I screamed and screamed, but the true object of my annoyance was the she-rabbit that so humiliated me in the valley, and that now had become the cause of an argument.
“Shut up!”
“I won’t shut up! You fried piggies! Two pink tender babies! You crisped their ears! I remember it well!”
“You—you fascist!” Khrystia wailed and, covering her face with her arms, ran out of the room.
I struck the she-rabbit on the floor in anger. I wanted to crush it, so that not even a wet spot was left after it.
“Daddy, what’s a fascist?”
Damn, that’s all I need.
“That’s a bad guy,” I grumbled just to extricate myself.
“Daddy, are you a bad guy?”
“No, Andriyko, I’m a very good guy... What kind of a guy am I for you? I’m a dad! A really good dad! See, I brought you a baby rabbit.”
I didn’t notice that I had raised my voice again, and the little guy’s face grew sour, his lips pouting—ready to cry.
“Andriyko, your dad’s good, isn’t he? Don’t be angry at your dad. Your mom and I have had a little tiff, and now we’ll make up. And then your daddy’ll cook the she-rab... the rabbit, and we’ll eat him up.”
“Then why did Mommy say she won’t eat her?”
“Her? Who’s her?”
“The she-rabbit.”
Lord...
“Mommy was kidding. Daddy will go now to apologize to Mommy.”
6
Khrystia was sitting on a couch with her hands propping up her chin.
“Khry... well, Khry... what’s with you, for God’s sake... Do you want me to throw her out? Do you? I can bury her in the garden. I can carve out a cross and coffin.”
“Don’t crack jokes.”
“You’re altogether... How could I know whether it was a she-rabbit or a male?.. And how it turned out I can’t understand, why are you so depressed?”
“Because this won’t end up in anything good.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ll take revenge.”
“Who?! What’s with you?”
“Didn’t anything strange happen to you during the hunt?”
“There was something... For example, a lot of blood came out of the she-rabbit. Then... she weighed twice as much as a rabbit her size, even though she wasn’t pregnant.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing else.”
“Not true.”
Women’s intuition is the 28th wonder of the world, that’s why I was forced to describe everything as it happened in sequence.
I put the she-rabbit into the freezer and in the morning before leaving for work buried her in the garden. I couldn’t eat her anyway. Her wild look remained in my memory.
In the evening on returning from work while I was still in my car, I noticed a stranger who was looking into our window. A sloping incline allowed me to roll up silently all the way to the gate with the motor turned off. I tried not to frighten him, but the damn gate screeched anyway, and the stranger ran around the corner. I rushed after him, but he disappeared without a trace.
“Take out the trash,” Khrystia said after dinner.
Obediently, since this is one of my most significant duties, I carried the bucket out into the garden. We threw our trash out beyond the gooseberry bushes, right there where I had buried the she-rabbit. When I got close I froze — in that very spot there was a gaping hole. Somebody had dug up the she-rabbit. Why? In anger I dumped the trash into the hole and upon returning to the house shouted:
“It’s all clear to me!”
“What’s clear to you?” Khrystia calmly asked.
“That the mafia’s at work here!”
“What are you driveling about?”
“You all conspired! Come on, confess! You want to play me for a fool?”
“I don’t understand you.”
“What’s not to understand here? It concerns the rabbits. I don’t know what impulse you’re following, but the joke has dragged on too long.”
“Explain something... I don’t understand anything.”
“If you weren’t my wife I’d send you off to the Filmmaking Institute. You’re a great actress. But you’ve gone after the wrong guy! You’ve gone overboard with the hole business.”
“With which hole?” “With the grave of the venerable she-rabbit! There’s a hole there now. And the she-rabbit’s disappeared. Your conscience bothering you that the meat is going to waste?”
“There’s a hole there?”
“A hole, a hole! But I’ve figured you out! It’s you who so lovingly dug out the grave and pulled out my lawful trophy. And now it’s being cooked at Kalenyk’s for sure. And tomorrow you’ll drag me out, so to speak, for roasted rabbit. Let’s go to Kalenyk’s. Right away without wasting time.”
“Let’s go. So that you can be assured of your stupidity. I swear there wasn’t any conspiracy.”
“You also swore that you’d never throw raw onions into the soup. And what happened? Did you ever even begin to sauté them?”
“What’ve onions got to do with this?”
“But you swore!”
“I promised, but when I’m in a hurry...”
“You’re eternally in a hurry. If you had covered up the hole—who knows, maybe, everything wouldn’t have turned out this way.”
7
Kalenyk listened sullenly. After I related my hunting adventures, he told me:
“I’m afraid that this won’t end here. I warned you that there aren’t any jokes being played here. Nobody’s planning to play any tricks on you, and for what reason? A joke’s a joke until it’s gone on too long.”
“I can’t accept these superstitions. That’s why I’m looking for a more realistic explanation.”
“But you yourself just related what happened to you during the hunt.”
“All these tales put the fear into me, that’s why I saw everything in that light. I was too excited. The wounded she-rabbit certainly just couldn’t escape. What was left for her to do? Just to look at me... And couldn’t my nocturnal tracker have been a creation of my imagination? That’s why I’m inclined to think that the rest is all just somebody’s joke.”
“Well, of course, it’s much simpler this way. If this is just a joke, then it didn’t begin with you. Oksenych broke his arm, Matsiy his leg, Tymkevych got burned, and Prokip was blinded in one eye. All of them in one way or another bothered the rabbits.”
“Listen, why do you tie all this in with the rabbits? Maybe a rabbit threw itself at Matsiy’s leg, and he fell not so much from the blow as from surprise and broke his leg. Prokip became blind! He was over 80 years old. That’s why he shied away from an operation. In the end, we’re talkin’ about maybe an ordinary cataract.”
“No, it wasn’t a cataract.”
“But to accept a story that these rabbits are some kind of supernatural ones is just ridiculous! And then—what do rabbits have to do with it? A person followed me, if I didn’t just imagine it. Under the window there also was a person. And it wasn’t rabbits that dug out the she-rabbit from the hole. You can see the marks of a shovel there.”
8
My wife went to sleep with the little one, and I stood in the kitchen next to the window and gazed into the darkness that hid all the secrets of the day in it, like a treasure chest snapped tightly shut, the key to which is lost, nobody knows when or by whom. I couldn’t calm myself down, I was drawn to Kryva Dolyna. It seemed that I had forgotten something important there, something I wasn’t conscious of before, but it was there, sitting inside me from my childhood, eating away at my soul. Casting away all hesitation, I put on my jacket, slid one eye over the rifle and decided that I wouldn’t take it with me, but on the other hand, perhaps, not expecting much of my own boldness, stuffed a cleaving knife in my belt.
The night met me with a chilly breeze and dampness. When I found myself in total darkness, just like yesterday I sensed someone’s footst
eps, but now they were echoing in front of me. It was as though we had exchanged roles, and it was me who was a tracker, with the only difference that I couldn’t figure out whom I was tracking.
The road was loose and soft. I complained that I didn’t remember to put on my boots, and soon felt mud on my socks, but I didn’t want to go back. At that moment I struck the rhythm of footsteps of whoever was walking ahead, and for God knows what reason, tried not to break the rhythm, as though the success of my wandering depended on this.
The barking of dogs echoed to me from the farms, it rolled across the moon somewhere onto the meadows and, weakened, fell onto the moist grass. But it was not enough for me. So the silence would stop grating my ears, I began to whistle a stupid song to myself, it encouraged me and revived my hankering for adventure, and the cleaver was an irreplaceable comrade for me in all of this. The footsteps in front of me no longer frightened me; I tried to step more loudly, so that my steps would re-echo the same way, but it didn’t work. The footsteps belonged to a much heavier person, I judged his athletic build and, maybe, wouldn’t be able to compete with him, so I walked in step without paying any attention to the exasperations of the muddy road, just as if it were me and not the first guy who had stirred its drowsiness and disturbed its oily black placidity. The road snaked and snaked, and the hills with bristling branches of bushes quickly rose, hiding the greatest part of the starless sky from me.
The impenetrable darkness that gaped ahead, like the wide open maws of a hungry beast, announced the approach of Kryva Dolyna. Here I recalled another method for increasing courage, and I lit up a cigarette. Now my nocturnal sortie, at least formally, didn’t differ from a regular walk before sleep. I even stopped being carefully vigilant about the darkness, which had so invitingly opened up before me. I stopped sensing its derision, its malevolence, and started to think about the surprises that it, perhaps, was preparing for me.
I descended into the valley and it seemed as if I was descending into myself along a thin cable that stretched from my eyes to the depths of my body, into its darkest recesses and disquiet, not knowing anything about the length, or about when my hands themselves will sense the emptiness, and I—am a rapid drop to the bottom of consciousness.
Stones cracked and crumbled beneath my feet. Somehow unnoticeably in the sticky silence the footsteps of the guy ahead of me opened up.
There was no reason to go further, somewhere here, from this spot the whole valley could be seen as though on the palm of your hand.
My cigarette burned my fingers, I flicked it and the hot yellow fire flew below in an arc. Then I pulled out my cleaver, and my entire soul transferred into my right hand that powerfully pressed its handle.
It was useless to gaze into this despairing blackness, you can’t catch anything in it besides your own helplessness, but I waited patiently. That glow remained the only proof I lacked in believing Kalenyk’s nonsense. I knew quite well that a tree stump could shine at night, but there wasn’t a single stump in the valley. That glow had to be extraordinary, or else I wouldn’t believe in it. And though I didn’t feel like smoking, I lit up again, setting my legs widely apart, as though preparing myself for battle.
Dampness oozed from the valley and made its way beneath my clothing, the mud stuck to my socks and already had begun to irritate me, but I stubbornly surveyed this mysterious place that hypnotizes as though it’s trying to draw you into itself, into that unknown emptiness that calls and straightens up its forgotten wings above its head.
I decided—I’ll finish smoking the cigarette and go. A frightening chill slid along my neck. I spent myself and yielded, I had enough courage just to get here, because here I already had begun to sense the indefensibility of my back and sides. The longing wish to look back appeared against my will and didn’t let go. An endless number of footsteps that will radiate to the epicenter of my brain from all sides, were sensed all at once, and neither the cigarette nor the cleaver helped any longer, I suddenly became divided into two enemy camps—my legs strove to rush off and it was just my arms that didn’t fail to lose a sense of balance and were ready to defend me.
The accursed silence, capable of driving you crazy, tears apart my chest, displaces everything in places that in its opinion is not laid out right, pulls me out from the inside and chases me home, dispersing herds of ants along a burning spine. I’ll finish my smoke and go. I firmly decided, and the foresight of a quick end to my stupid wandering gave me strength. Slowly I calm down, very slowly. I’ll take to my heels right away like a scared rabbit, and I’ll run along the road without looking back.
The flashing began.
9
The flashing happened suddenly. The valley glimmered like a mirror aimed at the sun, but in a moment it grew dark again, only there in the depths where an illuminated dome still glowed, which really reminds you of a Cossack hut by its shape.
Here a mysterious murmuring and bustling could be heard, an endless number of muffled voices tore into my field of hearing. They all walked into the illuminated dome alone, and it blazed in solitude and splendidly, and most strangely—without illuminating the space around it, although its bright glow should have snatched a tangible area out of darkness. The entire valley came alive and bustled. I didn’t see anything but distinctly heard life stirring. Even the ferns and stones beneath my feet were stirring and began to rattle excitedly. It seemed that a green wave of sprigs would knock me from my feet. Bushes swayed and surrounded from all sides with their stirring.
High above in the sky a star flashed, its light pulsed not any slower than the beating of my heart. And here I noticed that the lit-up dome pulsed to the same rhythm. It was as though the star and the dome were calling to each other, and that this conversation was peaceful, and it seemed, not devoid of content. In an instant I collected myself. My whole body tensed up and appeared to be clearly outlined—and not like the cogs of a mechanism. The fear disappeared that took nest in my soul, the vision of uncertainty disappeared. I myself pulsed, glowed and called back and forth to the star.
This is that long awaited opportunity to uncover a mystery. I carefully began to lower myself into the direction of the enigmatic glow, without releasing the cleaver from my grip. The closer I came to it, the more frenetic the noise surrounding it became. It seemed that a whirlwind was raging, the ferns from underfoot were seething like a turbulent sea, and I nearly was knocked off my feet. It was difficult to walk, my feet slipped on the moss-covered stones time after time. They stumbled, and the bushes foamed like a white blossom, jerked toward me, and grew to gigantic proportions before my eyes. The pulsing of the light of the star and dome became more intense and resembled alternating rapid gunfire. Suddenly my left foot slipped on a stone. I couldn’t hold myself and got entangled in a bush with the cleaver falling from my hands. I managed to grasp it, but...but it had gotten noticeably heavier! I straightened up on my legs, the cleaver grew heavier and heavier, I could no longer hold it with one hand and took it with both. The weight increased so quickly, that the cleaver simply bent me over to the ground, so in order not to overstrain myself, I let it fall. It banged with a force that could be compared to the blow of a falling clod of earth.
My spirit suddenly sank without that weapon. But I was still drawn down to the valley because I would hardly be bold enough for another nocturnal trip. It was better to find a solution right now.
It was a lot easier to walk without following after the lights, but looking underfoot,. About five minutes passed until I lifted up my head. By that time I should have ended up in the center of the valley, but instead didn’t even get a meter closer. The glow was the same distance away from the place where I had fallen. I remembered Kalenyk’s account—it’s true that the glow doesn’t allow you to approach it. And what if you throw a rock at it? This idea obviously was stupid and had its deep traditions—everything you can’t comprehend with your reason elicits the wish simply to destroy it. So I grabbed a rock, but just as it was ripped from the groun
d, it began to get heavier and heavier until I got rid of it cursing.
Now I had completely lost the rest of my courage—I turned and ran away, and it was so easy for me to escape that I had no time to be surprised by it. Even though there was good reason—because I was running uphill.
10
On Tuesday a new adventure happened. Just as I got home, my wife asked:
“Have you seen Andriyko?” “Where?”
“What do you mean where? He was playing near the gate.”
“I didn’t see him.”
Khrystia stepped out of the house and returned in a few minutes.
“Listen, he’s not anywhere. Where’d he disappear to?”
Now we both began to search for the little guy, but when we had checked out all the nooks, my wife ran to all the neighbors, and I started off along the road. And only when I got down to Kryva Dolyna did I see him behind a clump of stones. Andriyko was peacefully sitting there playing with colored rocks.
“What are you doing here?”
“Playing.”
“We set off for home quickly. Mommy’s crying for you, and you’re such a bad boy...”
I grabbed him by the arms, but he began to heave to and fro and scream:
“How about the rocks? Take the rocks!”
So we had to take them too. With the little guy in my arms I hurried back as fast as possible.
“How can you be so bad? How could you go there alone? Your mother’ll let you have it now!”
The little guy laughed and was pleased by something unknown.
Khrystia ran out to meet us, wiping away her tears on the way.
“I’m gonna give it to you now!...” She ordered, and I quieted her down, because when it comes to the ritual of punishment, you won’t get a word out of the little guy.
The Fantastic Worlds of Yuri Vynnychuk Page 9
