She didn’t know what to say.

Grandma Kalina moved away from her daughter, approached Maya, and said to her, “This is your beautiful mother. She has preserved her beauty of which you have inherited a great deal, my grandchild.”

Leonora got closer to Maya, knelt at the level of her eyes, and hugged her.

“How many times I have dreamed and dreamed of this moment—to come back and hug my dear girl.”

Maya did not move, instinctively feeling something familiar, something she had always felt subconsciously, but still had no idea what exactly.

She ran away with a timid smile and threw a log into the stove again. The log-burning stove was her refuge. The old woman watched her granddaughter’s movements and felt a heavy strain by the girl’s behavior. She went to her and said, “Now it is the time to tell you the truth about your parents, here, in the presence of your mother. Now I am the happiest mother and grandmother. My favorite girls are next to me, and I will never lose you!”

“Tell me, Grandma, tell me.” Maya sat on the small sofa next to her loving granny.

“We lived a good life filled with joy, laughter, health, and with the people we love,” started the old woman. “We worked from morning till evening on the fields, feeding the animals, but we were also able to have joy, to sing, to meet friends. A young and very handsome man appeared in the village. He bought the best house at the end of the village, renovated it, turned it into a castle. He often organized gatherings with dances and lots of food. The hardest working guys of the village worked for him. His lands were fertile, his wealth increased, and his kindness was legendary.” Grandma Kalina stopped and looked at her daughter’s sad face. She grabbed her arm and continued. “At one of the parties, for the first time we also took my beautiful daughter, Leonora. Throughout the night, the master of the castle danced only with her. His gaze did not shift from our Leonora’s beautiful face. At the end of the evening, he saw us at the door with presents.

“We got home and my husband said, ‘Kalina, we’re going to marry our girl to this lovely boy. Did you see him dancing with her all night and sent us home with presents?’

“Our daughter listened to us, and her eyes sparkled. She had fallen in love with the handsome, young man. We organized a wedding. The whole village was invited, and our daughter became a real princess. A year later, they got a baby, a girl of unsurpassed beauty. And just when happiness was full, the biggest misfortune happened. Robbers attacked the house, not only robbing it, but also killing the handsome landlord and abducting my daughter. The only thing my Leonora was able to do was to hide the baby, wrapped in a blanket in a wood stove that had not been used for years and had holes. This is how some air could pass through in the stove… When we heard about the misfortune, your grandfather and I ran into their castle, searched all the rooms, shouted, and wept, until we finally heard a baby cry coming from the empty stove. Your grandfather opened the lid, and your little face, Maya, calmed down. We went back to our old house with you. We looked after you, looked for news about your mother, but there was no sign.”

Maya looked at her grandmother and pressed hard against her shoulder. Leonora’s eyes were even bigger, like dark mirrors in which Maya gazed with that peculiar, subconscious feeling that these were the eyes she dreamed of very often.

Then Leonora said: “Mom, let me tell you what happened when they tried to kidnap me.”

She turned to Maya. “Every night I raised you up with my hands and looked into your eyes, which are the same as your father’s, and I sang to you a baby song, and you smiled as if you understood everything.

“In the evening, when the robbers attacked and killed your father, I hid in one of the rooms, wrapped you in a blanket and hid you in the stove. Just as I was escaping out the window to the garden where we had a concealed rifle, one of these robbers reached me. He grabbed my hair, and when he pulled me toward himself, I was able to hit him on the head and escape. I ran a long way through the woods and reached a well. I hid in it and heard them pass the well. When I came out, I didn’t know who I was and I didn’t remember anything. I wandered through the woods, climbed trees. I looked wild, rugged, and was very hungry. I reached the doorstep of a house and left without strength. I fell asleep at the gate.”

Grandmother Kalina listened to the story, learning for the first time of her daughter’s torments, and Maya squeezed her grandmother’s hand even harder.

Leonora stopped, sipped her linden tea, and continued. “I woke up in the morning in a soft, comfortable bed. I tried to get up but had no strength. Then an old woman approached me and handed me a glass of an infusion of herbs. She said, ‘Drink, girl, you seem exhausted. Now, I’ll get you a snack.’

“At first, I didn’t talk. I looked at this good woman’s face, but I didn’t know who I was, what to say, and what to do. I had become a kid. Every day I began to recover, and my old woman friend read stories and she cooked. It was clean, warm, and cozy.

“My new friend told me that she had lived alone for years and that she had everything she needed and that she used to be a nun. Her name was Trayana. She violated one of the oaths and was forced to leave the monastic home. Thus, she isolated herself from everyone and everything. She cared for me and didn’t feel it as a burden. On the contrary, she prayed every night to help me improve, and even began to hum. She sang beautifully. One evening she sang a song I thought was familiar. I asked her to sing it again. We both sang, and tears rolled down my face. I felt a strange pain in my chest, but I still didn’t understand why. The nun hugged me and said that I would gradually recover and remember who I was and where my loved ones were. I didn’t know I lived that way for five years. Gradually, I regained my memory, and a cry of a child erupted in my head. At first, I didn’t know why.

“One morning I heard someone bang on the door, and I was scared. Such noise was made the night we were attacked with my husband. I jumped and hid behind the door, terrified. Granny Trayana, the nun, opened the door, and a middle-aged man appeared in front of her. Granny Trayana jumped for joy and hugged him. It was her brother she hadn’t seen for years. We sat at the table. The man looked at me, asked me who I was, but I still didn’t know. Then he placed a jewelry box on the table and said: ‘I was in the big city, beyond this mountain, and the trade is lively. I managed to buy this jewelry, my dear sister.’

“Grandma Trayana looked at the jewelry and said, ‘Yes, how exquisite and masterfully crafted.’ The old woman handed me a hair clip and a pair of earrings and said: ‘Here. They are for you. You are young and beautiful.’

“When I took them in my hands, I shook. This was my jewelry. I turned to Granny Trayana’s brother. ‘These are my jewels,’ I said, trying to remember how I knew that.

“‘I bought them from a market trader,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t suspect they could have been stolen.’

“It was evening, and I went to bed. My eyes stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. The next morning, I jumped up, picked up my hair clip, put it in my hair, put on the beautiful earrings, and looked myself in the mirror. Then I heard my husband’s voice: ‘How beautiful you are. You are all the beauty in the world…’ Gradually the voice stopped. I then knew who I was. I hugged Trayana and told her my story. Her brother listened, while she wiped her tears. Then he promised to bring me back to my village, but it took him time to find a carriage. And here I am with you.”

Little Maya looked at her mother’s face, the beautiful hair clip woven into her shiny hair, and the earrings that looked like drops.

“I also know who I am,” Maya said, looking at her mother, hugging her grandmother.

The sun is moving between the clouds, so the sky gets illuminated in black and white. The clouds are moving all in grey and white, and the sun absorbs their dark palette. Lena observed.

“Lena, Lena!” called Anna her classmate. “Hurry up; ten minutes remain until the ‘iron dragon’ arrives.”

Lena was day-dreaming, she moved and caught up with her friend. A blonde boy came down from nowhere in front of her.

“How can I get to the train station?” The boy asked

“Come with us.”  Lena blinked surprised but continued following Anna.

The train reduced its speed before it stopped and the blond boy asked again:

“Are you going to Inchiza?”

“Yes yes, we are” – Anna replied, pulling Lena to get into the train.

The three teenagers settled comfortably in the passenger compartment — and there was a brief silence.

The unknown boy initiated a conversation:

“I am Alessio, and I have moved to Inchiza recently. I prefer to walk to school, but I do not know the routes.” The boy smiled.

“That’s impossible. The distance is enormous! You’ll have to cross forests and rivers too.” Anna explained.

“I belong to the woods, and I lived there for twelve years without knowing the cities, the villages and even the transport,” Alessio answered.

“Who taught you to read and write?” Lena asked eagerly.

Alessio smiled and promised to explain. He then pulled a wooden piano made of cherry wood out of his bag. The keys of the musical instrument were made of ebony and amber. The two girls leaned over him and noticed some inscriptions over the keys. The amber keys had the names of the days written, and the ebony ones – the names of the months. Lena and Anna looked at the beautiful piano and hastily pressed the keys, but the piano made no sound.

“This piano taught me the days of the week and the names of the months. There, in the mountain forest, every key has its melody” Alessio explained.

Lena’s eyes grew larger, the edge of her eyelashes almost touched her beautifully shaped eyebrows:

“And will we be able to hear the music of the day as well as the music of the month?”   She asked.

“Yes, but only in the mountain forest and during the approach of Wolf Moon.” – the boy said quietly.

****

It was January 21, 2019, the day the astrophysicists had announced about the phenomenal coming-out blood-spattered moon, to full moon. The morning was bright, the sky blue, the air fresh, cold and everywhere – strangely quiet. One could hear from afar the approaching “Iron Dragon”.

Anna and Lena looked conspiratorially and suspiciously to see if anyone followed them and hid in the ‘head’ of the ‘dragon’ with their new friend Alessio.

The train entered the mountain and curved between stone heights, swamps, rivers until it reached its last mountain stop. Lena, Anna, and Alessio jumped off the train and walked towards the woods in the spirit of discoverers. They heard a dog barking. They looked around when in front of them appeared a beautiful Dalmatian joyfully circling Alessio and almost knocked him down.

“Lucky, Lucky, my friend!” Alessio’s blue eyes glowed, trying to cuddle the dalmatian’s muzzle.

Lucky fled, and the friends followed him until they reached a stone house with a mud and straw roof. They entered the house, and Alessio lit a small gas lamp and put a log in the steel stove. The walls were decorated in maps illustrating paths in the wood, peaks, and animals. At the very end of the room were Alessio’s books placed on a centenarian-oak. Lena and Anna couldn’t stop themselves from opening every book, and their eager eyes were following page after page.

 

******

Their fairy tale begins here.

They went out into the woods, and the two girls followed Alessio accompanied by the proud dalmatian until they reached a high tree. These wasn’t the usual tree. Its branches were covered with winter butterflies.  The small beetles spanned their colorful wings, flew up and landed back on the branches.

Lena pulled a camera from her bag and watched the flying beauties through the camera lens, shooting endlessly until some gentle music interrupted her. Alessio had pressed a key on the wooden piano. A piece of music was carried on to the tree intact with the movements of the butterflies as if they were little orchestra musicians, where each of their actions changed a note of the melody.

The mountain celebrated, enwrapped in the music of January.  Alessio pulled his finger off the amber key of the piano and the music gradually stopped.

The moon swallowed up a purple-red light and glowed in bloody red.

Lena pressed the camera button again when Lucky fled up to the top of the mountain. When the dog reached the highest point, he stood up on his hind legs and barked under the Wolf Moon. His fur coat absorbed the moon color and turned red with blue-green spots.

“My Lucky talks to the moon!”  Alessio joked.

Anna grabbed the camera from her girlfriend’s hands. Lena was irritated and flapped her hands up in the air.

“Anna! You cannot take my camera like that, get it back to me, get it back.” The little photographer begged.

Anna’s eyes got frozen when she looked at the last picture on the camera screen and shouted:

“Alessio, Lena has taken a magic photo!”

Lena stood beside her friend annoyed but decided not to lament. Three pairs of eyes were on the camera screen looking at the colorful butterfly tree, the red-colored Lucky, the Bloody Moon, and behind all this was a grand round Shadow.

“This is the Shadow of the Earth.” Alessio pointed with excitement. “Let’s hurry! I can show you the magic of the river.”

Lena glared at her friend, taking back her camcorder and said nothing.  Alessio whistled to Lucky and then turned to the girls:

“Look at the pine trees to the south, if we follow them, we’ll reach the river.”

The three teenagers strolled around pines, stumbled over stones, jumped over oaks until deep blue river appeared before them. Next to the river was a vast swarm of birds, as if the forest had “planted” them like trees.  If looked from above the overall picture would look like a white carpet with grey spots and yellow shades (the birds’ beaks) – thought Alessio. The birds strolled, squawked, and Lucky tried to chase them until he heard his master’s voice:

“Lucky! Do not get close to the birds!”

The dalmatian growled with frustration at the presence of the flying aliens.

“The red moon may have misdirected the birds.” Lena, who was silent the whole time irritated by Anna’s earlier behaviour said. She pulled out some jam pastries from her rucksack and fed the birds. In no time, she was surrounded by them, and they roared in gratitude. Lena photographed in different directions and guarded the camera against the rapacious birds.

Meanwhile, Alessio and Anna approached a huge bird with long legs, in white and black strips, feather-strands on her head, like a hat with a visor. They held their breath in front of the bird, who spread her wings. Gradually, the wings covered the nearby bank of the river.

“We’re under the wings of the Queen-bird!” Anna named the huge bird Queen.

Anna looked at Lena pleadingly, hoping to get forgiveness. Lena stood beside Alessio, zoomed in on the camera screen and said:

“The next miracle on my camera screen…” She paused and turned the camera towards Anna and Alessio – all of us with the birds under the shadow of the Earth.

Lucky was spinning, wagging his tail and looking at the river’s blue waters. When the birds rose and flew over the river, Lucky run towards the waters and waded in. The birds flew higher over the river and circled near the shore. They were orbiting over something like a ‘hemisphere’ that was flowing down the stream. The children ran towards the waters, and as they approached the river, the light coming from the ‘hemisphere’ grew stronger. Lucky swam towards the light, started snarling, something stopped him from moving, he began to drown. The Queen-bird came to his aid, lifted him with its wings and dropped him into the glowing ‘hemisphere’. The bright body approached the excited young adventurers.

“This is the amber tulip boat!” Alessio shouted.

“Looks like a blooming tulip with open leaves.” Anna said excitedly.

The tulip glowed, and the magnificent bird pushed the boat closer and closer to the children. They stepped into the water, took hold of the boat and began to climb. First, Alessio jumped into the tulip-boat and pulled Anna inside. Lena looked with doubts and did not dare to get closer to the amber tulip.

She looked at Alessio and said:

“I cannot swim; I cannot get on the boat. I’ll wait for you here.”

Saying this, Lenna felt her legs detached from the grass and thought that she was flying. The big bird had lifted the girl on its wings. Lena looked towards the moon, the blue river, and soon she landed inside the boat. Beside her were Lucky, Alessio and Anna. So, they floated along the river. The amber tulip glided until it reached cascades with waterfalls. The boat sloped from the high, and children’s voices echoed, and struck the mountain peaks. Lena grasped one of the tulips’ leaves’, and Lucky was right next to her feet. Anna was sitting in the middle of the beautiful flower-boat, and Alessio held her by one hand, while the other, he was leaning against the tulip wall. They could hear the hum of the water, and they could see the opposite wall of the tulip.

The amber tulip began to change its color. It switched from dark amber to dairy and finally to transparent-gold. The fear of the children intensified when the tulip leaves began to close. The friends were saved. Strange fish, jellyfish, pebbles, algae, crabs, snails, river stars floated around them. Lena switched on the flash and began to shoot through the transparent amber wall.

“We’re like an in a submarine.” – Alessio said.

“Yes, yes!” said Anna and embraced Lena. “I was afraid I would sink, and you would be still angry with me.”

Lena looked at her friend, took a photo of Anna in a sign of reconciliation, and showed her the picture. It was Anna’s warm brown eyes looking from the camcorder’s screen.

Lucky scratched with his paws on the amber boat walls, watching the floating water-habitants and the creatures that passed. The children were staring at the water world around them when they heard a voice from the Underwater Kingdom: “You know the moon, but you do not know the underwater ditches, our lives.” A gentle, odd little pink animal, touched its face on one of the amber leaves. Lucky bounced, Anna, Lena, and Alessio glued their faces in parallel to the transparent amber wall of the boat, staring at the strange creature. Lena’s camera began to snap, and the most unusual thing happened – voices came out of the camera.

“I am from the Underwater Kingdom. In the depths of the underwater world, we are many different species. We breathe with the oxygen that was left to us millions of years ago from your world! Keep the Earth and its Shadow safe …”

Lena held the camera-‘Speakerphone’, and the tulip boat rose steadily to the surface. The boat leaves opened, and the fresh air and breeze freshened the little adventurers. The tulip headed towards the shore. The children jumped out, Lucky barked happily, and when they turned back – the amber tulip already was far and shone in the distance.

Lena looked at her apparatus, and on the screen, she saw the beautiful Earth with its rivers, mountains, forests, and behind her the strange shadow of Our Planet.

„Слънцето се движи между облаците и затова небето е осветено в черно-бяло… Всъщност, облаците се движат сиво-бели на цвят, а Слънцето поглъща тяхната мрачна палитра…” разсъждаваше Лена.

-Лена, Лена – чу се гласът на Анна – побързай, десет минути остават до пристигането на железния змей.

Лена се забърза, унесена някак си, и механично догонваше приятелката си, когато към нея като че ли от нищото се спусна русоляво момче и запита:

-Как да стигна до гарата?…

-Тичай с нас – започна да мига с очи Лена и продължи напред.

Влакът намали скоростта си преди да спре, а младежът отново попита:

-За Инчиза ли пътувате?…

-Да – отвърна Анна и дръпна към себе си приятелката си, гледайки странника.

Тримата тинейджъри се настаниха удобно в купето и след кратко мълчание започнаха разговор:

-Аз съм Алесио и отскоро живея в Инчиза… Предпочитам да вървя пеш до училище, но не познавам пътя.

-Това е невъзможно, разстоянието е огромно. Ще трябва да пресичаш гори, реката – обясни Анна.

-Роден съм в гората и съм живял там цели 12 години без да познавам градовете, селата, транспорта…

-Кой те научи да четеш и пишеш? – попита Лена.

Алесио се усмихна и каза, че ще им обясни някои неща за себе си. После извади от чантата си дървено пиано, изработено от черешово дърво, а клавишите му – от абанос и кехлибар.

Двете момичетата се надвесиха над него и видяха някакви надписи.

На кехлибарените клавиши бяха изписани имената на дните, а на абаносовите – имената на месеците.

Лена и Анна разглеждаха красивото пиано и натискаха един след друг клавишите му, но пианото не издаваше звук.

-Това пиано ме научи да познавам дните от седмицата и месеците. Там, в планинската гора, всеки клавиш има своя мелодия – обясни загадъчно Алесио.

Очите на Лена се уголемиха, краят на миглите й почти докоснаха красиво очертаните й вежди:

-А ние ще можем ли да чуем музиката на деня, както и музиката на месеца? – попита Лена.

-Да, но само в планинската гора и то по време на наближаващата Вълча Луна – кротко отвърна момчето.

Беше 21 януари 2019-та, денят в който астрофизиците бяха известили за феноменалното наближаващо явление кървава Луна, пълнолуние.

Утрото беше ясно, небето синьо, въздухът свеж, студен и навсякъде – странно тихо. Отдалеко се чуваше приближаването на железния змей. Анна и Лена се огледаха заговорнически и подозрително дали някой ги следва и се скриха в главата на змея заедно с новия си приятел Алесио.

Влакът навлезе в планината и се извиваше между каменни височини, блата, реки, докато стигна до последната си планинска спирка.

Лена, Анна и Алесио скочиха от него и с бързи крачки се запътиха към гората, изпълнени с духа на откриватели. Чу се лай на куче и докато се огледат, пред тях радостно заподскача красив далматинец, който едва не събори Алесио.

-Лъки, Лъки, приятелю мой – светеха сините очи на Алесио,  опитвайки се да погали красивата муцуна на далматинеца.

Лъки побягна и младежите го последваха, докато стигнаха каменна къща с покрив от кал и слама.

Влязоха в нея и Алесио запали стоманена печка с дръвца. Стаята се осветяваше от газова лампа, а по стените висяха ръчно нарисувани карти с обозначения на дървета, гори, върхове, животни. В дъното столетник-дъб, а върху него книги, учебници… Лена и Анна гледаха…

****

Приказката започва…

Излязоха навън в гората и двете приятелки следваха Алесио с гордия далматинец до него, докато стигнаха високо дърво, на оголените клони на което бяха накацали зимни пеперуди. Малките хвъркатки разтваряха пъстрите си крилца, отлитаха и пак кацаха върху клоните на дървото. Лена извади фотоапаратчето си от чантата си и наблюдаваше през обектива му летящите красавици и щракаше непрекъснато, докато нежна музика не я прекъсна. Алесио бе натиснал клавиш от пианото… Музиката се пренасяше на дървото в такт с хвърченето на пеперудите, които като че ли бяха малки музиканти от оркестър. Всяко тяхно движение сменяше и нота от музиката.

Планината празнуваше, обляна в музиката на Януари, Януари, Януари… Алесио отдръпна пръста си от кехлибарения клавиш и музиката постепенно утихна. Луната поглъщаше пурпурно-червена светлина и засвети в кърваво-червено. Лена защрака с апаратчето отново, а Лъки побягна нагоре – към върха на планината. Когато стигна най-високата точка, се изправи на задните си лапи и залая под Вълчата Луна, а козината му се оцвети в червено със синьо-зелени петна.

-Моят Лъки разговаря с луната – пошегува се Алесио.

Анна грабна апаратчето от ръцете на приятелката си. Лена се раздразни и започна да маха с ръце във въздуха.

-Анна, не можеш така да ми отнемаш апаратчето, върни ми го веднага, върни го… – със зачервени очи се молеше малката фотографка.

Анна гледаше снимка по снимка и извика:

-Алесио, Лена е направила вълшебна снимка…

Лена застана до приятелката си, сърдита, подсмъркваща, но реши да не хленчи. И тримата видяха снимка, на която бяха дървото със цветните пеперуди, червено обагреният Лъки, Вълчата Луна, а зад нея Сянка, огромна кръгла Сянка.

-Това е Сянката на Земята – радостен заподскача Алесио – да побързаме, сега е момента да ви покажа вълшебството на реката.

Анна върна апаратчето на Лена, която начумерено я погледна, но нищо не й каза.

Алесио застана пред двете приятелки, изсвири на Лъки и предложи:

-Вижте боровите дръвчета на юг, ако ги следваме,  ще стигнем реката.

Тримата тинейджъри заобикаляха борчетата, спъваха се в камъни, прескачаха дъбове, докато пред тях се откри река с наситено син цвят. А до  реката – рояк огромни птици, като че ли гората ги беше „засадила” като „дървета”. Накацали, образуваха бял килим със сиви петна и жълти окраски – техните клюнове. Разхождаха се, грачеха, а Лъки се опитваше да ги подгони, но чу гласа на стопанина си:

-Лъки, не се доближавай до тях.

Кучето изръмжа недоволно от присъствието на хвъркатите пришълци.

-Червената Луна навярно е объркала посоката на птиците – предположи Лена, която през цялото време мълчеше, раздразнена от постъпката на Анна.

Измъкна кифлички с мармалад от чантата си и започна да храни птиците. Докато се усети, беше заобиколена от тях и те грачеха доволно. Апаратчето на Лена отново защрака, но снимаше на посоки, без да гледа в екрана му и го пазеше – този път от грабливите птици.

Алесио и Анна се доближиха до една птица с дълги крака, обагрена в бяло и черно на ленти, с перушина – кичур на главата си, като шапка с козирка. Затаиха дъх пред Птицата – Царица, която разпери криле. Постепенно те покриха близкия бряг на реката.

-Под крилете на птицата сме – каза Анна, гледайки умолително към Лена с надежда да й прости.

Лена застана до Алесио, увеличи снимката на екрана на фотоапарата и каза:

-Поредното чудо…

На екрана се виждаше Сянката на Земята, а в нея тримата тинейджъри и птиците. Лъки се въртеше, махаше с опашката си и гледайки към реката нагази в сините й води. След него птиците се издигнаха и излетяха и те над реката и започнаха да кръжат недалеко от брега. Кръжаха над нещо като полукълбо, което се носеше по течението.

Децата се затичаха и колкото повече се доближаваха до брега на реката, светлината, идваща от „полукълбото”, се засилваше. Лъки заплува към водната светлина, но отчаяно започна да прави нещо като пръхтене –  нещо го спираше да се движи, започна да се дави. На помощ му се притече огромната птица Царица, която го повдигна с крилете си и го пусна в светещото полукълбо. Светещото тяло се доближаваше до развълнуваните младежи.

-Това е кехлибарената лодка „Лале” – провикна се радостен Алесио.

-Прилича на разцъфнало Лале с отворени листа – махаше с ръка Анна, развълнувана.

Лалето блестеше, а огромната птица го приближаваше все по-близо и по-близо до децата…

Нагазиха във водата, хванаха се за лодката и започнаха да се катерят. Пръв Алесио скочи в нея и издърпа Анна, която пъргаво се озова до него. Лена гледаше страхливо и не смееше да се доближи до кехлибареното лале. Погледна към Алесио и каза:

-Не умея да плувам и ако се обърнем ще бъде фатално, не мога да се кача в лодката. Ще ви чакам тук – тъжно говореше Лена.

Но точно тогава красивата фотографка почувства как краката й се отделят от тревата и как лети. Голямата птица бе вдигнала момичето на крилете си. Лена гледаше към Луната, към синята река и почувства как стъпва. До нея бяха Лъки, Алесио и Анна. Така се понесоха по течението на реката. Кехлибареното лале се плъзгаше напред, докато стигна до каскади с водопади… Лодката се спускаше от високото, детските гласове кънтяха, ехото отговаряше, удряше се в планинските върхове. Лена се хвана здраво за едно от „листата” на лалето, а в краката й плътно се притискаше Лъки. Анна беше седнала в средата на красивото цвете, а Алесио я държеше за рамото с едната си ръка, а с другата се опираше на лалето „листо”. Чуваха бученето на водата, виждаха отсрещната стена на лалето, явно плуваха и се носеха не с дъното на лодката, а по една от страните й.

Кехлибареното лале започна да променя цвета си. Премина от тъмен кехлибар в млечен и накрая в прозрачно-златно.  Страхът на децата се засили, когато лалето започна да се затваря.  Но се оказаха спасени – някак странно около тях плуваха риби, медузи, имаше камъчета, водорасли, раци, охлюви, речни звезди…

Лена включи светкавицата и започна да снима през прозрачната кехлибарена стена.

-Ние сме като в подводница – пръв се престраши да говори Алесио.

-Да, да – зарадвана се обади Анна и прегърна Лена – изплаших се, че ще потънем и ти ще си ми сърдита.

Лена погледна приятелката си, щракна с апаратчето в знак на сдобряване и показа снимката. На нея бяха топлите кафяви очи на Анна.

Лъки драскаше с лапи по кехлибарената лодка, гледайки плуващите животни и организми, които подминаваха.

Децата се бяха загледали в света около тях, когато дочуха глас от подводното Царство:

–Вие познавате Луната, но не познавате подводните ровове, нашия живот.

Нежно, странно, малко животинче, оцветено в розово долепи муцунката си на едно от кехлибарените листа. Лъки заподскача, а Анна, Лена и Алесио паралелно залепиха лицата си, вперили погледи в непознатия пришълец. Апаратчето на Лена започна да щрака само и от него се чуха гласове:

–Аз съм от Подводното Царство. В дебрите на подводния свят ние сме много и най-различни видове. Дишаме с кислорода, завещан ни преди милиони години от вашия свят! Пазете Земята  и нейната Сянка…

Лена държеше апарата-говорител, а лодката Лале се издигна постепенно на повърхността. Листата й се отвориха и свежият въздух и ветрецът подействаха благотворно на малките приключенци. Лалето се насочи към сушата, спря на брега. Децата изскочиха, Лъки лаеше доволно и когато се обърнаха – кехлибареното лале вече светеше в далечината.

Лена погледна апаратчето си, а на екрана му се беше изписала нашата красива планета с нейните реки, планини, гори, а зад нея надничаше скромната й сянка.

 

 

An opera house in the Altai Mountains sat quietly under the heavy snow.

Fleur was on the first row when the red velvet curtain opened. Gentle snow drifted in front of the girl’s eyes, and the music accelerated the little charmer’s pulse. Her heart was bouncing, she breathed fitfully, her eyes dark-grey coals that melted the snowflakes on the stage.

The fairy ballerina danced in front of a huge white tree and a sleigh led by a little pony. The ballerina embraced her present, a doll given to her for Christmas, reached the tree and fell asleep. Thus, began the story of The Nutcracker, it was the dream of the little ballerina.

Fleur followed the dance of the kingdom of mice and the dance of the dolls. The music was changing the smile on her face—sometimes with sadness, sometimes with joy—until the red curtain appeared again.

Fleur was startled by the wild applause and joy of the audience.

The young girl grabbed her sheepskin coat and went home. The child was wading in deep snow in the mountains of Altai, and in her ears was the music of her favourite ballet.

A week passed since her excitement in the opera house, her heart throbbed, and her tender voice was humming the doll’s dance music.

So, the little wanderer went to the house of her friends. She knocked hard and loud on the door with her almost-frozen hand, her eyelashes whitened by the snow when the slender Rosemarie opened the door cheerfully:

“Come in, come in to warm up.”

One could hear the crackling of the logs in the fireplace. The teapot whistled.

“Ah, here’s the tea. Altai tea and you can try some of my grandmother’s sweet honey,” she said and happily offered Fleur a cup…

Fleur drank the tea and chattered quickly and excitedly about the beautiful ballet, The Nutcracker. Rosemarie watched her, followed her story closely, and even began to spin in a circle and raised high on her toes.

That’s when the naughty Philip rushed into the room. The boy looked at his sister Rosemarie, grabbed her shoulders, and tried to turn her body around. The room became noisy.

Rosemarie rotated on her toes and sat down. Fleur was smiling at the scene, admiring Rosemarie’s olive, nut-brown face radiating warmth and freshness under the projection of the fireplace’s flame.

“Girls, I discovered yesterday in the mountains a very strange house, shall we all go there?” Philip prompted the girls.

“What house? Come on, tell us,” Rosemarie said and rose, standing in front of her brother.

“Are you talking about the wooden mountain cottage with ‘landed’ lanterns on it, like birds and various animals circling around?” asked Fleur.

“No, it’s not that one. Do not ask me. Let’s go, and see it for yourself. Take your rucksacks, a thermos of tea, scones with jam, and a lighter.”

Hand-in-hand, Fleur and Rosemarie paddled into the snow and followed their guide when they stood in front of glacial waterfalls cascading into the sea. The glaciers hung from the top of the mountain ridge.

It was cold, the children were watching the running water, sipping warm tea, and their voices echoed.

– “Philip, what is this place called? It looks like a water slide. How far does the water flow down?” exclaimed Fleur.

“Magical snowy slopes of the Altai Mountains,”– Philip noted gleefully.

Rosemarie took Fleur’s hand. “Let’s go, let’s move. Otherwise, we will catch a cold.”

As Philip was clearing the way, he began to gasp, his face burning from the ice, turned red colour. His glassy green eyes shone like crystals. The group reached a forest of birch trees and Siberian cedar pines.

“We are lost,” Philip said, panicked.

Rosemarie and Fleur looked around, but the forest was endless and the trees grew thicker. Tears flowed down Rosemarie’s face. Fleur quickly suggested: “Let’s light a fire to keep warm.”

The friends found twigs, lit a fire, and began to drink tea and eat their delicious buns. There was a distant cry of an animal. The children were frightened and came close to one another near the fire.

Between the cedar, marals appeared, one at a time. Graceful, horned Altai reindeers. They stopped in front of the fire, feeling the heat. The little friends watched them, frightened, but the marals were gentle. Snow fell again, and the fire went out. The marals surrounded the children and began to narrow the circle until the little adventurers pressed against each other.

“They keep us sheltered from the cold air. How wise they are,” Fleur said. “Their fur coats are soft and warm.”

“Yes, yes, maral is the ethical image of beauty in Persian mythology,” said Rosemarie, her thin voice piercing the air..

“Wise and beautiful,” said Philip, relieved, and staring at the sky.

Gold falcons were circling in the sky, Altai’s falcons.

“Look, look girls.” Philip pointed to the falcons. “These are the rulers of the sky with their power, speed, and elegance.”

One of the falcons lowered and paced around the three buddies. The children were perplexed as the falcon approached Philip. The Altai bird had a big pink beak and carried a small piece of paper that was folded like a pipe. At first, Philip watched the strange movement of the falcon. The big bird continued to flutter around him.

“Philip, get the paper from the Falcon’s beak. This could be a message for you,” guessed Fleur.

Philip reached out, and, as the Falcon approached, he took the paper tube, unfolded it, and read: “Friends, follow the falcon, he will lead you to my house.”

The marals slowly began to move away, as they were convinced that the children were saved.

The falcon was flying high, low, high again, low and turning as if waiting for the little party. The children looked up and followed their air guide. Suddenly, an enormous sphere, a spherical house made of wood and shiny metal in rusty gold and covered in snow in places emerged before them.

“Here, this is the house I was telling you about.” Philip’s clear voice travelled in the crisp air.

The children approached the roundhouse and knocked on a window in the shape of a ship’s hatch. The falcon approached and knocked on the window with his beak.

There was a strange sound. Part of the shell of the house in the form of a wide semicircle about a meter wide rose from below to above as if someone was peeling an orange. It was the door of the spherical house, opening slowly in the shape of a slice.

Three pairs of eyes looked frightened when a slender figure of a man with glasses appeared before them with a snow lynx standing proudly next to him.

“Run, run, girls. See this lynx? His eyes are thirsty for prey,” huffed Philip.

“Do not be afraid, kids. You are welcome here. My Altai falcon brought you here. And this is an Altai lynx, my faithful, tamed companion and helper.”

Holding hands, the three friends entered the house. Philip’s eyes met the eyes of the exquisite lynx. Rosemarie reached out and ruffled the beige-white golden fur of the animal that happily turned its short tail.

“My friend’s name is Altai, it is an Altai lynx,” said the owner. “Come, children, to warm up and have a look at my ‘Round Kingdom,’” said the host of the house.

Fleur and Rosemarie took off their coats, hats, gloves. Philip still watched cautiously. His gaze was screening and memorizing everything he saw.

They approached a table with a jug of warm milk, pastries, and jam. The hungry children sat down on the soft stools and held out their hands, waiting to be invited.

“Please try all the food on the table, get warm, and then tell me about yourselves.” The host welcomed his little guests.

The children were munching with delight, sipped warm tea made of raspberries and blueberries, and chatted about the ballet Fleur seen at the opera house. The owner watched them, and when he heard of The Nutcracker, he said, “Follow me.” He showed them the ladder to the second floor.

They climbed a wooden ladder. The host placed them in small rotating chairs in front of a very large screen. Then he handed them a pair of big-frame glasses each.

“Now you will watch a winter fairy tale. Do not remove the glasses, or the magical spell will be broken.”

The children put their glasses on their little noses when Altai suddenly appeared crouched beside Rosemarie. The girl felt his soft fur on her feet and asked the host: “Can you please give a pair of glasses to Altai?”

“How witty. Yes, yes, there are glasses for Altai.” Pleased, the master of the house carefully placed the glasses on his pet’s muzzle.

Altai lifted his big soft paw, looked around at the children, crouched, and waited.

Gentle music spread around the round room.

“That’s Tchaikovsky, The Nutcracker,” Fleur whispered.

A ballerina holding a doll, surrounded by many dolls, appeared on the screen. The tympani were heard, followed by a flute, an English horn, and a violin. The dolls became lively and began to dance.

The three viewers stretched out their arms and touched the dolls, and Altai spun and whispered as if to sing.

Fleur was trying to catch the snowflakes. Rosemarie started at the prince and followed his movements, and Philip leapt around the tree under the waltz of the snowflakes.

The curtain fell, and the last sound of the harp slowed down.

The children sat numb, then stretched their hands to touch the velvet curtain. Silence. They took off their glasses.

“Tell us, tell us how it is possible we were in the fairy tale?” Fleur’s arms were still in the air, and she was looking at the host of the house.

“Kids, that’s the magic of the glasses you were watching with and the special screening.” He looked at them joyfully. “And now it’s time for you to go home. I’ll give you my sledge pulled by Altai. The golden falcon will fly over you so you won’t get lost.”

The sleigh pulled them in the snow when naughty Philip took out of his pocket a pair of magic glasses.

“How come you snatched the glasses? What did you do, Philip?” cried his sister.

“I wanted once again to look through the magic glasses and get into the story through the curtain under the snow,” whined Philip.

They reached Rosemarie and Philip’s house, and the three of them jumped off the sledge. All of them patted Altai. Rosemarie grabbed the glasses from her brother’s hands and put them on Altai’s cute muzzle. Altai lifted his fluffy paws and ran away with the empty sledge.

The golden falcon circled twice, croaked, and flew away.

Philip and Rosemarie’s grandmother opened the door and asked them anxiously: “Where have you been in this cold and snow? And you, Fleur, your parents will be waiting for you. But first, come in to warm up and eat. Tell me, where were you children wandering?”

Rosemarie ran to her room and returned with a small notebook and wrote: “The Curtain – A Winter Fairy Tale.”

Fleur and Philip leaned over the notebook and began to narrate, and Rosemarie was recording.

The grandmother sank into a nap and dreamed of The Curtain tale.

Фантастика

Утрото беше свежо, но въздухът тежък, изпълнен с шума от мотори, коли, влакове…

Учениците забързани тичаха за училище. Смехът и закачките им летяха и витаеха странно между сградите от стъкло в модерния град Стъклоград.

Годината е 2025! Дронове се движеха във въздуха и кацаха по покривите на високи сгради с пригодени площадки – портове. Така въздушният транспорт беше достъпен за някои служители, учители, но не беше още използван от семейството на Ниа.

Ниа, както винаги, беше първа сутрин рано в училището и винаги тичаше по стълбите до покрива, където паркираха два дрона. Единият беше на директора Г-н ………, а другият на учителя по музика Г-н …….

-Добро утро, Ниа – усмихнат слизаше от осмоъгълния дрон Г-н ….. Хубаво е, че ме посрещаш, време е за първия учебен час.

Не отбягна от погледа на Ниа лъскавата флейта и червената кадифена пелерина в ръцете на музиканта – учител.

Учениците бяха вече в стаята по музика и се надпреварваха и надвикваха да обсъждат различни случки.

Вратата се отвори и крехката Ниа се промуши и с бързи стъпки се добра до първия чин.

Настъпи тишина и всички стояха мирно, изправени до малките дървени чинове.

-Добро утро, ученици – поздрави с напевен глас младият учител.

-Добро утро, Г-н …… – отвърнаха въодушевени децата, следейки как красива червена пелерина и лъскава флейта бяха поставени върху огромното дървено бюро на учителя – Седнете – продължи той – Днес ще пресъздадем една стара приказка с помощта на музиката.

-Коя, коя приказка – провикнаха се в глас малките тинейджъри.

Но преди да отговори учителят, Ниа го изпревари:

-Червената шапчица, нали затова носите тази червена пелерина?

-Да, Червената Шапчица. Ще използваме музиката на сферите. Музиката се свързва с движенията на звездите и планетите и с пълнолунието – това е музика на магията. Ниа, ти ще разказваш облечена в тази красива червена пелерина.

Ниа се доближи до бюрото, взе пелерината, облече я и седна на стола пред бюрото с лице към своите съученици.

-Виктор – посочи учителят малкия синеок ученик – ти ще свириш на пианото по тези ноти, а аз ще акомпанирам с флейтата. А вие всички ще напишете своето съчинение за Червената шапчица, ръководени от разказа на Ниа и от настроението на музиката, която съм композирал.

Чуха се първите акорди от пианото, в които се усещаше шума на летящ обект и когато флейтата се включи, Ниа започна своя разказ:

„В едно прекрасно утро в град Стъклоград колите пъплеха по широката улица, трамбоходите се извиваха като змии между стъклените постройки, хората забързани по тротоарите в модерното ежедневие. Небето също имаше пътници, не много, но достатъчно на брой дронове с хора, пътуващи към своята дестинация. На един от дроновете беше малката, непослушна Алма. Момичето бе успяло да задвижи дрона без позволението на родителите си и летеше волно в небесното пространство.” – Ниа спря за миг да събере мислите си.

Музиката все още беше равна, но изведнъж премина в по- високите регистри. Тогава Ниа промени гласа си и тревожно продължи:

„И така, малката умница не успя да контролира голямата машина и пропадна между огромните яворови дървета в гората. Дронът се заби в крехката почва, а Алма грабна червената си пелерина, подарък от баба ѝ и тръгна между дърветата. Страх обгърна малкото ѝ сърчице и момичето се сгуши в красивото си червено наметало.”

Ниа спря за миг, пое дъх и изведнъж силното удряне по клавишите на пианото я стресна. Приказката продължаваше:

„Малката Алма викаше за помощ, пипаше всяко дърво, галеше листата, когато черните очи на внезапно появило се пред нея животно я разплакаха. Пред нея беше огромният сив вълк. Хитър, лукав, чакащ своята плячка.”

Ния дишаше на пресекулки, заслуша се в музиката, когато флейтата засвири с нежен, фин, тънък тон, който се извиваше и още повече натъжаваше слушателите.

„Алма се долепи до едно от дърветата, а вълкът следеше своята плячка. Животното въртеше опашката си, но като че ли изчакваше…. Алма бръкна в джобчето на пелерината си и усети нещо хладно, кръгло и измъкна ръката си.” – за миг Ниа спря, погледът ѝ шареше върху цветния прозорец с нарисувани по него ябълки, срещна жадните погледи на съучениците си и се заслуша в музиката.

„Малката Алма – продължи Ниа – държеше в ръката си сребърна ябълка, която ѝ беше също подарък от любимата ѝ баба. Сребърната ябълка е вълшебна – спомни си Алма думите на баба си. Луната засвети с пълна сила. Беше пълнолуние. Тогава Алма подхвърли металната ябълка в лапите на вълка, който лакомо се нахвърли върху нея. Стъпка по стъпка Алма започна да се отдалечава, когато ябълката засвети още по-ярко и кръвожадният вълк ослепя. Животното подскачаше, въртеше се, но беше загубило ориентация. Ревовете му се чуваха в цялата гора.

Алма тичаше, пипаше дърветата, листата и им говореше, чувствайки тяхната памет. Подмина дебел, мощен ствол с длановидни перести листа.

– Благодаря ви листенца – мърмореше си изплашено момичето и така успя да се върне до дрона. Покатери се по колелата-гуми, настани се на седалката, върза колана около себе си и погледна в екрана пулт. Погледът ѝ се спря върху малкия монитор, на който се изписа: „Прибирай се у дома, Червена шапчице. Натисни малкия авариен бутон в зелено и ще чуеш инструкции за излитане и за въздушните пътища в Стъклоград. Лицето на Алма засия. Луната светеше силно и точно, когато дронът се издигна, Алма чу рева на кръвожадния вълк.”

Пианото утихна постепенно, а флейтата имитираше рева на вълка.

Настъпи тишина. Бурно ръкопляскане.

-Браво, браво, Ниа, ти си нашата вълшебна разказвачка – викаха дружно децата.

Ниа съблече магическата червена пелерина и отново беше малкото, любознателно златокосо момиче, от чиито очи искреше обич и мъдрост, но в тях се криеше и тайната за Червената шапчица.

Къщата-опера бе сгушена под снега, продължаващ да вали силно над Алтайската планина.

Флора седеше на първия ред в Царската опера, когато червената плюшена завеса се отвори. Нежен сняг се сипеше пред очите на момичето, а музиката ускоряваше пулса на малката чаровница. Сърцето ѝ подскачаше, дъхът – на пресекулки, а очите ѝ – тъмносиви въглени, топяха снежинките на сцената.

Феерична балерина затанцува пред огромна елха и шейна, водена от малко пони. Балерината прегърна любимата си кукла подарена ѝ за Коледа, настани се до елхата и заспа. Така започна приказката за Лешникотрошачката, това бе съня на малката балерина.

Флора следеше танца на царството на мишките, на куклите, а музиката сменяше усмивката на лицето ѝ ту с тъга, ту с радост, докато червената завеса отново се появи. Тя се сепна от бурните аплодисменти и радостните изблици на публиката.

После грабна кожухчето си и се запъти към дома. Газеше в дълбокия сняг, в планините на Алтай, а в ушите ѝ звучеше музиката на любимия балет.

Мина седмица от вълнението ѝ в операта, сърцето ѝ все още туптеше припряно, а нежното ѝ гласче тананикаше мелодията на танца на куклите.

Така Флора веднъж стигна до къщата на приятелите си. Почука силно на вратата с премръзнала ръчичка, с побелели от снега мигли, когато слабичката Розмари ѝ отвори зарадвана:

– Влизай, влизай да се стоплиш.

Чуваше се пращенето на дръвцата в камината и чайникът засвири.

– А, ето и чаят е вече готов, алтайски чай… И ще ти дам от сладкия мед на баба.

Детето отпи от чая и заприказва бързо и развълнувано за красивия балет, за Лешникотрошачката. Розмари я гледаше, следеше внимателно разказа ѝ и дори започна да се върти в кръг, повдигната на палци. Точно тогава в стаята се втурна като мълния палавият Филип. Момчето погледна сестра си, хвана я за раменете и я завъртя. Стана шумно, а Розмари се обърка в движенията си и седна на земята. Флора се заливаше от смях, загледана в мургавото личице на приятелката си, на което пламъкът от камината придаваше топлота и свежест.

– Момичета, вчера открих навътре в планината странна къща. Елате да я разгледаме – подкани ги Филип.

– Каква къща? Кажи, де? – стана веднага Розмари и застана пред братчето си.

– Да не би да говориш за дървената планинска къщичка с накацалите по нея фенери, край която обикалят животни – обади се Флора.

– Чакайте, не ме разпитвайте, по-добре да отидем и да видите сами. Вземете си раничките с термос с чай, кибрит, кифлички с мармалад, малките прожекторчета…

***

Хванати за ръка Флора и Розмари газеха в снега и следваха водача, когато пред тях се откриха водопади. Водопадите се спускаха по склона на планина от ледници, които висяха на върха на планинския хребет.

Беше студено, но децата гледаха изтичащата вода, отпиваха топъл чай, а гласовете им се носеха като ехо.

– Филип, как се нарича това място? Прилича на водна пързалка… С каква сила водата се стича надолу?…

– „Вълшебните снежни склонове на Алтай” – радостно отбеляза Филип.

Розмари хвана приятелката си за ръка:

– Да вървим, ще измръзнем, трябва да се движим.

Филип разчистваше пътя, започна да се задъхва и лицето му гореше, потънало в руменина. Стъклено-зелените му очи светеха като кристалчета. Така стигнаха до една гора от брезови дръвчета и сибирски кедрови борчета.

– Изгубихме се – каза Филип разтревожен.

Розмари и Флора се огледаха, но гората беше безкрайна, а дръвчетата все повече и повече се сгъстяваха. Сълзи потекоха по измръзналото личице на Розмари, но Флора бързо се ориентира:

– Да запалим огън, да се стоплим и да хапнем.

На едно място изровиха под снега съчки, запалиха огън и започнаха да пият чай и да похапват от вкусните кифлички. В далечината се чу плач на животно. Децата се изплашиха, приближиха се близо едно до друго около огъня. Между кедровите борчета един след друг се появиха марали – грациозни, алтайски елени. Доближиха огъня усещайки топлината му. Малките приятелчета ги гледаха уплашени, но маралите бяха кротки. Започна отново да вали сняг и огънят угасна. Маралите заобиколиха децата и взеха да стесняват кръга, докато напълно ги притиснаха едно към друго.

– Те ни пазят, топлят ни… Колко са мъдри – досети се Флора – Козината им е мека и топла.

– Да, да, Марал е етичният образ на красотата в персийската митология – се чу тънкото гласче на Розмари.

– Мъдри и красиви – каза вече успокоен Филип, гледайки към небето.

Златни соколи кръжаха горе в небето, соколите на Алтай.

– Това са властелините на небето тук със своята сила, скоростта и елегантността на полета си… – кънтеше в хрупкавия въздух тънкият глас на Розмари, сочеща соколите.

Една от птиците се снижи и започна да обикаля около трите приятелчета. Децата гледаха с недоумение, особео когато соколът приближи Филип, носейки в големия си розов клюн навита на фуния хартия. Отначало Филип наблюдаваше безучастно странното движение на сокола, летящ край него.

– Филип – досети се Флора – вземи тази фунийка от клюна му, това е може би писмо за теб.

Филип се протегна и когато Соколът се доближи съвсем, дръпна хартиената фунийка, отвори я и зачете:

– Приятели, следвайте Сокола, той ще ви доведе до моята къщичка.

Маралите полека лека започнаха да се отдалечават.

***

Соколът летеше ту високо, ту ниско, обръщаше се като че ли изчакваше малката детска група. Децата гледаха нагоре и следваха своя въздушен водач. Изведнъж пред тях изникна огромно кълбо – сферична къща цялата от дърво и бляскав метал в ръждиво злато, на места покрита със сняг.

– Ето, това е къщата, за която ви разказвах – се носеше гласа на Филип в хрупкавия въздух.

Тримата приятели се приближиха до кълбото-къща и заудряха по прозорчето, което беше във формата на люк на кораб. Внезапно Соколът се приближи и също почука с клюна си.

Чу се странен звук. Част от „обвивката” на къщата във форма на полукръг широк около метър започна да се издига отдолу нагоре – като че ли някой белеше кората на портокал. Това беше вратата на сферата-дом на някого, която се надигаше бавно във формата на резен.

Трите чифта очи се вторачиха изплашени, когато пред тях се показа стройната фигура на мъж с очила, а в краката му гордо изправен стоеше снежен рис. Филип се обърна към момичетата.

– Да се махаме, вижте този рис, очите му са жадни за плячка – хлъцна Филип.

– Не се плашете деца, стигнахте до тук, моят Алтийски Сокол ви намери и ви доведе при мен. А това е наистина Алтийски рис, но той е опитомен и е мой верен другар и помощник.

Хванати за ръце, трите приятелчета приближиха стопанина на странната къща. Очите на Филип срещнаха погледа на красивия рис. Розмари протегна ръка и я прокара през бежово-бялата златиста козина на животното и то щастливо завъртя късата си опашка.

– Алтай се казва моят приятел… – рече стопанинът – Елате деца да се стоплите и да разгледате моето кръгло царство – усмихна се после стройният мъж.

Флора и Розмари свалиха палтенцата, шапките и ръкавиците си, а Филип гледаше предпазливо. Погледът му шареше и запаметяваше всичко видяно.

Приближиха маса, на която имаше кана с топло мляко, банички, конфитюр и сок от портокали. Малките гладници насядаха на меки и удобни столчета и протегнаха ръце при поканата:

– Хапвайте, стоплете се и после ще ми разкажете за себе си.

Децата ядяха сладко, отпиваха от топлия чай от малини и боровинки, бъбреха, а стопанинът ги наблюдаваше и когато чу за Лешникотрошачката ги подкани:

– Елате с мен, деца – и им показа стълбата към втория етаж.

Изкачиха се по дървената стълба. Стопанинът ги настани в малки въртящи се столчета пред вдлъбнат голям, голям екран. После им подаде по чифт очила с огромни рамки.

– Сега ще ви пусна зимна приказка. Не сваляйте очилата, защото магията ще се развали.

Децата наместваха очилата върху малките си носленца, когато изведнъж се появи Алтай и приклекна до Розмари. Момичето почувства меката му козина до крачетата си и помоли:

– Може ли да дадете чифт очила и на Алтай?

– Колко остроумно, да, да, ето и очила за Алтай – зарадва се стопанинът и внимателно ги закрепи върху муцуната на домашния си любимец.

Алтай повдигна голямата си мека лапа, огледа децата и се кротна, приклекна и зачака.

Нежна музика се разнесе в кръглата стая.

– Та това е Чайковски, Лешникотрошачката – прошепна Флора.

На екрана се появи балерина, държаща в ръцете си кукла, заобиколена от много други кукли. Чуха се тимпаните, последвани от флейта, английски рог и цигулка. Куклите се оживиха и започнаха да танцуват.

Малките зрители протягаха ръце и се докосваха до куклите, а Алтай се въртеше и скимтеше, като че ли ще запее.

Флора се опитваше да лови снежинките. Розмари гледаше Принца и следваше движенията му, а Филип подскачаше около елхата под музиката на валса на снежинките.

Завесата се спусна и последните звуци на арфа бавно затихнаха.

Децата седяха като вцепенени, протегнаха ръце, за да докоснат плюшената завеса. Свалиха очилата…

– Кажете, кажете ни, как е възможно, ние бяхме в приказката? – разпалено размахваше ръце Флора към стопанина на къщата- кълбо.

– Деца, такава е магията на очилата, с които гледахте и специалната прожекция на моето кино – радостен за преживяването им отвърна домакинът. – А сега е време да тръгнете обратно, но този път ще ви дам шейната си и ще я тегли Алтай, а над него ще лети моя приятел – Златният сокол, за да не се изгубите.

Шейната се плъзна по снега, когато малкият Филип измъкна от джоба си вълшебните очила.

– Какво си направил, ти си отмъкнал очилата… Не може така… –

силно викна сестричката му.

– Исках още веднъж да погледам през тях и да вляза в приказката през завесата под снега – хленчеше Филип.

Стигнаха дома на Розмари и Филип, и тримата скочиха от шейната, потупаха Алтай и Розмари грабна очилата от ръцете на брат си, сложи ги на муцуната на Алтай. Той вдигна пухкавата си лапа, излая веднъж и побягна обратно с празната шейна. Златният сокол се завъртя още два пъти, изписка и се отдалечи.

Бабата на Филип и на Розмари в този момент отвори вратата и ги прикани разтревожена:

– Къде бяхте досега в този студ и в този сняг? И ти Флора с тях, твоите родители ще те чакат, ще се тревожат. Хайде влизайте всички, елате първо да се стоплите, да хапнете и да ми разкажете къде сте скитали?

Розмари изтича до стаята си и се върна с малка тетрадка, в която написа: „Завесата” – зимна приказка.

Всички се надвесиха над тетрадката и започнаха да разказват, а Розмари пишеше… Бабата се унесе в дълга и дълбока дрямка и засънува тяхната приказка – „Завесата”.

Едни любопитни очила се бяха долепили до прозореца и през тях гледаха очи с лешников цвят, шареха по стъклените сгради, по външния стъклен асансьор и почти стъкленото небе.
На очите им се искаше да преминат през прозореца, да протегнат ръце, да докоснат небето.
Оглушителен звук като от тромпет и приличен на песен на африкански слон още повече възбуди въображението на Аврора. На стъкленото небе с неонови букви се изписа:
„Ще разчиташ древни знаци, клинописи…”
Аврора намести пластмасовите рамки на очилата си върху малкото си носле, грабна тетрадката си и с палто в ръка се затича към моста.
Лусия тупаше с крака в снега и при появата на приятелката си й махна с ръка:
-Аврора, побързай и си облечи палтото. Този ужасен звук ме изнерви, откъде ли идва?…
-Скърцащият звук пътува до тук от онази стъклена сграда, която има формата на пъпеш – посочи Аврора – Стъклен асансьор е закачен върху метален меридиан, който се отмества вертикално по сградата (пъпеш) и това издава този дразнещ звук в горните регистри.
Лусия следеше с интерес описанието, когато Аврора ѝ поднесе още един много интересен факт:
-Знаеш ли, докато съзерцавах стъкления свят около нас, погледът ми докосна небето, което има поведение на стъкло. Облаците, като че ли преминават от газово аморфно в твърдо аморфно състояние, каквото е стъклото. Моето най-голямо желание се изписа върху стъклото с неонови букви: „Ще разчиташ древни знаци, клинописи…”
Лусия се спря, погледна приятелката си, чиито очила бяха почти покрити със сняг, почисти ги с кърпичката си и усети като че ли стрела драсна с острия си връх замръзналите ѝ пръсти, клепачите на очите ѝ и се заби в горната ѝ устна. Така ѝ действаше зимата с минусовите температури.
Приятелките продължиха по моста, пресякоха огромно платно и се шмугнаха по малки улички, водещи до Галерията. Отвориха тежката врата на модерна изложба и се озоваха в празна стая с легло в средата и разхвърляни върху него нощница, книга, а юрганът висеше до пода.
Лусия гледаше с учудване и то не беше свързано с усета ѝ за изкуство и това, което очакваше да изпита от така прехвалената модерна изложба. Обърна се и след като не видя Аврора до себе си се запъти по коридор с бледолилава светлина с ухание на теменужки.

-Лусия, побързай, ела да видиш нещо, което изразява моето разбиране за мода на въображението – я извика Аврора, която беше вече в края на коридора.
Странна фигура с огромни размери запълваше почти цялото пространство на стая с висок Викториански таван.
-Това е тесеракт – прошепна Аврора – четириизмерният аналог на куба.
Малки часовникови механизми се намираха на всеки връх на фигурата и цъкаха като стенен часовник.
-Тесерактът има хиперповърхност с осем кубични клетки – добави Лусия.
Цък, цък, цък – цъкането беше равномерно и клетките започнаха да се движат. Появиха се букви между различните клетки, които изписаха: „Приказка за Потъналия Град”.
Заглавието приближи малките гостенки на Галерията, докосна нежно челата им като лек полъх, мина покрай лицата им и отмина.

Чу се шум, клокочене на вода. Тесерактът наподобяваше тюркоазено-синьо езеро, в което Аврора се гмурна последвана от приятелката си, с чувство на олекотеност и възможност да се диша без кислородни маски.
Разглеждаха подводния свят със завещания му кислород от преди милиони години. Подминаха сладководни риби, медузи, растителност, камъчета, докато пред тях се откри църковна старинна камбана. Камбаната беше от тежка сплав и по заоблената ѝ повърхност бяха изписани йероглифи и византийски номера. Беше захлюпена като капак на тенджера върху розов скалист материал.
Аврора се опитваше да разчете, но безуспешно, а Лусия подминаваше останки от сгради, дънери на дървета със стотици слоеве …
Разходката в потъналия град продължаваше. Отминаха находки от мед, странна сплав в синьо-сребристо, нещо като панти за колан, шлемове на войни, скулптури и остатъци от паметници отново с тези странни надписи и знаци.
Лусия докосваше всичко, до което се доближи и реши, че ще си присвои малко съкровище. Инстинктивно стисна ръката си, когато до нея достигна онзи странен звук на тромпет.
Лусия беше извън тесеракта и гледаше объркана как Аврора си търси очилата, опипвайки пода и стените.
На излизане от Галерията, Аврора бръкна в джобчето си и измъкна пластмасовите си рамки.
Студът се усилваше, когато двете приятелки вече бяха изминали половината мост и отново ги застигна звука на тромпета.
Аврора почисти стъкълцата на очилата си и погледна към небето:
– УТРАРУ – засрича Аврора.
– УТРАРУ – повтори Лусия с тракащи зъби. Та това е огледалния образ на УРАРТУ – погледни надолу към замръзналата река.
Аврора запрегръща приятелката си:
-Царството на Урарту, потъналия град е в Царството на Урарту – и погледът ѝ спря върху малкото юмруче на приятелката ѝ.
-Защо не си отвориш ръката, какво криеш, ще замръзнеш, дори нямаш ръкавици?…
Лусия бавно отвори ръката си, но в нея нямаше нищо.

-Аврора, през цялото време мислех, че съм взела от езерото малко кръстче, като че ли беше от метални жички, като дантела – хленчеше Лусия.
-Ти го носиш в сърцето си, то принадлежи на нашите предшественици – успокои я малката философка.
Лусия усещаше отпечатъка на кръстчето върху крехката си длан. Сърчицето ѝ биеше с такт на стенен часовник.

A pair of spectacles was seemingly glued to the window, and through them curious, hazel-coloured eyes observed the glass buildings, an outer glass elevator, and glass-like sky.

Through her eyes, she was fantasizing that she could penetrate through the window and could reach out to the sky.
A deafening sound like an African elephant’s trumpet provoked Aurora’s imagination. A message in neon letters appeared on the sky:
“You will see an ancient sign, cuneiform writing.”

Aurora adjusted the plastic-rimmed spectacles on her pointed nose, grabbed her notebook and coat, and ran out toward the bridge.
Glittering snowflakes fell soundlessly, taking their time before they reached their destined places of rest. The snow was damp; every step felt like walking in mud.
Lusiya was marching in place to stay warm when she saw her friend approaching and waved at her eagerly.
“Aurora, hurry up,” Lusiya said. “This terrible sound makes me panicky. Where does it come from?”
“The creaking sound travels here from that glass building that’s shaped like a melon,” Aurora explained. “A glass elevator is docked on a metallic meridian that moves vertically along the melon building and causes this irritating sound in the upper registers.”

Lusiya was following the sketchy description when Aurora amused her even more.
“Whilst I was contemplating the glass world around us, my gaze touched the sky that resembles glass. The clouds seem to pass from amorphous gas to a solid, amorphous state like glass. My greatest focus was on the glassy sky in neon letters: “You will see on ancient signs, cuneiform writing…”

Lusiya looked at her girlfriend as snow sat heavy on Aurora’s glasses and she wiped them with her handkerchief. The snow was now harsh and biting. Lusiya felt as though arrows struck her fingers, her eyelids, and slammed into her upper lip.

The friends continued to the other side of the bridge to the main road. They crossed the road and went down the small streets leading to the gallery.

They opened the heavy door of a modern exhibition and found themselves in an empty room with a bed in the middle and scattered on it a nightgown, a book, and the quilt hanging off the bed to the floor.

Lusiya stared with astonishment. She wasn’t expecting such a praised modern exhibition. She turned around, but Aurora was not there. She continued along a corridor in a pale-white light and scent of violets.
“Hurry up, come and see something that describes my understanding of ‘fashion in the imagination,’” announced Aurora, waiting for her friend at the end of the corridor.

A strange figure of huge size filled almost the entire space of a room with a high Victorian ceiling.
“This is a tesseract,” whispered Aurora, “the four-dimensional analogue of the cube.”

Small clockwork mechanisms were found on the top of each angle of the figure, and they were ticking like a wall clock.

“The tesseract has a hypersurface with eight cubic cells,” whispered Lusiya.

Ticktock, ticktock… The ticking was even, and the cells began to move.

Letters emerged between the various cells that assembled a title: “A Tale of the Sunken Town.”

The title approached the young guests of the gallery, tinged their foreheads gently as a light breeze, moved past their faces, and disappeared.

There was a noise, a screech. The tesseract resembled a turquoise-blue lake. Aurora dived, followed by her friend, with a sense of lightness and no need for oxygen masks.
They explored the underwater world with its legacy oxygen of millions of years ago. They passed by freshwater fish, jellyfish, vegetation, and pebbles before they came to a church bell. The bell was made of a heavy alloy, and its rounded surface had hieroglyphs and Byzantine numbers engraved. It was positioned like a pot lid on a pink, rocky material.

Aurora was trying to read, but unsuccessfully, and Lusiya passed the remains of buildings, tree trunks with hundreds of layers…
Their mysterious swim in the sunken city continued. They were passing floating copper finds; a strange alloy in blue and silver, like belt hinges; helmets; sculptures; and remnants of monuments; again with these strange inscriptions and signs.

Lusiya touched everything she came close to and decided she would take a little treasure. She instinctively squeezed her hand as the trumpet sound came back to her.
Lusiya was out of the tesseract and stared at Aurora, who was looking for her glasses, fumbling for them as touched the floor and the walls.

On leaving the gallery, Aurora reached into her pocket and pulled her plastic specs out.

The cold grew when the two friends had already crossed the half of the bridge and the trumpet sound emerged again.

Aurora wiped her glasses and looked up at the sky:

“UTRARU.”

“UTRARU,” repeated Lusiya with chattering teeth. “That’s the mirror image of URARTU—look down on the frozen river.”

Aurora hugged her friend.

“The sunken city is in the kingdom of Urartu,” she said, and her gaze stopped on her girlfriend’s little fist. “Why don’t you open your hand? Your ungloved fingers will freeze. What do you hide?”

Lusiya slowly opened her hand, but there was nothing in it.

“Aurora, all the time I thought I had taken a little cross from the lake. It was made of metal wires, like lace,” Lusiya whimpered.

“You carry it in your heart. It belongs to our predecessors,” answered the little philosopher friend.

Lusiya still felt the impression of the cross on her fragile palm. Her heart beat with the rhythm of a wall clock.

 

Story also available on:

https://fairytalez.com/user-tales/a-tale-of-the-sunken-city/

 

 

 

Еърбъс 320 летеше високо над облаците, които бяха оцветени в нежно синьо като спокойно море. Наслаждавайки се на красивата гледка под лявото крило на самолета, Маня забеляза нещо като скутер, чертаещ път в далечината. Сребрист на цвят самолет, пореше небесния океан. Набирайки скорост странният самолет настигна Еърбъс 320 и продължи напред точно под крилото му.

Небето продължаваше да е синьо и без звезди, без Слънце, без Луна.

Двата самолета се движеха успоредно един под друг като птици без грижи – волно и красиво.

Много лек шум на двигател се носеше в салона на самолета –

равноделен, приспивен.

Небето заговори – свят на облаци, които започнаха да се обагрят от синьо в бяло, от бяло във въгленово сиво, докато напълно покриха сребристия самолет.

Маня беше настанена на последната крайна седалка – 30А и усилено търсеше с поглед другия самолет, но той сякаш потъна в някой от облаците. Погледът ѝ прескачаше от облак на облак, но нямаше и следа от металната, сребриста птица. Момичето не посмя да попита никой от пътниците за летящата наблизо сребриста птица. То притежаваше фотографска памет и беше запечатала всеки детайл на другата машина – от острия нос на самолета и тънките му издължени криле, до подобната му на извивка на риба гърбина. Стискаше здраво в ръцете си телефона, с който успя да го снима през малкия люк на самолета от своето място – 30А.

Кацането беше меко, като кацане на перо на земята в ранното мартенско утро.

Прохладен морски бриз погали матовата кожа и разпиля тъмните кестеняви кичури на тинейджърката, пристигнала в родния си град.

Таксито спря пред метална порта с нарисувани по нея шахматни квадрати. Задоволство се изписа по лицето на Маня и една малка тръпчинка усилваше почти детското ѝ усещане.

Миризма на зюмбюли, както и пъстрите цветове на цъфнали вече теменужки изпълниха сърцето ѝ с радост и любов към всичко в този двор, в тази къща.

Новините по телевизията в 10 сутринта бяха наситени с обичайните репортажи за политици, измами, болници, войни, когато с червен цвят на екрана се изписа надписът ИЗВЪНРЕДНИ НОВИНИ и Маня прочете следното съобщение: „Тази сутрин към 2:30 часа  неидентифициран самолет е бил забелязан успоредно до Еърбъс 320. Когато земният контрол се опитал да се свърже с екипажа му, самолетът изчезнал без никаква диря.”

Девойката изтръпна, погледът ѝ замръзна върху екрана на телевизора. Отпи от топлото мляко с какао, грабна мобилния си телефон и с бързи крачки се отправи към обсерваторията.

Топлите очи на Професора я гледаха с любопитство.

-Знам, защо така си подранила. Чух новините, но чакам ти да ми разкажеш.

Маня прегърна стареца, подаде му кутия шоколадови бонбони, от любимите му пияни вишни. Малките ѝ пръсти тупаха по екрана на телефона–андроид нетърпеливо, търсейки снимката на сребристия самолет. Прехапа устни, когато на снимката под крилото на Еърбъс 320 вместо сребрист самолет имаше сив облак.

-Но, аз видях този странен самолет – объркана заобяснява Маня и продължи – метална машина с остра муцуна, тънки разперени криле и с тяло като извит гръб на риба.

Професорът следеше разказа на своята ученичка, приближи бюро, на което беше неговият саморъчно сглобен лаптоп. Написа паролата си, която всички негови ученици знаеха „Еврика 007”. Очите му гледаха с безпокойство и той като Маня тупаше нервно по клавиатурата. Отваряше файлове, докато накрая стигна до файл с името „Феникс”. На екрана се появи снимката, която Маня беше заснела със своя телефон–андроид от прозорчето (люка) на самолета от място 30А. Красивият сребрист самолет изпълни целия екран.

Професорът включи прожекторите, така че на тавана на планетариума се изписаха звезди, съзвездия. Маня погледна към светещите очертания, звездни обекти, които вече познаваше и разучаваше с интерес.

– Сигурно се питаш как снимката от телефона ти е попаднала в моя лаптоп – вече спокоен пръв проговори професора.

Маня доближи телескопа, погледна нахвърлени листчета с бележки около него – с отбелязани дати, часове…

– Да, така е, следях с телескопа през последния месец странни движения на обект и то винаги в 2:30 сутринта и записвах всичко, както и внезапното изчезване на сребристия обект. Досетих се, че летиш с късния полет в същия час, когато се появява този странен обект. Използвах сигнал от спътника „Феникс”, който бяхме изпратили с група учени преди четвърт век. Манипулирах сигнала така, че да записва всичко от твоя телефон–андроид в моя лаптоп. Точно в 2:30 сутринта видях снимката, която ти беше направила от самолета. Твоето предимство е, че си видяла този самолет с очите си, а аз чрез снимката.

Професорът  включи огромния телевизор, висящ на стената като в портретна галерия.

Маня погледна към екрана под „звездното небе”, когато любимият ѝ говорител за прогнозата на времето се появи:

– И така „ИЗВЪНРЕДНИ НОВИНИ” и в прогнозата за времето – ще превалява нещо между дъжд и сняг, ще сребри в синьото небе и нашите служби не ще могат да го засекат…

Тогава на картата за времето се появи детска рисунка: сребърен самолет с остра муцуна, с тънки крила и с извит като на риба гръб.

– Това е рисунка на пътничка от самолет Еърбъс 320, която е успяла да нарисува неидентифицирания самолет, за който чухте в нашите „ИЗВЪНРЕДНИ НОВИНИ”. И така, очаквайте сребърен ветрец и мартенска прохлада – завърши с обичайното си чувство за хумор синоптикът.

Маня погледна Професора.

– Имате нова ученичка, Професоре, художничката от самолета.

Лаптопът издаде сигнал – на екрана му се появи рисунката на малката художничка.